Read Online Home to Whiskey Creek by Brenda Novak - Free Book Online

dry she could hardly speak. “He didn’t rape me.” But she could clearly remember the time before, when he had....
    “So you were awakened in your bed and then what? Let’s go over it detail by detail.”
    She cleared her throat. “He whispered that he’d hurt me and Gran if I screamed. Then he tied my hands, blindfolded me and forced me to walk out to his truck or SUV.”
    “You’re sure it was a truck or SUV.”
    “By the sound of the engine and how high off the ground it was...yes.” That was true, but she hardly saw it as revealing. Practically everyone in these parts owned a truck.
    “Did you get the color, or the make and model?”
    “No. The blindfold was too tight.” And when she’d tried to remove it, he’d panicked and struck her. That was the first time he’d hit her, but it wasn’t the most painful, just a glancing blow on the cheek.
    “What about before the blindfold? Were you able to see him or any part of him?”
    She wished she could tell the police chief to forget about the incident, but she knew that would only make him wonder at her reaction. She had to act as if she wanted her kidnapper caught. “Just that first glimpse.”
    “And...”
    She swallowed. “I’m afraid I can’t give you a description. It was so dark, and he was wearing a ski mask.”
    Stacy frowned as he formulated another question. “Did he have any exposed skin? Any tattoos or birthmarks?”
    “He was completely covered.”
    “What was he wearing?”
    “Black pants and a black sweatshirt.” That much was true, but the sweatshirt had a strange logo on it, a bright yellow logo with a website URL that was easy to remember. Thanks to the light of a full moon streaming through that screen door, she’d spotted www.SkintightEntertainment.com before he’d managed to blindfold her. But she was giving Stacy only generic information, information she felt safe providing. As far as she knew, that URL could be connected to where the culprit worked, could lead police right to him.
    “Were his clothes particularly expensive or cheap?” Stacy asked. “I mean—” he leaned forward, beseeching her with his body language “—did you notice anything that might help identify him? What kind of guy was this? ”
    A guy who wore a brand of cologne she normally would’ve liked. She remembered that, too—but it was another detail she planned to keep to herself. “They were just your basic cargo pants and a plain sweatshirt. They could’ve come from any department store.”
    He put his coffee down again so he could make a few notes. “Can you tell me how tall he was?”
    She’d known instantly what the encounter was about, which had evoked immediate terror. And the abduction happened so fast. She doubted she could answer all of Chief Stacy’s questions even if she really wanted the man apprehended.
    “About my height.” She had no idea if that was true. He could’ve been an inch or two taller, or an inch or two shorter, but six feet sounded average. She was embellishing, changing this or that, describing a person who didn’t exist, so what did it matter?
    “And his build?”
    This time she didn’t have to make anything up. The truth described a large proportion of the male population, so she could speak honestly. “He was...fairly muscular, I guess. But not overly so.”
    “Can you guess at his weight?”
    She went for what would be likely, given the height and body build she’d stated. “About two hundred. I can’t recall, to be honest.”
    Stacy took another bite of cake. “What about age?”
    “Middle-aged?” She certainly didn’t want to say close to her age, which was what she believed. Anyway, age wasn’t easy to determine in a situation like that.
    “Did he speak with a lisp or an accent or...use foul language? Was there anything distinctive about his voice?”
    Her kidnapper had spoken in a hoarse whisper. That hadn’t evoked the memory of any particular boy, but it had brought back what she’d