The Perfect Neighborhood (The Secrets of Suburbia Book 3) by Jo Crow

Author:Jo Crow [Crow, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-02-28T22:00:00+00:00

23

Clare’s hair had a light red tint, strawberry blonde, long and drawn up into a high ponytail that bobbed behind her as she ran. Arms pumping, legs stretching out as she ran, her mouth open and hands closed into fists.

Fast.

Clare was fast.

She’d passed the other girls racing on the track, neared the closest hurdle and cleared it without hesitation. Her feet made a crunching sound over the race surface.

It was late summer, the time when school started and students tried out for the various teams. My Clare had decided to pursue track.

She was beautiful running, graceful, stunning, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks rosy from the exertion. I heard the feet pounding behind her. No one was ahead; she led the pack by ten meters.

And she gained even more distance on them as she eclipsed the curve and headed for the finish line.

She wore red and white, her tank had a dog’s head on it. She wasn’t running for a high school team, it was college. The colors and the logo indicating she was at Northern Illinois University, the home of the Huskies. Clare was majoring in law, wanting to be an attorney like her father. She hoped to join his law firm: Skyler, Brown, & Weldon, had clerked for them over the summer.

I watched her bring her knees up higher, cheeks puffing out, arms swinging faster, ponytail a blur. A horn sounded when she sped past the finish line, the crowd cheered, and she kept on going, past the track and onto a city street. A car chased her, a dark blue sedan, like the one I’d seen outside the house we used to live in.

Clare darted onto the sidewalk and around trees as the sedan caught up.

“Faster!” I hollered. “Baby, baby, run faster!”

Someone leaned out the car window, had a gun, started firing at her.

Bang! Bang! The crash of glass followed as a bullet must have struck someone’s window. Bang! Crash! An alarm sounded.

“Run!” I hollered.

Then I sat up in a rush, my head pounding, throat dry.

It had been a dream … nightmare.

Clare wailed. No Mike in bed next to me, but that didn’t surprise me. He’d left a note about spending the night in his office.

“I’m coming, baby.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and fumbled with my feet, finding my slippers and edging into them as I tapped the light on the nightstand. The clock read 3 a.m.

I didn’t bother with my robe, hurrying to the cradle and picking Clare up, figuring she was either hungry or wet. Both, I decided. I walked her into the nursery and put her on the changing table.

“Hey, Clare-Bear, I dreamed you were a track star. Nobody could catch you, so fast. You flew, baby girl. I don’t agree with your choice of study, law—that was part of the nightmare. But you’re free to be whatever you want.” Such an odd dream. But Clare had been beautiful in it.

I changed her, fed her, rocked her. She

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