The Next Wife by Kaira Rouda (speld decodable readers txt) 📕

I pull into my garage, but I’m restless. And hungry. I hurry inside the house, into the kitchen, and yank on the refrigerator door. I am greeted as usual by empty shelves. I need to learn this work-life balance thing now that I’m an executive. I need someone to do the grocery shopping for me. As I stand staring at the empty shelves, I feel the heat start pumping from the ceiling. I know what’s next. Music will blast from the speakers any minute.

I slam the refrigerator door and remind myself to stay calm. Heat is good for the skin, I tell myself as I push open the kitchen windows. This situation makes me furious. I don’t believe in letting ghosts get the upper hand. I believe in winning, and I will outlast this hot haunted house, and all of these people who are out to get me.

Nobody better try to mess with me. Not Kate, certainly not Ashlyn. I’m a step ahead, and I just may have a few more tricks up my little old sleeve.

CHAPTER 42

ASHLYN

I know Seth doesn’t believe me about how dangerous Tish is, but he still walks me out to the car. I also know he wants to kiss me, and I’m starting to think that might be a good idea, despite the fact I’m going back to college in the next couple of days.

“Thanks for calming me down this afternoon,” I say and reach for his hand. It’s dark outside, and crickets chirp like crazy.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he says. “I’m here for you. One of the benefits of going to Ohio State.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, and the next thing you know we share a heart-tingling kiss. I pull away. “Let’s take it slow. We’ve been friends forever.”

“You’re right.” He opens the door to my car. “Hey, this isn’t good. You left your door unlocked. Lock the doors. All the time. I’m worried about you.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, and I know he’s right. In my hurry to get inside his house, I forgot. I look around the front seat, and everything seems fine. “I’ll text when I get home.”

Seth stays at the curb as I drive away. I push my new confusing feelings for him away and focus on the drive, constantly looking in my rearview mirror. I don’t trust Tish, but I know I’m being paranoid and I’m imagining things. Seth is right. She’s crazy, but she’s not dangerous. I need to let it go.

As I pull onto Lane Avenue, my car starts freaking out. My fried emotions go into overdrive, and my hands shake on the wheel. What is happening? My dashboard has crazy lights everywhere. I’m going forty miles an hour, but my car isn’t responding to anything I do. I pump the brakes but nothing happens, the steering wheel won’t turn when I pull on it. Ahead is the highway and a huge intersection. On my right is a shopping mall parking lot. I use all of my strength to yank the steering wheel. I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch as I feel my car fly over the curb and crash into a parked car.

The last thing I remember is the sound of crunching metal, the airbag muffling my screams.

CHAPTER 43

KATE

I escort Bob into the family room, a place that used to be a refuge, but not anymore. Everything has shifted, nothing is as it seems. I need to focus. I shove the will, the real will, across the coffee table as we sit facing each other. I still don’t like the worried expression on his face. But I’m not backing down. Bob should know that by now.

“I know one thing for sure—the John I married, the John I built a company with, and the John who is the father of our daughter would never do this. He wouldn’t. This is his will. The only will.” I slap the paper with my hand for emphasis, and Bob jumps. “He never went to that notary. He never sat down with George Price. He would have used you to execute a new will.”

“I agree. There’s something I need to tell you.” He shakes his head and places the new will on the table. “This was filed with the state one week before John’s death.”

“What? Just a week before John died. What are you trying to say?” I ask, and pull my cardigan closed to fight a sudden chill.

“I think it’s suspicious. I mean they file a new will, they even added in a no-contest clause of all things. It’s buttoned up, and then, conveniently, John dies a sudden death a week later.” Bob stands and paces the room as my mind struggles to take in his words.

Oh my god. I place my hand over my heart and lean back into the couch. “What has she done?”

Bob stops pacing and stands in front of me. His suit is rumpled, his hair is, too, and there’s a dark five-o’clock shadow taking hold, matching the color of the circles under his eyes. “I just wouldn’t put anything past her, would you?”

“No,” I answer. My voice is shaky.

“The timing is suspect. They could have filed the will and then set the plan in place to kill him.” Bob stares at me.

My hand covers my mouth as I shake my head. Everything is in slow motion, like I’m watching Bob on a movie screen. “Tish is a killer? Tish killed John?”

Bob nods, unblinking.

This isn’t a joke.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I manage, the words coming out slow and thick.

“It’s possible, I’m afraid.”

The realization that John may have been murdered by Tish is overwhelming.

“I need a minute. Can you excuse me, please?” I hurry from the room and run up the stairs to the privacy of my bedroom. What was once our bedroom. I sit on John’s side of the bed and try to imagine his last