Read Online Dark Water: A Siren Novel by Tricia Rayburn - Free Book Online
Authors: Tricia Rayburn
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getting to know all the pretty girls in town. It’s, like, our thing.”
“That’s nice.” Now I wasn’t sure whether to be scared orrelieved. They were being rather aggressive, while most guys were stunned into shyness unless encouraged to interact. Maybe they really were like this with all girls. Maybe it had nothing to do with the fact that I was nothing like all girls.
“Know something?” the first guy said. “It was a long day. I’m pretty hungry … and could go for something sweet.”
It didn’t matter what their motivation was. The last word was spoken near my ear. Fear won.
“I changed my mind!” I backed up, toward the store entrance. “Thanks anyway!”
Outside, I forced my feet to walk, not run, the short distance to the car. I glanced at the store as I climbed in and saw the two guys talking to the cashier, who’d returned to the register. She was older, so they probably weren’t interested in her the same way they’d been in me. And if they still tried to stir up trouble, she was surrounded by pocketknives, screwdrivers, and other tools. Certain she could ward off unwanted attention if necessary, I felt only a mild pang of guilt as I started the car and hit the gas.
Eddie’s Ice Cream was nearby. Deciding I might as well pick up dessert so that I had something to show for the trip to town, I drove there and bought three sundaes and as many gallons as I could carry. Though I hadn’t directly caused last summer’s storms I still felt partially responsible, which made me partially responsible for this summer’s slow business. The least I could do was help Eddie move his inventory.
Back in the car, I took back roads to avoid passing the hardwarestore on my way home. I’d just turned down a narrow residential street when headlights appeared behind me, in the distance. My pulse quickened then slowed again as the car, an old orange pickup, turned down another road and disappeared.
I put on the radio for distraction. Reached for my purse in the passenger seat, found my cell phone, and placed it in the cup holder. Grabbed a handful of pretzels from the emergency bag in the middle console and washed it down with the bottle of salt water I’d brought for the ride.
I was about to check my phone for messages when the orange pickup skidded to a stop at the next cross street. My foot came off the gas and the SUV slowed. I waited for the truck to turn out ahead of me, but it stayed there, engine grumbling.
It’s okay … they’re just lost … they probably want to drive down this way but the street’s so narrow, they need you to pass first.…
I pressed the gas. The sun had set by now but as I neared the truck, it was still light enough to make out the fishing rods hanging out the back, the brim of a baseball hat inside the cab. I slid down in my seat, rested one elbow by the window, and tried to hide my face with my hand. I looked straight ahead as I passed.
The truck didn’t move.
I held my breath as I continued driving, watched the rusty hood grow smaller in the rearview mirror. By the time I reached the stop sign at the end of the street, I couldn’t see it anymore.
Exhaling, I turned left, toward the ocean.
Behind me, headlights appeared.
They came closer, grew brighter. I sped up but that only made them do the same. I went faster. The speedometer needle inched toward forty. Forty-five. Fifty. The speed limit was twenty in town and strictly enforced, but I didn’t care.
Neither, it seemed, did the young fishermen.
Reaching the next T intersection, I veered left without stopping. The SUV flew up and around curves that the old truck had a harder time maneuvering. I relaxed slightly, confident that at this rate, I’d be home with the iron gate closed behind me before the truck caught up … but then I realized what that meant.
They’d know where I lived. Even if they were too far back to see which driveway I pulled into, they’d still have a pretty good idea. This
“That’s nice.” Now I wasn’t sure whether to be scared orrelieved. They were being rather aggressive, while most guys were stunned into shyness unless encouraged to interact. Maybe they really were like this with all girls. Maybe it had nothing to do with the fact that I was nothing like all girls.
“Know something?” the first guy said. “It was a long day. I’m pretty hungry … and could go for something sweet.”
It didn’t matter what their motivation was. The last word was spoken near my ear. Fear won.
“I changed my mind!” I backed up, toward the store entrance. “Thanks anyway!”
Outside, I forced my feet to walk, not run, the short distance to the car. I glanced at the store as I climbed in and saw the two guys talking to the cashier, who’d returned to the register. She was older, so they probably weren’t interested in her the same way they’d been in me. And if they still tried to stir up trouble, she was surrounded by pocketknives, screwdrivers, and other tools. Certain she could ward off unwanted attention if necessary, I felt only a mild pang of guilt as I started the car and hit the gas.
Eddie’s Ice Cream was nearby. Deciding I might as well pick up dessert so that I had something to show for the trip to town, I drove there and bought three sundaes and as many gallons as I could carry. Though I hadn’t directly caused last summer’s storms I still felt partially responsible, which made me partially responsible for this summer’s slow business. The least I could do was help Eddie move his inventory.
Back in the car, I took back roads to avoid passing the hardwarestore on my way home. I’d just turned down a narrow residential street when headlights appeared behind me, in the distance. My pulse quickened then slowed again as the car, an old orange pickup, turned down another road and disappeared.
I put on the radio for distraction. Reached for my purse in the passenger seat, found my cell phone, and placed it in the cup holder. Grabbed a handful of pretzels from the emergency bag in the middle console and washed it down with the bottle of salt water I’d brought for the ride.
I was about to check my phone for messages when the orange pickup skidded to a stop at the next cross street. My foot came off the gas and the SUV slowed. I waited for the truck to turn out ahead of me, but it stayed there, engine grumbling.
It’s okay … they’re just lost … they probably want to drive down this way but the street’s so narrow, they need you to pass first.…
I pressed the gas. The sun had set by now but as I neared the truck, it was still light enough to make out the fishing rods hanging out the back, the brim of a baseball hat inside the cab. I slid down in my seat, rested one elbow by the window, and tried to hide my face with my hand. I looked straight ahead as I passed.
The truck didn’t move.
I held my breath as I continued driving, watched the rusty hood grow smaller in the rearview mirror. By the time I reached the stop sign at the end of the street, I couldn’t see it anymore.
Exhaling, I turned left, toward the ocean.
Behind me, headlights appeared.
They came closer, grew brighter. I sped up but that only made them do the same. I went faster. The speedometer needle inched toward forty. Forty-five. Fifty. The speed limit was twenty in town and strictly enforced, but I didn’t care.
Neither, it seemed, did the young fishermen.
Reaching the next T intersection, I veered left without stopping. The SUV flew up and around curves that the old truck had a harder time maneuvering. I relaxed slightly, confident that at this rate, I’d be home with the iron gate closed behind me before the truck caught up … but then I realized what that meant.
They’d know where I lived. Even if they were too far back to see which driveway I pulled into, they’d still have a pretty good idea. This
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