Read Online Dark Road by David C. Waldron - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David C. Waldron
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candlelight and wondered aloud, “How hard must it have been for the Taylors, Eric and Karen, and Sheri?”
“Truth?” Marissa asked.
“Truth.”
“Murder. I wouldn’t have wanted to leave,” Marissa laughed mirthlessly. “Obviously…we’re still here even now.”
“So, let’s limit the open windows to the back of the house.” Dan said.
“Agreed, and we lock the doors.”
Dan smiled. “Obviously.”
…
At 2:00 am, when any sane person should have been dead-to-the-world asleep, Carey was prowling around his house. It had been a hot day, which had led to a hot night. It was humid and he was sticky and grumpy. Now he couldn’t go back to sleep. “Should’a moved everyone downstairs like the Clarks,” he said under his breath, trying not to wake up his wife and daughter.
It was while he was roving around the house that he happened to look out the window and see, just barely, two shadows cross the street a couple of houses down…about where Eric Tripp used to live.
“Now what in the,” Carey stopped himself before he swore. He’d been finding it more and more difficult to do that recently, and being a good Christian man he knew that ‘Thoughts led to Words led to Actions.’ He was going to nip it in the bud at thoughts. He crouched down into the shadows of his own house and kept looking out the window in hopes of catching another glimpse. He didn’t dare go outside, as the last thing he wanted to do was scare off whoever was sneaking around in the dark, at least not yet.
His patience was rewarded when the pair of shadows emerged from around the corner of the Taylor’s old place. The last time he’d been in there, after Dan had found the sleeping bags in the attic, he’d locked the back door for some reason. He hadn’t known why he did it, he just had. Turned out that luck may have been on his side; it looked like whoever this was had tried the back door first and was going to have to come in the front door instead.
Then he recognized them. He wasn’t sure if it was the taller one’s build or the length of the woman’s hair—it was obviously a woman—but he was sure it was Dan and Marissa Clark. “Now isn’t that interesting,” Carey said to himself, and made a quick decision.
…
“I swear the back door was unlocked the last time I was here,” Dan said.
“It’s fine, let’s just get inside and get back home. And quit talking, sound carries.” Marissa said.
The front door was still unlocked and that was a good thing. If the door had been locked Dan wasn’t sure what he would have done. Probably knocked out a window and gone inside anyway. His nerves were shot from sneaking the block-and-a-half over here.
Once inside, Dan showed Marissa the postcards on the corkboard in what used to be the kitchen. Marissa looked at them for about half a minute and then turned to Dan. “I’m willing to bet they went to Natchez Trace,” she said.
“How in the world can you say that?” He asked.
“A couple of reasons. One, it’s the closest one and without refueling they couldn’t have made it to any of the other parks in what they were driving—none of them could. Two, if you look at them, these are from old trips; they weren’t originally on this board. See the tape on the corners of these two? They came from a photo album or scrapbook. One of them was even sent to them from someone else, ‘To: Aunt Rachael and Uncle Joel’. Three, Natchez Trace is pinned on top of all the others. Every other postcard has at least one corner or piece of the postcard under another card, but the one for Natchez Trace is completely on top. It’s not totally obvious the way they are arranged, but everything together says this was left for someone to find and tell them where they went.”
“You really are better at this than I am,” Dan said for what felt like the thousandth time in the last week.
“And I’m still trying to make up for you getting into the gun safe. Let’s go.”
They
“Truth?” Marissa asked.
“Truth.”
“Murder. I wouldn’t have wanted to leave,” Marissa laughed mirthlessly. “Obviously…we’re still here even now.”
“So, let’s limit the open windows to the back of the house.” Dan said.
“Agreed, and we lock the doors.”
Dan smiled. “Obviously.”
…
At 2:00 am, when any sane person should have been dead-to-the-world asleep, Carey was prowling around his house. It had been a hot day, which had led to a hot night. It was humid and he was sticky and grumpy. Now he couldn’t go back to sleep. “Should’a moved everyone downstairs like the Clarks,” he said under his breath, trying not to wake up his wife and daughter.
It was while he was roving around the house that he happened to look out the window and see, just barely, two shadows cross the street a couple of houses down…about where Eric Tripp used to live.
“Now what in the,” Carey stopped himself before he swore. He’d been finding it more and more difficult to do that recently, and being a good Christian man he knew that ‘Thoughts led to Words led to Actions.’ He was going to nip it in the bud at thoughts. He crouched down into the shadows of his own house and kept looking out the window in hopes of catching another glimpse. He didn’t dare go outside, as the last thing he wanted to do was scare off whoever was sneaking around in the dark, at least not yet.
His patience was rewarded when the pair of shadows emerged from around the corner of the Taylor’s old place. The last time he’d been in there, after Dan had found the sleeping bags in the attic, he’d locked the back door for some reason. He hadn’t known why he did it, he just had. Turned out that luck may have been on his side; it looked like whoever this was had tried the back door first and was going to have to come in the front door instead.
Then he recognized them. He wasn’t sure if it was the taller one’s build or the length of the woman’s hair—it was obviously a woman—but he was sure it was Dan and Marissa Clark. “Now isn’t that interesting,” Carey said to himself, and made a quick decision.
…
“I swear the back door was unlocked the last time I was here,” Dan said.
“It’s fine, let’s just get inside and get back home. And quit talking, sound carries.” Marissa said.
The front door was still unlocked and that was a good thing. If the door had been locked Dan wasn’t sure what he would have done. Probably knocked out a window and gone inside anyway. His nerves were shot from sneaking the block-and-a-half over here.
Once inside, Dan showed Marissa the postcards on the corkboard in what used to be the kitchen. Marissa looked at them for about half a minute and then turned to Dan. “I’m willing to bet they went to Natchez Trace,” she said.
“How in the world can you say that?” He asked.
“A couple of reasons. One, it’s the closest one and without refueling they couldn’t have made it to any of the other parks in what they were driving—none of them could. Two, if you look at them, these are from old trips; they weren’t originally on this board. See the tape on the corners of these two? They came from a photo album or scrapbook. One of them was even sent to them from someone else, ‘To: Aunt Rachael and Uncle Joel’. Three, Natchez Trace is pinned on top of all the others. Every other postcard has at least one corner or piece of the postcard under another card, but the one for Natchez Trace is completely on top. It’s not totally obvious the way they are arranged, but everything together says this was left for someone to find and tell them where they went.”
“You really are better at this than I am,” Dan said for what felt like the thousandth time in the last week.
“And I’m still trying to make up for you getting into the gun safe. Let’s go.”
They
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