Read Online Deadly Violet - 04 by Tony Richards - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tony Richards
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happen, Benjy,” she assured him.
But then she reminded herself which town she was living in. The vast number of things that shouldn’t happen, which had happened in the past.
When you lived in a place like Raine’s Landing, you kept yourself in a state of denial ninety percent of the time. You simply got on with your daily business, trying to convince yourself that everything was perfectly okay. And on those occasions when something really bad came out, you dealt with it as best you could and then moved on.
How else was anyone supposed to live … in constant fear and apprehension? You would go insane that way. But really bad stuff did come along from time to time. If she had to admit it, more and more frequently these days. Why, a mere couple of months ago, she and her whole family had been virtually refugees, living on a bench on Union Square, besieged by hominids.
Things had calmed down a great deal since then. And after that experience, it took an awful lot to spook her badly. But if she was going to approach this sensibly, she really ought to check out what her son believed that he had seen.
Damn and blast it. She hated the cold. And she was still in her bathrobe and slippers. But she got her overcoat and pulled it on, and then exchanged her house shoes for a pair of fleece-lined, zip-up boots.
Benjy followed her to the front door nervously, ducking back behind her every time he thought he heard a noise. Man, but he was genuinely scared. She opened up, shivering as a blast of freezing air came sucking in.
“Where exactly did it happen?”
Benjy pointed. “There.”
“Right in front of our house?”
“Yup.”
Jordan felt a sigh trying to force its way out, but she held it in.
She practically slipped over, the first step she took. Steadied herself, one hand against the jamb, then grimaced and continued. Her footing was still unsteady. She teetered along, the icy breeze making the bare parts of her legs prickle and burn. If this was a game, if she’d been made the victim of some silly, childish prank …
She tried looking around at Benjy, to gauge his expression. But she practically went down again, when she tried that. And so she forgot that, and waddled as far as the sidewalk, horribly aware that she was walking like a duck.
There was nothing. Just the fading footprints she’d seen from her living room. A few dead leaves went skirling by, practically jet-black by this time of the year. She could hear a snow plough working several blocks away, but could not see it.
But she noticed something else and stiffened, then went on a few more paces, stepping gingerly off the curb.
There was a brand-new set of tire tracks that the fine snow hadn’t had the time to cover yet. They were so fresh that you could make out every detail of their tread. They looked as if they’d only been made a couple of minutes back. And they were headed for the Partington house.
But they drew level with her front yard, and stopped.
There was no slightest evidence that the vehicle that had made them had turned back around or veered away. The tracks simply … gave out.
She peered around, and couldn’t see Jerry’s Volvo anywhere. So how did that make any sense?
“Robbie!”
Ellen Kutch put sunflower seeds and flaked maize on the bird table in her backyard, and then added some high protein pellets that she’d bought at a local pet store. She had already broken the ice on the birdbath and added some hot water to keep it unfrozen for a while.
“Robbie?”
She pursed her lips and let out a high-pitched whistle, her way of telling her feathered little friend there was a meal here waiting for him. Ellen worked at an accountancy firm off Union Square, and had been promoted several times in as many years, doing so well for herself that – single and barely thirty – she had recently bought a medium-sized two-story house at the foot of Sycamore Hill.
And it wasn’t merely the classy location she enjoyed. She’d only
But then she reminded herself which town she was living in. The vast number of things that shouldn’t happen, which had happened in the past.
When you lived in a place like Raine’s Landing, you kept yourself in a state of denial ninety percent of the time. You simply got on with your daily business, trying to convince yourself that everything was perfectly okay. And on those occasions when something really bad came out, you dealt with it as best you could and then moved on.
How else was anyone supposed to live … in constant fear and apprehension? You would go insane that way. But really bad stuff did come along from time to time. If she had to admit it, more and more frequently these days. Why, a mere couple of months ago, she and her whole family had been virtually refugees, living on a bench on Union Square, besieged by hominids.
Things had calmed down a great deal since then. And after that experience, it took an awful lot to spook her badly. But if she was going to approach this sensibly, she really ought to check out what her son believed that he had seen.
Damn and blast it. She hated the cold. And she was still in her bathrobe and slippers. But she got her overcoat and pulled it on, and then exchanged her house shoes for a pair of fleece-lined, zip-up boots.
Benjy followed her to the front door nervously, ducking back behind her every time he thought he heard a noise. Man, but he was genuinely scared. She opened up, shivering as a blast of freezing air came sucking in.
“Where exactly did it happen?”
Benjy pointed. “There.”
“Right in front of our house?”
“Yup.”
Jordan felt a sigh trying to force its way out, but she held it in.
She practically slipped over, the first step she took. Steadied herself, one hand against the jamb, then grimaced and continued. Her footing was still unsteady. She teetered along, the icy breeze making the bare parts of her legs prickle and burn. If this was a game, if she’d been made the victim of some silly, childish prank …
She tried looking around at Benjy, to gauge his expression. But she practically went down again, when she tried that. And so she forgot that, and waddled as far as the sidewalk, horribly aware that she was walking like a duck.
There was nothing. Just the fading footprints she’d seen from her living room. A few dead leaves went skirling by, practically jet-black by this time of the year. She could hear a snow plough working several blocks away, but could not see it.
But she noticed something else and stiffened, then went on a few more paces, stepping gingerly off the curb.
There was a brand-new set of tire tracks that the fine snow hadn’t had the time to cover yet. They were so fresh that you could make out every detail of their tread. They looked as if they’d only been made a couple of minutes back. And they were headed for the Partington house.
But they drew level with her front yard, and stopped.
There was no slightest evidence that the vehicle that had made them had turned back around or veered away. The tracks simply … gave out.
She peered around, and couldn’t see Jerry’s Volvo anywhere. So how did that make any sense?
“Robbie!”
Ellen Kutch put sunflower seeds and flaked maize on the bird table in her backyard, and then added some high protein pellets that she’d bought at a local pet store. She had already broken the ice on the birdbath and added some hot water to keep it unfrozen for a while.
“Robbie?”
She pursed her lips and let out a high-pitched whistle, her way of telling her feathered little friend there was a meal here waiting for him. Ellen worked at an accountancy firm off Union Square, and had been promoted several times in as many years, doing so well for herself that – single and barely thirty – she had recently bought a medium-sized two-story house at the foot of Sycamore Hill.
And it wasn’t merely the classy location she enjoyed. She’d only
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