Read Online Family Murders: A Thriller by Henry Carver - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Henry Carver
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But she had also surprised herself. She had figured out the danger to their child, figured out just how sick the man stalking their family was, and she had overcome her fear and survived. Julie was safe, the house was secure. It was only a stopgap until they could figure out what to do, but as stopgaps went she was proud of it.
She was proud of herself, and surprised at how her thoughts of Ted had diminished over the past three days. Looking down at him, she thought she would feel relief. Instead she felt…comfortable. She was comfortable now with the idea of confronting Eric Fallows alone. She would do it head-on if she had to.
Let Ted sleep. There was so much to tell him, and she doubted he would believe half of it. She also doubted her ability to unify the events of the past few days into a cohesive story, one that would make sense to him as it now made sense to her. She needed him to understand the important part: there is a monster out there, one with a penchant for young girls, and he is fixated on our daughter.
Let him sleep, and she would spend some time thinking about how to explain it all, thinking about what to do. Stepping up had given her authority, but a sense of responsibility came along with it. Ted would be thunderstruck, paralyzed. She had to be ready with their next move.
She decided to go for a hard run, across the rough terrain on the path behind her house. It was hilly, and the lull of the ups and downs, the mental energy of controlling her breathing, always freed up a part of her mind she couldn't otherwise access. Perversely, these past few days had made finding it easier. She needed that clarity now more than ever.
Ted was here, Julie was safe, and the bright still air that came only before a storm beckoned to her. There would never be a better time.
And for protection, well, nothing fazed her as long as she had Rocky.
Downstairs in the kitchen she found a note:
"Bet I'm asleep right now. Came home on the red eye hoping to beat the storm. It worked! See you soon. Love, Ted."
Angela pulled open the sliding glass door, stepped out on the deck, whistled for Rocky, and carefully locked the door behind him. She bent over and tied the key into a shoe lace.
"Come on, boy." She started walking. Warm-ups usually lasted five minutes, but today she felt loose and ready. Today she couldn't wait. Before she hit the edge of the yard, she was running.
The trail started out flat. It was slick and colorful with the reds and oranges of damp and fallen leaves. After perhaps a quarter of a mile the hills started, small at first, bigger later. The entire area behind the house was owned by the city, but undeveloped. It extended for a few miles and then, at some invisible line, became state forest. The trees behind her house went on farther than she could ever hope to walk. She knew she should be scared to be out here, even with Rocky, but this was her territory. Besides, she had never met anyone who could keep up with her cross-country on terrain like this. Angela didn't know where it came from, but it had always been like that for her—when she wanted to, she could really fly.
Right then she kept it slow and steady, searching for that hypnotic pace. Rocky lumbered along next to her, tongue out, occasionally shooting out left or right in an attempt to corral unseen animals. At the most distant part of her usual run, the trail came around a corner and made a straight, level two-hundred-yard run just below the lip of a plateau. The path had been artificially cut level into a grade that was too steep to walk on. The result was a vertical dirt and clay wall on one side of the trail and a steep drop off into some tree tops on the other.
Coming around the corner, running along the straight-away with dry leaves curling up into the air in her wake, Angela felt better than she had in a long time. She laughed out loud. A few yards ahead of her, Rocky barked in return. Then the bark turned into that low rumble and Rocky
She was proud of herself, and surprised at how her thoughts of Ted had diminished over the past three days. Looking down at him, she thought she would feel relief. Instead she felt…comfortable. She was comfortable now with the idea of confronting Eric Fallows alone. She would do it head-on if she had to.
Let Ted sleep. There was so much to tell him, and she doubted he would believe half of it. She also doubted her ability to unify the events of the past few days into a cohesive story, one that would make sense to him as it now made sense to her. She needed him to understand the important part: there is a monster out there, one with a penchant for young girls, and he is fixated on our daughter.
Let him sleep, and she would spend some time thinking about how to explain it all, thinking about what to do. Stepping up had given her authority, but a sense of responsibility came along with it. Ted would be thunderstruck, paralyzed. She had to be ready with their next move.
She decided to go for a hard run, across the rough terrain on the path behind her house. It was hilly, and the lull of the ups and downs, the mental energy of controlling her breathing, always freed up a part of her mind she couldn't otherwise access. Perversely, these past few days had made finding it easier. She needed that clarity now more than ever.
Ted was here, Julie was safe, and the bright still air that came only before a storm beckoned to her. There would never be a better time.
And for protection, well, nothing fazed her as long as she had Rocky.
Downstairs in the kitchen she found a note:
"Bet I'm asleep right now. Came home on the red eye hoping to beat the storm. It worked! See you soon. Love, Ted."
Angela pulled open the sliding glass door, stepped out on the deck, whistled for Rocky, and carefully locked the door behind him. She bent over and tied the key into a shoe lace.
"Come on, boy." She started walking. Warm-ups usually lasted five minutes, but today she felt loose and ready. Today she couldn't wait. Before she hit the edge of the yard, she was running.
The trail started out flat. It was slick and colorful with the reds and oranges of damp and fallen leaves. After perhaps a quarter of a mile the hills started, small at first, bigger later. The entire area behind the house was owned by the city, but undeveloped. It extended for a few miles and then, at some invisible line, became state forest. The trees behind her house went on farther than she could ever hope to walk. She knew she should be scared to be out here, even with Rocky, but this was her territory. Besides, she had never met anyone who could keep up with her cross-country on terrain like this. Angela didn't know where it came from, but it had always been like that for her—when she wanted to, she could really fly.
Right then she kept it slow and steady, searching for that hypnotic pace. Rocky lumbered along next to her, tongue out, occasionally shooting out left or right in an attempt to corral unseen animals. At the most distant part of her usual run, the trail came around a corner and made a straight, level two-hundred-yard run just below the lip of a plateau. The path had been artificially cut level into a grade that was too steep to walk on. The result was a vertical dirt and clay wall on one side of the trail and a steep drop off into some tree tops on the other.
Coming around the corner, running along the straight-away with dry leaves curling up into the air in her wake, Angela felt better than she had in a long time. She laughed out loud. A few yards ahead of her, Rocky barked in return. Then the bark turned into that low rumble and Rocky
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