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Each word was carefully formed—a little too carefully. Something was definitely off. She ventured closer. “Are you okay, Frank?”

“Perfect.”

She was finally close enough to catch a whiff of alcohol. Not beer—something stronger. “You’ve had a few.”

He looked wounded. “Maybe I had reason. You know, ever since you called, I keep seeing that bastard’s face.” He spat the name: “Hallett. Thinks he got away with it. I’ve seen guys like him, and they don’t stop. They never stop. He’s been laughing at us for five fucking years. Can’t you feel it?” The anguish in his voice tore at her. “You and I both know what he did. He knows we know. And that’s how he gets off, rubbing our noses in it, loving the fact that we can’t touch him. But we’re the same, you and me. Can’t let go.” His voice softened. “But we can nail him this time. I know we can.” Cordova pointed an unsteady finger at her. “He doesn’t know we found the other one.”

“Frank, what are you talking about?”

“The other girl, the one from Hidden Falls. You don’t know about her either. Nobody does. He thinks we’re stupid, can’t add two and two.”

“Who is this other girl? What’s she got to do with Tríona?”

Cordova squeezed his eyes tight. “You know, just forget about it. I shouldn’t have said anything. Jesus. I don’t know who she is, or if she’s got anything to do with anything.” He rubbed his head as if it pained him. “I don’t know why I told you. I’m not thinking straight—”

He suddenly lost his balance and lurched forward, forcing her to reach out and place one hand against his chest. The liquor on his breath mingled with a faint, not unpleasant musk of perspiration and the barest whiff of cologne. That volatile mixture had done her in once before. If she wasn’t very careful, it could complicate matters again in a way that neither of them needed right now. Frank Cordova wasn’t in any shape to think things through tonight. Nora pushed against his chest with both hands, trying to set him upright. “We’ll figure it out, but not right now, not tonight. It’s late, and I’m completely wrecked—”

He resisted her efforts and leaned in harder, pressing against her, his warm breath brushing her ear. “What’s the matter? You think if you let me in, we’d end up where we were before? Is it the worst that could happen?” As he spoke, his hands came up, the right around her waist, the left grasping her wrist as though they were dancing. Hot blood flushed her face and throat, a fierce flood of desire. She felt his eyes seeking hers in the humid darkness, and turned away, half afraid that he would find what he was looking for. Even standing with two feet on solid ground, she felt the heady, dangerous pull of that precipice. It would be so easy to go over, to forget about Cormac and all that had happened these past three years. Frank Cordova knew everything. He’d seen her at her absolute lowest point. As if he had read her thoughts, he said: “Don’t be afraid. I’ll catch you.”

He stepped closer, and all at once she felt a sharp jab as Cormac’s hazel knot poked into her hip. It was as if the pain pricked her awake. “Come on, Frank—I haven’t slept for three days. What we both need is a good night’s rest. Where’s your car?”

His face was still pressed into her hair. “Don’t ask me about the car. Fuck the car. God, you smell good.”

She tried to pull free of his grasp, but he held on. She said: “Okay, we’ll forget about the car. Why don’t I call you a cab?”

At that, he drew back and looked at her, wounded and groggy. “You think I’m being a prick.”

“Frank, stop it—you know that’s not what I think.”

“You do. You think I’m an inconsiderate, selfish prick. Maybe you’re right.” He put his head down and bulled forward, accidentally brushing against her as he made his way out the narrow sidewalk to the street. She held her breath as he lowered himself rather unsteadily to the curbstone and finally rested his head against crossed arms, like a wretched child. He was going to feel like hell in the morning, and there was nothing she could do about that either. She studied the back of his bowed head, trying to imagine spending day after day as he did, raking through the deliberate harm people did to one another. After a while, maybe even your own fundamental decency wasn’t enough protection. She reached for her phone to call a taxi, then headed out to join him at the curb.

It was nearly eleven, and in the gradually cooling night, the damp air had begun to cling like mist, making a halo around the light of the single street lamp. The roar of freeway noise below them was overlaid with a sharp, constant chorus of crickets.

“Get some sleep, Frank. We can talk in the morning.”

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False Mermaid
False Mermaid

AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR ERIN HART DELIVERS A SEARING NEW NOVEL OF SUSPENSE, BRILLIANTLY MELDING MODERN FORENSICS AND IRISH MYTH AND MYSTERY IN THIS CHARGED THRILLER.American pathologist Nora Gavin fled to Ireland three years ago, hoping that distance from home would bring her peace. Though she threw herself into the study of bog bodies and the mysteries of their circumstances, she was ultimately led back to the one mystery she was unable to solve: the murder of her sister, Tríona. Nora can't move forward until she goes back—back to her home, to the scene of the crime, to the source of her nightmares and her deepest regrets.Determined to put her sister's case to rest and anxious about her eleven-year-old niece, Elizabeth, Nora returns to Saint Paul, Minnesota, to find that her brother-in-law, Peter Hallett, is about to remarry and has plans to leave the country with his new bride. Nora has long suspected Hallett in Tríona's murder, though there has never been any proof of his involvement, and now she believes that his new wife and Elizabeth may both be in danger. Time is short, and as Nora begins reinvestigating her sister's death, missed clues and ever-more disturbing details come to light. What is the significance of the "false mermaid" seeds found on Tríona's body? Why was her behavior so erratic in the days before her murder?Is there a link between Tríona's death and that of another young woman?Nora's search for answers takes her from the banks of the Mississippi to the cliffs of Ireland, where the eerie story of a fisherman's wife who vanished more than a century ago offers up uncanny parallels. As painful secrets come to light, Nora is drawn deeper into a past that still threatens to engulf her and must determine how much she is prepared to sacrifice to put one tragedy to rest… and to make sure that history doesn't repeat itself.

Эрин Харт

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