Read Swan Song (Julie O'Hara Mystery Series) for Free Online Page A

was surprised by the relative neatness of it all.
    Linc plopped into the chair behind the desk.
    “So, how you like Pleasure Ride, Ms. O’Hara?”
    The double entendre was not lost on her.
    “It’s beautiful, Linc. You can probably tell I love horses.”
    “Yep. Do you ride?”
    “When I was a kid,” said Julie, smiling as she remembered.
    “You should come back. We got some great trails in the Ocala National Forest and the Greenway. You can go half-day or all day.”
    “Now I’m feeling left out, Linc,” said Joe. “You didn’t ask me to come back.”
    Both men laughed, and Linc said, “You already came back, Mr. Garrett.”
    Lincoln invites female attention; it’s different, though, somehow. It’s almost as if he’s doing it to validate his own masculinity.
    “Did Dianna ride, Linc?” she asked.
    It was comedy to tragedy. Like a clown smiling and passing a hand down over his face, Lincoln’s features were suddenly pulled downward. His misery was palpable.
    “Yeah, she did.”
    “Did she come up here to ride? Is that how you met?”
    “No,” he said, “we met last year, in February.”
    His eyes drifted aside, as if he were remembering.
    “It was at the Silver Spurs Rodeo …”
     
    “C owboy up!”
    The gate swung open and instantly Linc’s focus narrowed to the rhythm and swing of the bull. The pulsing of his own blood drowned out the roar of the rodeo fans in the Silver Spurs Arena. Black Lightning was two-thousand pounds of pissed-off fury, determined to rid himself of the weight on his back. Linc held onto the braided rope with a single gloved hand, his other arm whipping around for balance on the furious, spinning bull.
    Addicted to the danger of bull-riding, Linc craved the adrenalin rush. When it coursed through him, the brief ride became a slow-motion high where his seat and control were perfect. He gloried in it for stretched-out seconds, and then dismounted cleanly on the outside of a spin.
    The pick-up rider swung Linc up behind him on his horse, while the nearest bullfighter, a clown in a barrel, emerged to distract the angry bull. Linc, exhilarated, waved to the crowd as they cantered away. Just before the exit, he thanked the pick-up and jumped off.
    Dianna was there, right behind the rail. She had on low-rider jeans and a body-hugging red jersey. Her blue-green eyes were fringed with dark lashes, her skin the color of cream. She leaned over the railing, sweeping her dark hair away from her eyes.
    They were meant for each other.
    He called her that night and asked her to come to Pleasure Ride Farm. Mid-week had been best for both of them, since the weekends were busy. She arrived late Tuesday morning…and left on Wednesday. They’d gone riding in the forest, and planned to have dinner afterwards at Chili’s. Neither of them said anything about staying the night. They didn’t have to; it was a foregone conclusion.
    They made love all night…on the floor in front of the fireplace, in his bed, in the shower. He’d been through hell and back in his life, but none of it mattered as long as he had Dianna.
    Ten times she came to Pleasure Ride. And then she stopped.
     
    “Lincoln? I was asking when you saw her last?”
    “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. It was after Thanksgiving, the first week of December, I think. Dianna came up every once in awhile, but, like I told Mr. Garrett, we weren’t serious.”
    “Was she depressed or despondent about anything, Linc?”
    “Not when I saw her, but that was two months before she…you know…”
    “But you two talked on the phone during that time, right?” asked Joe. “She might have mentioned something, been upset about something…”
    “No. We didn’t have much contact after December.” He shifted in his seat, leaning forward, his forearms on his legs. His head was tilted down, but his eyes were looking up at them. It was vintage James Dean; the real Linc had disappeared. “I don’t know what else I can tell you. I sure hope you