The Perfect Couple (Last Stand #4)(4)
Author: Brenda Novak

"I bet those are fake," Sam muttered, glancing down at her own flat chest. At thirteen, there was no reason to give up hope, but she didn’t seem to be developing very fast. While her best friend, Marti Seacrest, was already a B-cup, Sam didn’t even need a bra. Her mother called her a "late bloomer," as if it wasn’t a big deal. But the boys at school ignored late bloomers. Any guys who bothered to notice her called her Brainiac, but they didn’t stare at her the way they did Marti.

"What am I gonna do?" Tiffany moaned.

Samantha looked around the yard. She didn’t see anyone else. Could Tiffany be talking to her?

"Excuse me?" she said.

Tiffany’s head jerked toward her so fast Samantha could almost hear the bones in her neck crack. "Who is it? Who’s there?"

Sam immediately realized her error, but it was too late. Palms against the rough wood of the fence, she leaned closer. She could see Tiffany’s body but not much of her face. Her neighbor was standing in the shade of the patio cover. "It’s me. Sam. I’m home from school today. Actually, I’ve been staying home for a while."

"Why?"

"I’ve been sick."

"You seem okay to me."

"I’m getting better."

"So what are you doing, staring through the fence?"

"I’m bored." She missed her friends. She missed her mother even more.

Tiffany didn’t answer. She remained on the porch, clicking her nails.

Sam couldn’t hear it, but she could see the motion of her fingers.

"What’s wrong?" Sam asked.

"What makes you think something’s wrong?"

Not only was Tiffany acting strange, she was dressed like a bum. She never grubbed out. She always wore stylish, name-brand jeans, heels, nice sweaters or pretty summer blouses.

"You seem…nervous. And you’re not usually home this time of day."

Her neighbor raised her voice. "You know my schedule?"

"Not really. I–"

"You just said I’m not usually home this time of day."

"Because…don’t you work?"

"You tell me, since you seem to be keeping track."

"I’m not keeping track of anything," Sam said.

"Then what makes you think I’m nervous?"

Sam could feel it. But she could also tell that she was somehow saying all the wrong things. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you."

"Wait!"

She wasn’t interested in talking anymore, but Tiffany’s voice caught her before she could step away.

"How long have you been staying home from school?"

The suspicion in those words made Sam uneasy. She’d heard that tone from adults before, generally from Anton since he’d come into their lives.

But Sam hadn’t "misbehaved." She closed one eye to see through the knothole more clearly. "For the past ten days or so."

Her neighbor moved outside the shadow of the patio cover. In the sunlight, Samantha could see that Tiffany had been crying. Mascara ran from her eyes, which were red and puffy.

At least now she understood why her usually very nice neighbor was acting so weird. No one liked to be seen crying. "Can I help?" she asked.

Tiffany crossed the lawn. The Bells didn’t own a pool or even a barbecue. "How often do you do this?"

"Do what?"

She motioned toward her house. "Watch us."

Her alarm increased. "I don’t…watch you."

"You were just staring at me through the fence, weren’t you?"

"No. Not really. I mean, I heard you come outside and I was bored, so…" She cleared her throat. "I thought I’d say hi."

Tiffany was close now, close enough that Samantha could see a dark-red substance smeared on her shirt. It looked like…blood. Had she cut herself? Maybe that was why she’d been crying.

"Are you hurt?"

Tiffany’s eyes narrowed. "No."

Sam nibbled at her bottom lip. "That’s not blood?"

Her neighbor glanced down, staggered to the side and rubbed her forehead. "Shit! Shit, shit, shit! I–I didn’t realize!"

"Do you need help?"

"I can’t…I don’t know what to do. It’s been a bad day. A very bad day."

"I could call the paramedics."

"No, don’t call anyone!" Fresh tears made new tracks in her mascara.

"Just tell my husband I…he needs to come home."

"Where is he? At work?"

She stripped off her shirt and threw it away from her as if she couldn’t bear the feel of it, and didn’t answer.

Surprised that her neighbor would stand outside in her bra, which was skimpier than most and definitely too small, Samantha tried again. "What’s his number?"

"His…what? I can’t…I can’t remember it right now." Suddenly, she doubled over, struggling to catch her breath and vomited on the grass.

What was going on? Samantha had no idea, but it was obviously serious. She had to get Colin. He’d know what to do. "Is your husband listed in the directory of your cell phone?"

"Yes, that’s it." She was breathing hard, but she wiped her mouth and tilted her head back as if she was done being sick for the moment. "My cell."

"Okay. Stay right where you are." Sam ran toward the gate that would let her in the front yard but stopped when Tiffany started crying.

"I’m sorry," she moaned to no one in particular. "I’m so sorry."

The torment in Tiffany’s wail drew her back to the fence. "For what?

Tiffany, it’ll be okay."

Falling silent, Tiffany rocked into a sitting position. "Yes, it’ll be okay. It wasn’t my fault. He won’t blame me."

"What’re you talking about?"

With a sniff, Tiffany wiped her eyes, spreading mascara even farther.

"Nothing. I’m not feeling well. Not…thinking straight."

"Don’t worry, I’m on my way," Sam said and hurried over to do what she could to help.

Chapter 3

Zoe frowned as she hung up the phone. She’d been trying to reach her daughter for the past two hours, but she couldn’t get Sammie to pick up. Was it because she couldn’t hear the phone? Maybe she’d fallen asleep with the radio on–

"Excuse me?"

Jan Buppa, the office manager, stood over her desk. Preoccupied with worry, Zoe hadn’t heard even a rustle or a footstep, which wasn’t surprising since she sat out in the open with the other clerical support staff and had learned to ignore most of the noise and movement so she could get her work done.

Generally, ignoring the chaos was a good thing–but it was always better to see Jan coming.

"I hate to interrupt a daydream that looks as absorbing as that one,"