Read Online Gone (Parallel Trilogy, Book 1) by Christine Kersey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Kersey
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then past Rochelle’s. When I was between two houses, I tried to act casual as I walked to the sidewalk and then across the street near Rochelle’s house. Next, I backtracked until I was nearly to Rochelle’s house. Still fearing Mrs. Donaldson’s prying eyes, I cut across the lawn and hurried to Rochelle’s darkened porch.
Once there, I felt safe. Her porch couldn’t be seen from Mrs. Donaldson’s house. Of course there were other neighbor’s, but none of them had questioned me earlier and as long as they hadn’t seen me creeping along, they wouldn’t think anything of it.
Now that I was here I needed to find a way in. First, I lifted the mat and looked underneath, hoping to find a key. Nothing. Then I lifted all the pots and felt inside them, but only found dirt. I began to wonder if this latest idea was such a good one.
Deciding to take my chances, plus not having any other ideas, I stepped off of the front porch and toward the back gate. I hoped my luck would hold and Mrs. Donaldson wouldn’t see me, but I had to find a way into Rochelle’s house. The idea of spending the night outside, completely exposed to any danger that might stumble upon me, plus the even greater need of getting to a computer, pushed me forward.
I hurried to the gate, hoping to slip back there unnoticed. I pulled the string, pushed open the gate, then closed it behind me as quietly as I could. Earlier I hadn’t ventured past the garbage cans, so I didn’t know what I would find back here. It was difficult to see much of anything in the dark, but I was able to make my way to a back patio. I could see a table with four chairs, a few planters filled with flowers, a pair of French doors that led into the house, a barbeque grill pressed against the wall, and several large rocks lining the patio.
First I checked under and in the planters but came up empty. Then I began lifting the stones. Some were real, others had built-in speakers. One was lightweight, meaning it was fake, but had no speaker. I turned it over in my hands but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I closed my eyes (I couldn’t see very well anyway, in the dim light), and let my fingers do the work. A hopeful smile spread across my mouth as I felt something loosen.
I opened my eyes and strained to see, but had to rely on my sense of touch to pry open a bottom compartment. Something fell out and bounced off of my foot. I reached down and picked up the object that had fallen.
A key.
Chapter Seven
Eager to get inside, I slid the key into the lock on the French door. It turned smoothly and I heard the comforting sound of the deadbolt disengaging. I pushed the door open, rattling the mini-blinds that hung on the door. Then it occurred to me that the Candee’s could have an alarm. I paused and held my breath. No shrieking alarm broke the silence. Relieved, I stepped into the room, then closed and locked the door behind me.
The warmth of the room felt like a blanket wrapping around me. I tried to see into the room, but it was too dark. I didn’t want to turn on any lights in case Mrs. Donaldson saw them, so I stumbled forward into what seemed to be a family room. Carefully stepping forward, I ran right into a table.
“Ow!” I cried out before slapping my hand over my mouth. The corner of the table had jabbed right into my hip. I rubbed the spot, knowing I would end up with a bruise. Using my hands to feel my way, I moved around the table, which was too small to be anything but an end table, and touched the arm of a couch.
At least there were no spider webs or mouse droppings like I’d experienced so recently. Then again, I didn’t want to make a habit of having to find my way in the dark in unknown places.
Lifting my hands from the arm of the couch, I moved around the front of it until I found the cushion, then took off my jacket and set it in the corner of the couch. I sank into the softness of the cushions and
Once there, I felt safe. Her porch couldn’t be seen from Mrs. Donaldson’s house. Of course there were other neighbor’s, but none of them had questioned me earlier and as long as they hadn’t seen me creeping along, they wouldn’t think anything of it.
Now that I was here I needed to find a way in. First, I lifted the mat and looked underneath, hoping to find a key. Nothing. Then I lifted all the pots and felt inside them, but only found dirt. I began to wonder if this latest idea was such a good one.
Deciding to take my chances, plus not having any other ideas, I stepped off of the front porch and toward the back gate. I hoped my luck would hold and Mrs. Donaldson wouldn’t see me, but I had to find a way into Rochelle’s house. The idea of spending the night outside, completely exposed to any danger that might stumble upon me, plus the even greater need of getting to a computer, pushed me forward.
I hurried to the gate, hoping to slip back there unnoticed. I pulled the string, pushed open the gate, then closed it behind me as quietly as I could. Earlier I hadn’t ventured past the garbage cans, so I didn’t know what I would find back here. It was difficult to see much of anything in the dark, but I was able to make my way to a back patio. I could see a table with four chairs, a few planters filled with flowers, a pair of French doors that led into the house, a barbeque grill pressed against the wall, and several large rocks lining the patio.
First I checked under and in the planters but came up empty. Then I began lifting the stones. Some were real, others had built-in speakers. One was lightweight, meaning it was fake, but had no speaker. I turned it over in my hands but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I closed my eyes (I couldn’t see very well anyway, in the dim light), and let my fingers do the work. A hopeful smile spread across my mouth as I felt something loosen.
I opened my eyes and strained to see, but had to rely on my sense of touch to pry open a bottom compartment. Something fell out and bounced off of my foot. I reached down and picked up the object that had fallen.
A key.
Chapter Seven
Eager to get inside, I slid the key into the lock on the French door. It turned smoothly and I heard the comforting sound of the deadbolt disengaging. I pushed the door open, rattling the mini-blinds that hung on the door. Then it occurred to me that the Candee’s could have an alarm. I paused and held my breath. No shrieking alarm broke the silence. Relieved, I stepped into the room, then closed and locked the door behind me.
The warmth of the room felt like a blanket wrapping around me. I tried to see into the room, but it was too dark. I didn’t want to turn on any lights in case Mrs. Donaldson saw them, so I stumbled forward into what seemed to be a family room. Carefully stepping forward, I ran right into a table.
“Ow!” I cried out before slapping my hand over my mouth. The corner of the table had jabbed right into my hip. I rubbed the spot, knowing I would end up with a bruise. Using my hands to feel my way, I moved around the table, which was too small to be anything but an end table, and touched the arm of a couch.
At least there were no spider webs or mouse droppings like I’d experienced so recently. Then again, I didn’t want to make a habit of having to find my way in the dark in unknown places.
Lifting my hands from the arm of the couch, I moved around the front of it until I found the cushion, then took off my jacket and set it in the corner of the couch. I sank into the softness of the cushions and
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