Stranger in My House (A Murder In Texas) by Mari Manning Page B

the pillows. Jeez. What was wrong with her feet? They throbbed like a son of a bitch.
    “My feet—”
    “You scraped them up pretty bad. You’ll be limping for a few days.”
    Frustration knotted the back of her neck. Pain pounded her head. She swung out of the bed. “What was I doing? How did I get here?” She swayed. Maguire’s hands closed over her shoulders, steadying her.
    “Not so fast. You’ll hurt yourself.”
    “I want to know what happened to me. Now.”
    He sat down on the bed beside her. The mattress sank. “You have some questions for me, and I have some questions for you. Let’s trade.”
    That sounded dangerous.
    “Me first.” His mouth hardened. “Who are you?”
    That sounded even more dangerous. “What?”
    “You heard me.”
    “I-I’m Frankie.”
    “You’re lying,” he said.
    “You’re hallucinating.”
    He leaned in close and looked straight at her. “Your eyes turned brown.”
    Kirby blinked. Shoot. No green contacts. “It’s just the light.”
    He growled at her. “Bullshit. I want the truth.”
    “Why should I tell you anything?”
    An eyebrow rose. “Because I’m the only friend you got around here.”
    He was as crazy as Miss Bea. “Friend? Let’s look at the evidence. You come on to me in the barn, chase me all over El Royo, drug me, and then you tell me you’re my friend.”
    “I didn’t drug you, but I knew about it.”
    “It was Miss Bea, wasn’t it?” His eyes refused to meet hers. As close to a yes as she was going to get. “Why would she drug me?”
    “Tell me who you are and why you’re pretending to be Frankie.”
    She studied his face. He allowed it, watching impassively, probably savoring the advantage he held. She’d been outed. That much was clear. She’d have to trust him or leave without finding Charleen or helping Frankie.
    “I’d like your promise of confidentiality.”
    Amusement fired the depths of his eyes. “Well, now. That depends on what you tell me.”
    He could keep her for as long as it took her to spit out the truth. Unless she wanted to limp across the yard bare-ass naked except for her T-shirt and panties. No doubt to the amusement of the women in the house and probably Manny as well. From the look on Maguire’s face, it was clear she had no hope of persuading him she was Frankie. He’d figured it out, and unless he was willing to look the other way, she was finished here.
    “I’m Kirby. Kirby Swallow. Frankie’s half sister.”
    His eyes widened. “Where’s Frankie?”
    “She’s in Tulsa, staying at my house.”
    “Go on.”
    “She showed up last week. Scared to death. She said Charleen disappeared, and she begged me to trade places and find out what happened to her momma.”
    “Well, here’s what happened. Charleen disappears at least once a month. A horny man comes and picks her up, and they drive away. A few days or weeks later, she comes back.” He grimaced. “Usually worse for wear. None of this is news to Frankie.”
    “How long has Charleen been gone?”
    “Week, week and a half. I don’t keep count. You don’t really believe she was kidnapped, do you?” He sounded incredulous…and mad. “You and Frankie lie so much you’re beginning to believe your bullshit. Go back to Tulsa. And feel free to keep Frankie just as long as you like.”
    “Look, I know this is upsetting—”
    “Upsetting?” He stood, prowled the bedroom, kicked viciously at the piles of clothes. “You sneak in here pretending to be someone else, lie to all of us, and you think it’s upsetting?” He was roaring now. “Is your whole family so self-centered and clueless, or is it just you and Frankie?”
    That did it. Kirby catapulted herself off the bed. Her head began to buzz. Her feet throbbed. She didn’t care. “Maybe my family is self-centered, and maybe we are clueless, but we don’t drug people and we don’t chase them into town and we certainly don’t shoot at them.” She let her gaze burn into his so he’d know