Deadly Desires by Ann Christopher

Author:Ann Christopher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2011-08-30T04:00:00+00:00

Lorraine Brady fidgeted in her wheelchair, fighting a yawn and wishing she had her blanket.

They were in that one big room (the fun room, they called it—or was it the activities room?), all their wheelchairs lined up at the long table for now, but soon, she knew, they’d turn them all around to face the big screen, and they’d watch a movie. A good movie, too, an old black and white with the actor she loved so much. What was his name? Not Spencer Tracy. Not Clark Gable. Well, it would come to her later. This was the movie with the plane at the end, and the Swedish girl with the accent. Oh, what was her name? She couldn’t remember much of anything these days, which was why she was here, living with a bunch of old farts who drooled and said the same damn thing over and over again because they’d all lost their minds.

“Excuse me,” she said to the nearest woman in uniform. She smiled, too, because it was important to be polite, even when you were an old fart saddled with a wheelchair and a fading mind. The employees worked hard around here, and they deserved nice manners even if they keep it too cold. “Can I have my blanket, please?”

The woman turned. She’d been wiping the gaping mouth of the woman in the wheelchair next to Lorraine’s—yeah, they always drooled around here—but now she paused and smiled. Oh, dear. Her face was so familiar. Had they met before? Should she know her name? Why couldn’t she remember any names these days?

“Cold again, Lorraine?” Oh, no. They had met before, and Lorraine would be embarrassed in a minute when it became obvious she had no earthly clue who this woman was.

“Honey, I haven’t been warm since the sixties. Now how about that blanket?”

The woman laughed. “Give me a minute, Lorraine. I need to get Ethel here cleaned up first.”

Lorraine frowned and shifted in her chair, wishing the damn thing was more comfortable, but of course when you sat on your bee-hind all day, any chair was bound to make you stiff.

She looked around the crowded room, bored. Now what? And when would they start the ... the ... what was the activity tonight? There was an activity tonight, wasn’t there? She hoped it wasn’t show tunes with Betty again because Betty, frankly, couldn’t play the piano to save her life. Bingo would be better, and she wouldn’t mind watching a movie, either—

“Is that you, Cousin Lorraine?”

Startled, she glanced up, adjusted her bifocals, and discovered a man standing there. A good-looking young fellow he was, too, with smooth brown skin (she did like nice skin), sleek black hair, and a goatee that gave him a devilish glint. Oh, this one was a rascal, all right. And look at that smile! Dimpled and charming, as though he knew she didn’t get many visitors and certainly never had any handsome young men looking for her. Except for Dexter, of course, but he didn’t count because he was her son.

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