Tell Me No Secrets

Tell Me No Secrets

by Joy Fielding

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780380721221
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Publication date: 03/01/1994
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 416
Product dimensions: 4.18(w) x 6.75(h) x 1.04(d)

About the Author

Joy Fielding's ability to portray the lives of ordinary women inextraordinary circumstances—as in See Jane Run andTell Me No Secrets—has made her an internationalbestselling author. She lives in Toronto with herhusband and their two daughters, and spends partof the year in Palm Beach, Florida.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One The words hung suspended in the space between them, like laundry someone had forgotten to take off the line. Jess held her breath, sensing Connie was on the verge of capitulating, afraid to do anything that might tip the delicate balance in the other direction. Another speech was already working its way to the tip of her tongue. There's an easy way to do this, it began, and there's a hard way. The easy way is that you agree to testify as planned. The hard way is that I'll have to force you to testify. I'll get the judge to issue a bench warrant for your arrest, force you to come to court, force you to take the stand. And if you still refuse to testify, the judge can, and will, hold you in contempt, send you to jail. Wouldn't that be a tragedy--you in jail and not the man who attacked you?

Jess waited, fully prepared to use these words if she had to, silently praying they wouldn't be necessary. "Come on, Connie," she said, giving it one last try. "You've fought back before. After your husband died, you didn't give up, you went to night school, you got a job so that you could provide for your son. You're a fighter, Connie. You've always been a fighter. Don't let Rick Ferguson take that away from you. Fight back, Connie. Fight back."

Connie said nothing, but there was a slight stiffening of her back. Her shoulders lifted. Finally, she nodded.

Jess reached for Connie's hands. "You'll testify?"

Connie's voice was a whisper. "God help me."

"We'll take all the help we can get." Jess checked her watch, rose quickly to her feet. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

Neil and Barbara had already left for court, and Jess ushered Connie along the corridor ofthe state's attorney's offices, past the display of cut-off ties that lined one wall, symbolizing each prosecutor's first win before a jury. The halls were decorated in preparation for Halloween, large orange paper pumpkins and witches on broomsticks taped across the walls, like in a kindergarten class, Jess thought, accepting Greg Oliver's "good luck" salutations, and proceeding through the reception area to the bank of elevators outside the glass doors. From the large window at the far end of the six elevators, the whole west side and northwest side of the city was visible. On a nice day, O'Hare Airport could be easily discerned. Even faraway Du Page County seemed within reach.

The women said nothing on the ride down to the main floor, knowing everything important had already been said. They exited the elevator and rounded the corner, pointedly ignoring the Victim-Witness Services Office with its large picture-laden poster proclaiming WE REMEMBER YOU . . . IN LOVING MEMORY OF. . . and proceeded to the glassed-in, rectangular hallway that connected the Administration Building to the courthouse next door. "Where are you parked?" Jess asked, about to guide Connie through the airportlike security to the outside.

"I took the bus," Connie DeVuono began, then stopped abruptly, her hand lifting to her mouth. "Oh my God!"

"What? What's the matter?" Jess followed the woman's frightened gaze.

The man was standing at the opposite end of the corridor, leaning against the cold expanse of glass wall, his lean frame heavy with menace, his blunt features partially obscured by the thick mass of long, uncombed, dark blond hair that fell over the collar of his brown leather jacket. As his body swiveled slowly around to greet them, Jess watched the side of his lips twist into the same chilling grin that had greeted her arrival at work that morning.

I am Death, the grin said.

Jess shuddered, then tried to pretend it was from a gust of cold air that had sneaked into the lobby through the revolving doors.

Rick Ferguson, she realized.

"I want you to take a taxi," Jess told Connie, seeing one pull up to drop somebody off, guiding Connie through the doors onto California Avenue, and thrusting ten dollars into her hand. "I'll take care of Rick Ferguson."

Connie said nothing. It was as if she had expended all her energy in Jess's office, and she simply had no more strength to argue. Tightly clutching the ten-dollar bill, she allowed Jess to put her in the cab, not bothering to look back as the car pulled away. Jess remained for a moment on the sidewalk, trying to still the loud thumping in her chest, then turned around and pushed her way back through the revolving doors.

He hadn't moved.

Jess strode toward him across the long corridor, the heels of her black pumps clicking on the hard granite floor, watching as Rick Ferguson's features snapped into sharper focus with each step. The vague generic menace he projected--white male, early twenties, five feet ten inches tall, 170 pounds, blond hair, brown eyes--became more concrete, individualized--shoulders that stooped slightly, unkempt hair pulled into a loose ponytail, deeply hooded cobralike eyes, a nose that had been broken several times and never properly reset, and always that same unnerving grin.

"I'm warning you to stay away from my client," Jess announced when she reached him, not giving him the chance to interrupt. "If you show up within fifty yards of her again, even accidentally, if you try to speak to her or contact her in any way, if you leave any more gruesome little presents outside her door, I'll have your bail revoked and your ass in jail. Am I making myself clear?"

"You know," he said, speaking very deliberately, as if he were in the middle of an entirely different conversation, "it's not such a great idea to get on my bad side."

Jess almost laughed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rick Ferguson shifted his body weight from one foot to the other, then shrugged, managing to appear almost bored. He looked around, scratched at the side of his nose. "It's just that people who annoy me have a way of . . . disappearing."

Jess found herself taking an involuntary step back. A cold shiver, like a drill, snaked its way through her chest to her gut. She had to fight the sudden urge to throw up. When she spoke, her voice was hollow, lacking resonance. "Are you threatening me?"

Rick Ferguson pushed his body away from the wall. His smile widened. I am Death, the smile said. I have come for you.

Then he walked away without a backward glance.

Copyright ) 1993 by Joy Fielding

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Tell Me No Secrets 3.7 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
TinyDancer11 on LibraryThing 8 months ago
A good suspense novel. Slightly boring at times, but overall an enjoyable read.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Guest More than 1 year ago
THIS JOY FIELDING MYSTERY HAS AN INTERESTING PLOT AND VERY SURPRISING CONCLUSION. I WOULD RECOMMEND THIS BOOK TO ALL MYSTERY LOVERS. HARD TO PUT DOWN!