Read Online Cherringham--A Fatal Fall by Matthew Costello - Free Book Online
Authors: Matthew Costello
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walked to a window that faced the rear of the property.
Standing there, listening, she felt that she was spying — but in truth it was hard not to hear the yelling.
Now it was a three-way battle, Winters’ wife now pleading with the girl to “calm down, stop yelling …”
Then, a bullish voice — Winters — declaring in a matter-of-fact tone, his voice rough, edgy … “you will do as we say, Nadine. You understand?”
Then — that moment that most parents must dread.
Your child completely dismissing you, like being hit by a two-by-four.
“Screw you … both of you.”
Out of the window, Sarah saw that Winters’ land rolled up to some hills, beautiful grounds, and, to the side, she saw a paddock, horses standing in the cold.
Now she heard steps tumbling down the stairs, someone taking them two, three at a time.
Winters voice from upstairs, barking her name again.
But then — a blur — as Sarah turned and she saw from the back the teenager, wearing riding gear and hat, race to the front door, open it, a blast of cold air rushing in and to punctuate the whole scene — a slam.
And then silence.
I’d give anything to just disappear, she thought.
She even toyed with the idea that she might just quietly back out of the room, hurry to her car …
But even with that thought lingering, Sarah heard heavier steps on the stairs.
And she turned from the window as Winters entered the room, his face blank.
A few steps into the room, and he finally looked to her — then shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“Sorry about that,” he said, shaking his head. “Teenage girls — you know?”
“I’ve got one myself,” Sarah said. “It can be hard.”
“Those horses,” he said. “Life revolves around them.”
Sarah turned back to the window. She could just see the girl in the distant paddock, mounting one of the horses.
“I really don’t have any more questions, Mr. Winters …”
Which wasn’t true — she wanted to know if he had heard of any enemies of McCabe — but she knew this wasn’t the right time.
“Yes,” he said. “Well, you know what I know. Not much. And — if you have any other questions …”
“I’ll give you a call.”
“I’m really sorry about … that,” he said.
“It’s not a problem. I quite understand.”
“I can show you out …”
She was about to say ‘no’.
But then — that too would be embarrassing, as if she felt uncomfortable with him now.
So she picked up her coat and notebook, and let Winters walk her to the doors, the mood very different from when she’d entered the home.
*
When she got to her car door, she realised she could just see a bit of the paddock, and what looked like a horse trail leading up to a distant hill.
And Sarah also saw what had to be the girl on a horse, galloping full throttle, racing up to that hill.
It brought Sarah back to when she was young, when she rebelled a bit against her parents … and how getting out, in the cool air, away … somehow made things better.
For the moment, thoughts of McCabe and his death — accident or not — receded with that memory.
She had stepped into a very different kind of story.
And she knew — now — of only one way to shake it off.
She got into her Rav-4, slid her finger to unlock her phone’s screen and access recent calls.
She pressed one, then put the phone up to her ear.
Jack answered on the first ring.
“Hi Jack … I’m leaving Winter’s place now. Fancy meeting up at Huffington’s for an update?”
She wanted, no, needed that normalcy of Jack after the storm inside the house.
His answer … as expected.
“You bet.”
“Be there in fifteen,” she said.
And then she started her car and slowly took the circle driveway back to the path that lead to the gate, now opening on approach … as she drove away from the world of Charlie Winters and his family.
*
“Tough stuff to be in the middle of. Other people’s problems, struggles.”
Jack had insisted that they
Standing there, listening, she felt that she was spying — but in truth it was hard not to hear the yelling.
Now it was a three-way battle, Winters’ wife now pleading with the girl to “calm down, stop yelling …”
Then, a bullish voice — Winters — declaring in a matter-of-fact tone, his voice rough, edgy … “you will do as we say, Nadine. You understand?”
Then — that moment that most parents must dread.
Your child completely dismissing you, like being hit by a two-by-four.
“Screw you … both of you.”
Out of the window, Sarah saw that Winters’ land rolled up to some hills, beautiful grounds, and, to the side, she saw a paddock, horses standing in the cold.
Now she heard steps tumbling down the stairs, someone taking them two, three at a time.
Winters voice from upstairs, barking her name again.
But then — a blur — as Sarah turned and she saw from the back the teenager, wearing riding gear and hat, race to the front door, open it, a blast of cold air rushing in and to punctuate the whole scene — a slam.
And then silence.
I’d give anything to just disappear, she thought.
She even toyed with the idea that she might just quietly back out of the room, hurry to her car …
But even with that thought lingering, Sarah heard heavier steps on the stairs.
And she turned from the window as Winters entered the room, his face blank.
A few steps into the room, and he finally looked to her — then shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“Sorry about that,” he said, shaking his head. “Teenage girls — you know?”
“I’ve got one myself,” Sarah said. “It can be hard.”
“Those horses,” he said. “Life revolves around them.”
Sarah turned back to the window. She could just see the girl in the distant paddock, mounting one of the horses.
“I really don’t have any more questions, Mr. Winters …”
Which wasn’t true — she wanted to know if he had heard of any enemies of McCabe — but she knew this wasn’t the right time.
“Yes,” he said. “Well, you know what I know. Not much. And — if you have any other questions …”
“I’ll give you a call.”
“I’m really sorry about … that,” he said.
“It’s not a problem. I quite understand.”
“I can show you out …”
She was about to say ‘no’.
But then — that too would be embarrassing, as if she felt uncomfortable with him now.
So she picked up her coat and notebook, and let Winters walk her to the doors, the mood very different from when she’d entered the home.
*
When she got to her car door, she realised she could just see a bit of the paddock, and what looked like a horse trail leading up to a distant hill.
And Sarah also saw what had to be the girl on a horse, galloping full throttle, racing up to that hill.
It brought Sarah back to when she was young, when she rebelled a bit against her parents … and how getting out, in the cool air, away … somehow made things better.
For the moment, thoughts of McCabe and his death — accident or not — receded with that memory.
She had stepped into a very different kind of story.
And she knew — now — of only one way to shake it off.
She got into her Rav-4, slid her finger to unlock her phone’s screen and access recent calls.
She pressed one, then put the phone up to her ear.
Jack answered on the first ring.
“Hi Jack … I’m leaving Winter’s place now. Fancy meeting up at Huffington’s for an update?”
She wanted, no, needed that normalcy of Jack after the storm inside the house.
His answer … as expected.
“You bet.”
“Be there in fifteen,” she said.
And then she started her car and slowly took the circle driveway back to the path that lead to the gate, now opening on approach … as she drove away from the world of Charlie Winters and his family.
*
“Tough stuff to be in the middle of. Other people’s problems, struggles.”
Jack had insisted that they
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