Read Against Me (Cedar Tree Book 3) for Free Online

of June Cleaver.
    Mal came back loaded down with boxes of groceries and had the foresight to stock up on the basics as well. Good thing too, since everything that was there before is now in the trash. He’s still here, not talking much mind you, but I figure this silent standoff we have going on here, on home ground, might provide me with a better chance to get some information than when I try and chase him down on his turf. Still, it fills me with guilt. All of it does. The conditions my parents live under, lying about the reason for being here, lulling my brother into some kind of companionship just to fuck him over. Sure, I stand on the right side of the law, but Christ. These are my people; my family. They’re all I have left and it shames me. They shame me. Fuck.
    Pops woke up briefly when Mal came in with the groceries and barely coherently started yelling at us being in his house. Something about respect for your elders. Right.
    "Shut up, Pops," Mal snarled at him, when he kept on rambling.
    I promised myself long ago not to get sucked into the negativity any longer, so I didn't say a word. My parents and brother chose their path; it didn't mean I had to be dragged along. I would stand by my choices, on my own if I had to, and I had for over twenty years now.
    "Your fucking phone's ringing!" Mal's voice comes bellowing up the stairway. I must've left it in the kitchen when I was cleaning there. Taking two steps at a time, I make a beeline for the kitchen, hoping the ringing hasn't woken my father again. Don't need another repeat performance.
    I find Mal standing by the kitchen counter, my cell in his hand. He’s looking at the screen with his eyes squinted tight, listening to it ring in his hand.
    "Phone?"  I hold out my hand expectantly.
    He tears his eyes from the screen and without a word, tosses my cell on the counter and walks out of the kitchen. What the hell?
    I snatch it up and hit talk, “Yeah?”
    "Know you're busy, my friend, but we have a situation. It's Katie."

    My son...
    Why would Juan call the creepy Latino guy 'son' when that's supposed to be his nephew? For all the time I've spent with him over the past month or so, I've never seen him this upset, or known him to be that confused. Would this be one of his children? The ones who never show their faces? The investigator in me has bells going off all over the place. I don't have a very good feeling about this, but have nothing to really base it on.
    The incident with Juan made me forget all about dinner, and with a quick glance at the clock, I see I have to hustle if I want to make it to the dining room in time for the last sitting. Grabbing a light sweater and my room keys, I head out, keeping an eye on my neighbor's door, but there’s no sign of life.
    Downstairs, I find the dining room almost empty, most folks here preferring to eat earlier. Juan often joins me later. Looking to our usual spot, I'm a little disappointed to find the table empty, but I grab a tray and make my selection, then I sit by myself.
    Halfway through a tasteless chunk of tilapia and some steamed vegetables in an attempt to battle my growing bulge, I notice Sue on the other side of the dining room and wave to get her attention.
    "Hey girl, watcha doing sitting here all by your lonesome?" She asks as she pulls out a chair to sit down beside me.
    "Almost forgot to eat after that little scene outside my door earlier. You on break?"
    "Nah, I'm done for the day. I was on my way to grab a coffee for the drive home, but I'll sit with you for a bit." She plops her bag on an empty chair next to her and settles in.
    "So what's with the slinky smooth dude? You've seen him before?"
    "Ugh," she says, making a face, "Ernesto. He’s as fake as a two-dollar bill. All smiles and teeth until you look into his eyes. They're black holes; dead and soulless. No emotion in them whatsoever. He freaks me out. First time I saw him was last year when Juan moved in, which was just after you did. I