Stalker (9780307823557) by Joan Lowery Nixon

Author:Joan Lowery Nixon [Nixon, Joan Lowery]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780307823557
Publisher: Random House Digital
Published: 2013-09-24T21:00:00+00:00

The funeral home was designed like a colonial plantation, and the small room to which Jennifer and Mark were directed was decorated with small Corinthian columns and a brightly hued stained-glass window that splashed garish colors across Estelle Trax’s closed coffin. A small spray of flowers lay limply across the top of the coffin, and a wreath of tired purple chrysanthemums rested on a stand at one side.

As she stumbled into the back pew, pulling Mark with her, Jennifer noticed that they were the only young people in the room. Mrs. Aciddo sat near the front of the room. Her head tucked into her shoulders reminded Jennifer of a turtle peering out from the safety of its shell. Two women with bleached, teased, out-of-date hairstyles huddled together in a middle pew. One of them cleared her throat nervously and shot glances around the room as though hoping for a quick rescue.

Bobbie wasn’t there.

“They’ll let her come, won’t they?” she whispered to Mark.

He shrugged, his broad shoulders straining the sports coat he rarely wore and had outgrown. He made a face and tugged at his collar and tie. “She’s not a kid. She’s eighteen. They’d treat her like any other adult.”

“But this is her mother!”

One of the blondes’ flickering glances shot at Jennifer. She glared at the woman and lowered her voice. “It’s not fair.”

“You keep saying that. It doesn’t change things.”

A middle-aged, neatly dressed couple strolled in and sat near the back. At the same time a slender man dressed in a business suit entered the room at a side door and fiddled with the microphone on the podium next to the coffin, snapping it with his fingernail a couple of times to test it.

Appearing satisfied, he gripped the edges of the podium and turned to the small congregation. The expression on his face slid into one of sympathy and compassion. “Dear friends of the deceased,” he began, but stopped, his mouth slightly open, as Elton Krambo strode into the room.

There was no mistaking that Elton and Darryl were brothers. They scowled at the world from eyes that were dark and shielded by secrets. Elton was taller and huskier than Darryl, but their narrow features and unruly black hair were almost identical.

Slowly, Elton walked down the aisle. He seemed to pause for a moment as he stared at Jennifer, and she shivered. He studied the others in the room, then took a seat in the front pew, motioning with a quick thrust of his hand for the minister to continue.

The man cleared his throat, then stammered quickly into a smooth recitation he must have given over and over again. “We—uh—come to pay our last respects to a dear mother—”

He nodded at Elton, who sat with arms tightly folded. Jennifer muttered, “She’s not his mother,” and Mark poked her into silence.

“—and good friend.” On the minister went, but Jennifer tuned him out. Bobbie should be here. She had to talk to Bobbie. Maybe Lucas could work things out so that she could visit Bobbie in jail.

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