What happens when you find out your friends aren't who they say they are.
Monday started out like any other day. It was October, and autumn was in full swing. The leaves were going through their annual change, bright reds and oranges littered the barren tree branches, and piled up in unruly bunches around their trunks. There was a cool crispness in the air that wasn't hot, but not cold either. It was, Gloria reasoned, just right. She could've drove to work, and blocked all this natural beauty out through the steel and glass of her car, but since she lived so close to the hospital, she reasoned that riding a bike was perfectly understandable. Besides, she had to set the example for her friend Greg if she truly wanted to help him maintain his weight loss goals.
As if appearing on cue as Gloria rounded the corner, Greg's green Ford SUV was just turning into the parking lot, their tiny concession from the hospital. Greg and Gloria both were officially under their own roof, but due to insurance, and hospital regulations, they had to work inside the hospital, technically within the milieu of the hospital administrator, who Gloria didn't get along with.
As Gloria rounded the final corner, she pulled even with Greg, who was leaning against his Ford, holding a white paper bag, and two cups of coffee. She dismounted, pecked Greg on the cheek and eyed the bag.
'Relax Little G, they're bagels.' Greg said in his deep baritone voice.
'And the coffee?' Gloria questioned, arching an eyebrow.
'Oh c'mon! Cut me some slack! Besides, you can't bitch because I brought you a cup.' With a mischievous grin, he offered one of the coffees.
'This counts toward your calorie intake for the day.' Gloria said taking the coffee.
'You are seriously busting my balls here. Between you and the ex, I'm barely a man anymore.' Greg complained in his good natured way.
'Well big man, if we're going to get you a girlfriend, we need you sexy.' Gloria teased, patting her best friend on his big stomach. Greg rolled his eyes, and followed 'Little G' inside.
Greg was six foot tall, and almost a hundred and twenty pounds overweight. His own doctor warned that a man pushing fifty, in a stressful career like Greg's, a hundred and twenty overweight was a matter of when, not if he was going to have a heart attack. Under a lot of protesting, and procrastinating, Gloria was able to help Greg find a diet plan that he was agreeable to. So far in the two weeks that he'd been on it, Greg had lost twenty pounds.
As Gloria and Greg entered the cool lobby of their small office, Allen their lab tech came from behind the counter. Wordlessly, Allen grabbed Gloria by the arm, gently guiding her into an empty consultation room.
'What's up?' She asked Allen, who looked pale.
'It's Capital G, doc.' He said biting his thumbnail absently. Making eye contact with Gloria, his eyes were downcast.
'What Allen? What is it? You're scaring me!' Gloria prompted eagerly.
'His blood work came back today, doc.'
'...and? Jesus Allen, what is it with you today? Stop making me guess; let me have the bad news already.'
'It's cancer Gloria.' Allen said finally meeting her eyes. His chocolate brown irises swam with uncertainty.
'Well, first of all calm down, we don't want Greg to see us in a panic, second of all Allen, it'll be okay, we'll explore options, and hopefully get this taken care of quickly.' She started for the door, but let her hand fall away from the knob. 'Hey, I know you lost your dad to prostate cancer, but let me promise you something, we caught this early enough; he'll be alright.' Gloria said, her deep blue eyes holding Allen. Uncharacteristically, Allen grabbed Gloria in a tight hug, his nervousness thrumming like a struck guitar chord. Without another word, he pushed past Gloria, who leaned against the door.
After a few moments, someone gently rapped on the other side of the door. Looking down at her cheap Casio watch, Gloria realized that she'd been hiding for over five minutes. Standing up, she cracked the door, unhappily seeing that it was Greg on the other side. He wore his usual smile, and his genial nature swam to the surface in that easy expression. Gloria dreaded the nuclear bomb she was about to drop on him, but she was right, Greg would be alright, he had to be. He was the rock in which she crashed against after her fiancé Todd, killed himself.
'Greg, come in.' Gloria said, opening the door wider.
'What's up Little G? We getting any work done today?' Greg asked easing into the room.
'You're blood work came back.' Gloria said without preamble. 'It was positive.'
'Oh shit, that sucks.' Greg said, falling onto a nearby chair. His face didn't stay down long, he beamed his brightest smile at Gloria. 'Hey, relax, I'll be alright. I swear you and Allen are like a couple of worry warts.'
Gloria thought about it a second, and realized that he was right; she was probably worrying about nothing. She resolved to be there for her best friend no matter what, and patted him on the shoulder.
'I'm sorry Capital G; it's just that you're all I've had since...'
'Hey, relax, mama, I ain't going nowhere, I've got far too much hell to raise yet.' Greg answered, patting Gloria's hand. 'Come on; let's get some work done.' He paused at the door. 'Guess I'll have to kick Allen in his keister, because I know he'll be like a kicked dog until I can put him to rest. I swear we're less like a bunch of co-workers around here.'
Gloria stood at the door, watching the big man enter the small lobby, taking his chunk of happiness with him. She felt herself believing him when he told her that everything would be alright.
Two months later, as she thumbed through a three month old copy of People aimlessly for the third time, Gloria tried holding onto that thought- Greg would be alright. This was only a small procedure, nothing to worry about. It was only the first bout of chemo. Her stomach churned sourly, and she remembered that she hadn't eaten breakfast yet. The thought of food made her nauseous. All Gloria wanted, was to see Greg come through that door, beaming his thousand watt smile. Frustrated, she tossed the magazine back onto the overflowing heap. She debated grabbing a copy of Time, but as she reached for it, a dark, exotic looking nurse came through the swinging door, looking around the lobby, her eyes found Gloria, and she zeroed in on her.
'Doctor,' the nurse began, her accent matching her looks. 'I know we said that Doctor Allgood would be able to go home today, but there's been a complication, and we're going to have to admit him overnight.' She caught the naked fear on Gloria's face, and raised a reassuring hand. 'No, no, no, please forgive, I did not mean to frighten, Doctor Allgood is okay.' She cleared her throat, smiled gently, and continued. 'It's just that his doctor recommended the overnight stay. His weight and the fact that he was having slight respiratory problems were enough for his doctor to recommend an overnight stay. He'll be okay, promise.'
When her phone rang at two in the morning, Gloria knew. And when she answered it, her world hit the pause button for the second time in her adult life.
His funeral was on a Sunday, it was raining outside, like the world felt the small gatherings pain. Gloria stood over her best friend, tears streaming down her cheeks. Greg lay in repose, wearing the outfit that Gloria had carefully picked out for him. The pale yellow polo he wore seemed overly cheerful in the dreary atmosphere. Looking around, she was surprised that his ex wife, Lydia wasn't in the audience. However, what little Greg talked about his past marriage, indicated that the split hadn't been amicable. Wiping her eyes, Gloria took her seat, and the rest of the funeral passed in a teary blur.
Leaving the small chapel, clutching the tear soaked Kleenex; Gloria didn't see the two cops standing there until they peeled themselves away from the churches facade and called her name.
'Gloria Stinson?' One of the cops asked. He was a tall, reed thin black man, and he wore a pale blue tie. His blue suit was so dark, that it seemed black under the overcast sky. The rain, Gloria belatedly realized, had lessened, but it still drizzled, and there was a heavy chill in the air.
'Yes, that's me.' Gloria answered, taking in the cop. His partner, a short, stocky white man, stepped up beside him. His off-white suit and green tie stood out against his thick neck, and dark tan skin.
'Ma'am, I know this isn't the time, or place, but we need you to answer a few questions, if you please.' The white cop asked, looking to his partner.
'Time or place is quite the understatement, officer...' Gloria answered, not caring about the irritation that rose in her voice.
'Detective Brown, this is my partner, Detective Brown.' The black cop answered. 'We're with homicide, and as unfortunate as this is, we need to ask you a few questions.'
'Couldn't it wait until at least Greg is in the ground? This is a bit gruesome, if you don't mind me saying.' Gloria countered, her irritation quickly turning to anger.
'Ms. Stinson, we understand that you're upset, but we really need to talk. We could do it here, or we could take a ride down to the station... your call.' The white detective Brown answered flatly.
Gloria stared at both cops angrily, her pain smoldering behind the anger she felt at this faux pas. She held her hands out in front of her, indicating that she'd follow the detectives. They led her to a nearby Crown Victoria, its black hide glistening with rain drops. The black Brown slid into the driver's seat.
'I know we caught you at a bad time,' the white Brown said as he eased his door shut. 'But that's kind of the point you see.'
'Yeah, how's that?' Gloria asked.
'Well because Doctor Allgood didn't have a heart attack.' Black Brown answered.
'Say what?' Gloria asked, her mouth feeling suddenly numb.
'Exactly! Ms. Stinson.' White Brown said, leveling his finger at her.
'See, what Ed is trying to say,' Black Brown said, indicating his partner, 'is that Doctor Allgood was murdered.'
'Murdered...' Gloria mouthed, the numbness spreading to her tongue. It felt like the words would merely spill out of her idiot mouth. Gloria managed to shut her jaw with some effort. The words she was hearing made sense, but they didn't mesh with what she'd come to accept.
'Yes, murdered.' Black Brown said with finality. 'You see, during the autopsy, the coroner found something unusual.'
'He found an injection site.' Ed said finishing his partners thought. 'See, what was odd about it, is that even though Greg was on an IV, why would anyone inject him in his other arm? What would be the point of that? Forgive me, I'm just a layman, but that seems a bit out of whack. I mean, I'm only going off what I've seen on TV, but if someone in the hospital were going to inject something, wouldn't they use the IV feed?'
'Which got us to thinking,' Black Brown said, easing back into the conversation. 'Either the person that did this is an idiot, incompetent, or...'
'They wanted to get caught.' Ed said minutely nodding his head.
'So... what's any of this got to do with me?' Gloria asked, trying to absorb everything she was hearing. 'If you think I had anything to do with it...'
'No, if we thought you had anything to do with it, you'd be wearing bracelets by now.' Ed said readjusting his seating position, so he faced Gloria better. 'However, I, and my buddy, Carl here, are curious. Who has a grudge against Greg? Why would a doctor, who seems to be so revered in the medical community, be murdered so callously? I mean, this just smacks of personal, like whoever did it, had a grudge that had to be met.' He tapped the seatback with his hand, and eyed Gloria. 'You don't know anyone that would fit that description, do you?' He asked, his question feeling weighted, like he expected Gloria to throw her hands in the air and confess. Instead, Gloria held his gaze, her anger, fear, and pain all smoking heavily in her mind. She was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Greg was murdered.
'Detective,' she began carefully, 'I can assure you that I do not know anything.'
'What about his ex wife?' Carl asked suddenly.
'What about her? Greg rarely spoke about her, and when he did it wasn't anything personal. I've never met the lady, and as far as I know, she lives somewhere in Montana.'
'Montana, huh?' Ed asked quietly, digesting the tidbit. 'Okay, thank you Gloria, sorry for your loss.' He said suddenly, turning around. 'You're free to leave now.' He finished, looking at her in the rear view mirror.
Numbly, Gloria eased out of the cruiser, her thoughts swimming with everything she'd just learned. The door had barely shut behind her when the car began to pull away. She had to leap sideways to avoid the splash its rear tires caused as it bounced through a puddle. Gloria began to make her way to her car, when the brake lights flashed, and the white backup lights lit up. Once again dodging the puddle, Gloria stared into the muddy eyes of Detective Ed Brown as he rolled down his window.
'Doc, get in, we've got a suspect, and they want to talk to you specifically. They said we won't make the case without you.' He hitched his thumb backwards indicating the rear door.
Gloria opened the door, and eased back into the car. What began as a simple funeral for a dear friend, had ran off the rails at Mach speed in a hurry, and she barely had time to accept and digest that her best friend was now being lowered into the ground, before learning that he had in fact been murdered. Now she was on the way to the police station to speak with the person who may or may not have killed him. The numbness she'd felt earlier in her mouth was back, only this time it was in her chest, and it emanated outward with each beat of her heart. Gloria wiped her sweaty palms on her black dress, and tried to understand everything.
The woman was tiny. She wore her age heavily on her face, her eyes baggy, the frown lines cut deep into her mouth and forehead. Her blonde hair was dull, and streaked through with gray. The heavy lights of the interview room did little to accentuate any remaining beauty she had. But, Gloria reasoned, she once was beautiful, something in this life sucked it out of her like a vampire. She stared blankly at a spot on the table in front of her. Her body language was resigned, her movements, what little there was, indicated that she'd come to terms with what was going on.
'Who is that?' Gloria asked Carl as they stood behind the two way mirror.
'That is Lydia Beckett, Mr. Allgood's ex-wife.' Carl answered, putting his hands on his hips. 'Okay, we're going to let you go in there, but Ed is going to be with you. If she cops to anything, we want it to be in the presence of an officer, so it'll be difficult to recant in court.'
Gloria nodded, not caring about protocol. She was curious what this slip of a woman wanted.
Lydia didn't look up from the table when Ed entered and sat down to her right, she didn't look up when Gloria sat down across from her. She merely shuffled in her chair when Detective Brown pushed the small red record button on the tape recorder.
'Ms. Beckett, I must inform you that everything you are saying is being recorded both by audio and video means. You are under no obligation to make a statement of any kind.' With that, he sat back in his chair, planting his hands wide on the table. The silence enveloped the small room again. Gloria cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably in her chair after a few more minutes of silence.
'He was a monster.' Lydia said lowly, her voice clear and dulcet. She finally looked up, and Gloria found herself looking into eyes as blue as her own. There was clarity in the eyes, but something else, something dark swam just behind them. It was etched into this woman's every crease and wrinkle.
'I beg your pardon?' Gloria asked, unsure if she heard correctly.
'You heard me.' Lydia answered, her tone combative, but somehow neutral. 'Greg was a monster.' She licked her lips, and reached over and grabbed an enormous purse. Rooting around in it, she came up with a cheap plastic photo album, the kind they gave away free when you had your film developed. Wordlessly, Lydia tossed the album onto the metal table. 'The man you know, go ahead, take a look.' Lydia said, lowering her hands.
Gloria flipped through the album, and saw a family that was smiles and laughter. A young girl that split the difference between Lydia and Greg was in almost all the pictures. There were barbeques, picnics, and other family photos. It was an ideal picturesque family album. Greg was noticeably slimmer in his younger days, but the ghost of a paunch was visible.
'That's Claudette.' Lydia said, leaning forward, tapping the beaming image of the girl. 'Greg doted over her, she was his world. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her.' A mirthless chuckle escaped her, and to Gloria, it sounded like the laughter of madness. 'You see, this is the image he cultivated for sixteen years. A happy perfect American family; mom and dad part of the PTA, daughter a cheerleader, and head of her class.' Another chuckle escaped her, and she tapped a picture of the family standing arm and arm in front of the iconic Disney castle. 'It was all bullshit.'
'What do you mean?' Gloria asked, fearing the answer.
Lydia looked up at Gloria from under her heavy lids. That humorless chuckle escaped her once again, and she pushed the sleeve of her gray sweatshirt back. The inside of her arm was wracked with white, circular scars.
'When I was bad, this was my punishment.' She gently traced a scar near her wrist, and looked at Gloria again. 'He used to smoke cigars. He felt like a man's man when he did. It was all machismo bullshit. He only smoked cigars because he liked to use me as an ashtray. Claudette never knew the truth, or at least she pretended not to know. She slapped me when I asked if her father had been after her. This was when she was nineteen; it was the last time we spoke, years after I left Greg. She's never forgiven me for that.' She pushed her sleeve back down, moved her bangs from in front of her eyes. 'She even called me a liar when I told her the truth.'
'What truth?' Gloria asked, feeling less a part of the conversation, and more like a set piece on a bad drama.
'What other truth was there, but the truth about her brother, Edgar?' Lydia answered, fishing another photo album out, and setting it beside the other. With one finger, she pushed it towards Gloria.
As she flipped through the album, Gloria began to feel sick. The first picture showed a small, dark padded room with an earthen floor. There were metal loops welded into the ceiling at various intervals. Other pictures showed long, thick chains with manacles welded to them. Finally, Gloria saw Edgar. He was dark haired, dark eyed, and utterly mad. He was slat thin, the ribs clearly visible on his naked torso; he was clad only in a pair of dingy white underwear. His wrists were clamped together above his head; tendrils of blood ran down his arms.
Gloria slammed the album shut, and shoved it rudely toward detective Brown, who wordlessly began flipping through it. Silently, he closed it and left it alone, as if it were tainted.
'Why show me this? What does any of this have to do with Greg?' She asked, feeling the haunted, mad stare of Edgar burning through her.
'Everything, Gloria, everything,' She gnawed on an already short fingernail, and stared at Gloria a moment. 'You see, there was one thing Greg was good at, and that was pretending.' He pretended to love me for sixteen years; he pretended to love me when we thought we... I was barren, he pretended to love me when I finally got pregnant with Claudette, and he mostly pretended to be a human being. Would a human do those things to their own son?' She asked barely acknowledging the album.
'Yeah, but if he was so monstrous, if everything he did was so bad, why not go to the cops? Why wait around?' Gloria asked, her curiosity overcoming the sickness she felt.
'Greg used to carry around a gun. Some nights, he'd come home from the hospital at random times, never letting me get a sense of a pattern. He'd show up sometimes as late as three in the morning and stand at the foot of the bed, just watching me. Finally, he'd ease up to me, careful not to wake me. He'd put his hand over my mouth so I couldn't scream, and then he'd pull the hammer back, and laugh.' Lydia shuddered at the memory. 'He'd ask me if I knew what a mess a .45 caliber bullet would make, if I knew how many bullets it would take to kill his daughter and that tainted thing, he'd ask me if going to the cops, if leaving him was worth it.' She laughed her humorless laugh again, and looked at Gloria. 'One night, I don't know why, but one night he does this, and I said, go ahead you bastard, pull the trigger, I dare you. You don't have the fucking balls to do it.' She gently stroked an almost invisible scar that ran the length of an eyebrow. 'I guess, looking back, it wasn't the smartest thing to do. He beat me with the gun, he then pushed the barrel into my vagina, leaned over me real close, his breath stinking of alcohol, and said to me: "Bitch one shot and you'll die in agony." 'I never questioned him after that, and I wasn't able to get out of bed for two days either.'
'What was so wrong with Edgar that he was...?' Gloria asked, unable to finish the thought.
'Manacled and starved in a dungeon?' Lydia asked, the combative edge creeping back into her voice. 'Nothing, he was born a little slow, that's it. He's not retarded, but words never came to him quickly, would stand around sometimes trying to remember why he was there, and what he was doing. Edgar is the sweetest boy.'
'But...' Gloria prompted after the silence lingered.
'There was no way that bastard came from my loins.' Lydia said, in an eerie copy of Greg. She laughed, and toyed with the happy album. 'No, nothing was his fault, he was the perfect narcissist. I truly never met a man more in love with himself. Claudette was perfect. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and the straightest, whitest teeth you ever saw. She's just as mad as her father ever was. When she was ten, I caught her torturing a neighbor's puppy. After spanking her, I asked her why she did it. She looked at me, and there was nothing there. There was no remorse, no guilt, nothing. She honestly felt nothing, and her answer.' Lydia shuddered again. 'She didn't have one; she honestly didn't know why she was doing it, other than it felt good to do.'
'One day, I was folding laundry, watching QVC, and a thought occurred to me. I figured if I had to endure Greg any longer, I'd go crazy, if I had to sit idly by while his own son was locked away in the backyard in a soundproof dungeon, I'd just go over the edge. I wanted dearly to go and get Edgar, and let him have reign of the house, but I knew that Claudette would tell on me if I did. I did manage to sneak him food from time. Greg allowed it, said everybody's got to have a hobby. So as I'm watching this advertisement for some never dull kitchen knives, a thought occurs to me. We've got kitchen knives, we've got a six hundred dollar set that was a wedding gift, a set that did need occasional sharpening, and had just recently been sharpened. A plan began to gesticulate then, nothing solid, but I knew a six inch carving knife would play a big part of it. I began humming to myself, and folded the laundry, I even found an old, dried up joint way back in a drawer in the kitchen, I smoked it, laughing like a high school kid as my plan, simple as it was, formed more solidly in my mind.' She paused, and took a long drink of water.
'When Greg finally got home that night, he didn't pull his gun trick, he merely crawled into bed next to me, I guess it'd been a long night in the ER, or something. Well, I could barely contain myself, and had to count backwards from a thousand six times before I knew he was asleep. When I was certain, I leapt. I rolled over just as fast as I could, and brought the knife with me. In my excitement, I cut myself pretty damn good, but I managed to get the bastard too. I sliced open his arm from wrist to elbow; it surprised me how easily the knife cut through flesh.' She chuckled yet again, drawing some distant pleasure from the memory. 'I leaned forward, put my hand over his mouth and whispered, that if he knew what was good for him, he'd shut the hell up, or he'd watch as I slashed his daughter's throat. Well, that got his attention real quick, and he quit fighting me. I told him, I said, Greg, I'm leaving you, and I'm taking the kids with me. Looking back, I'm not sure why I decided to take Claudette, sentimental attachment I guess. Well, she left before I could, hell; she was seventeen at the time.' Lydia lost the thread of her narrative, and stared off into space a moment. 'I don't know why she didn't just move with her father, it never occurred to me to ask. Well, I took Edgar and moved to Montana, retook my maiden name, and had to institutionalize him. Claudette stayed where she was, and Greg moved down here.'
'I guess then, this brings me to my next question.' Gloria said, feeling detective Brown tense.
'What has any of this got to do with you, or Greg's death?' Lydia answered, snatching the question from the air. 'Easy, I killed that fat bastard, and it's not fair to you to think that he was some saint of goodwill and merriment.'
'Yeah, but if you were going to kill him, why wait so long? Why didn't you do it the night you had the drop on him?' Gloria asked.
'Mostly because of Edgar, and because the thought of actually going through with murder just didn't click for me at that time, but time is a funny thing you see. It's real stretchy, and it plays tricks on you. For the first three years I was away from Greg, I was paranoid, I barely left the house, and jumped every time I'd hear a car backfire. I tried making it work with Edgar, I tried raising him in a home, tried letting him know that it was okay to be normal, if a little slow. But the damage was already done, I couldn't do anything for him and I had to put him in a mental hospital. Greg, that lucky bastard, didn't ever have to worry about anything, because poor, dear Edgar is far too traumatized to say anything about his imprisonment.' She sighed, and looked at Gloria a long time before going on. 'Like I said though, time is funny. Just when you think you've got the past behind you, it comes up and bites you in the ass. I was in the grocery store last July when it occurred to me. Why should that bastard get off for nothing? Why shouldn't he be made to pay? So I began to think of ways to get even. Murder, honestly didn't even occur to me, until I'd already gotten here. I was so happy when I found out that he'd gotten cancer, but of course, his luck held up, and it was an easily treatable form. When I heard that he'd be kept in the hospital overnight because of mild complications, I knew I had to strike, or strike out. Murder is relatively easy, once you set your mind to do it.' Lydia tapped the table as if realizing where she was, and what was going on. 'But putting that needle in his arm, and knowing that he'd die, well that was enough for me. I was almost happy to call it even, but someone I met that works at the medical examiner's office called me and let me know that the coroner had ruled the death incidental, a myocardial infarction. I could've been happy with that, could've gone about my business, but something inside me said no, people had to know the truth, had to know what this bastard did, why I killed him.' She paused again, and stared off into space. 'I could be sitting at home right now, crocheting, watching Maury, but no, I decided to own up to what I did, and do you know why?'
'No.' Gloria answered.
'Because, he did not deserve a natural death, I am not ashamed of what I did, I am not proud of it either, but I stand by it. He got what he had coming to him.' With that, she leaned back, and sighed contentedly, like someone who'd just finished off a large gourmet meal. 'Oh yeah, his last name? He changed it. Well, he changed the spelling. It used to be Algood, with only one L, but after we divorced, he added the other L, because, as he told me, life was all good.' She spat. 'I hope there's a hell, and I hope he's roasting in it right now.' She looked to detective Brown. 'I'm done, you can arrest me now.'
Gloria stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall, a cold paper cup of water clenched forgotten in her hand. Her mind kept rolling over what she'd just been told, and wanted to reject it out of hand. She didn't see Carl Brown walk up to her, and jumped slightly when he put his hand on her shoulder.
'That's a hell of a thing isn't it?' He asked neutrally.
'What's going to happen to her?' Gloria asked, downing her water, and getting herself more from the water cooler.
'Chances are she'll be sent to psyche, to get evaluated. Something tells me that she wasn't lying. If she wasn't... man, what a hell of a thing' He said, repeating his first sentiment. Need a ride?' He asked.
'No, I think I'll catch a cab, I need to sort through all of this.'
'Hell of a thing.' Carl said as way of departing greeting.
'Hell of a thing.' Gloria echoed, making her way towards the exit.
It was a hell of a thing, she thought later in the back of the cab. The gentle giant she'd known for the past six years was a monster allegedly. Could Greg really be that same person, and if so, how did he manage to hide it so well? She leaned against the cool, damp window and watched the world streak by outside, her thoughts a jumbled mess.
Full free audiobook. Listen now. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vAQROzxB6ow&list=PL8eJT6MpCTmJoUx0_Bf5-InKdP5Kogy4b) This book is about life and death and overcoming personal struggles to discover the real you that is hidden inside. The story empha
Undercover Reunion, a novel of romance and adventure for Baby Boomers,fans of “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.” and anyone who has ever attended their high school reunion!
