Read Online In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) by A.W. Hartoin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: A.W. Hartoin
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that was what he was going for,” I said. “I’ll pay and be right out.”
“I took care of it,” said Terrance.
He led me out of the little store with eyes darting every which way and he needn’t have bothered. The only vehicle in sight was a beat-up Dodge Caravan with Illinois plates at the lone gas pump. It was filled with kids and the back door was up. The trunk was stuffed with battered luggage that made Great Uncle Ned’s look good. At least they got to travel. There were battered old stickers from England and France and a brand new one from Ecuador along with some airline tags that they hadn’t bothered to take off. Cherie glanced at me and pumped the gas while Anthony stared into the thick forest across the road. His sweatshirt hung on him. It’d been washed from black to mottled grey and the emblem for Lion’s Baseball was peeling off. His face, much older than Cherie’s, wasn’t just tired. Sorrow filled every line and crevasse. He wavered on his feet as if he could barely stand under the weight of it.
In contrast, a couple of cheerful teenaged boys were next the van. They were tall, well-muscled and in boxing stances, giving each other jabs to the chest and laughing when they connected. The side door of the van rattled open and a pretty girl about sixteen leaned out and said, “Knock it off. You’re so stupid.”
“What do you care, Laniac?” said the boy with dark hair and an easy smile.
“I care because you’re an idiot and I’ve been stuck in this van with you for hours. I didn’t even want to come on your stupid thing.”
Anthony turned around and his face lit up when he looked at the kids. “Taylor, stop calling Lane that. You know she doesn’t like it.”
“You get it, right?” said Taylor. “Laniac. Maniac.”
“Yes, I get it. Just get in and leave her alone. It’s been a long drive.”
Taylor punched the other boy again and jumped in, knocking into Lane and making her squeal in protest. The other boy, a blond with short spiky hair, saw me and watched as Terrance opened the back door of the limo. I got in with the cousins and then watched the boy get in the van and pop open a Mountain Dew. Yuck.
“Where’s my beer?” bellowed Uncle Morty when I gave him the stinking burrito bag.
“In the store. You gonna do something about it?” I asked.
He grumbled and peeled open a hideous, greasy burrito and took a slow bite, but he didn’t make a move to get out for beer. From the look of it, those burritos were going to last until Cairngorms Castle. A half hour was way too long to spend with them or him.
The Cairngorms Castle gates were grand to the extreme, twenty feet high and done in ornate ironwork. They were also electrified. There was a discreet sign warning of high voltage like they didn’t really want you to know and they’d be very pleased if you fried yourself.
I got a good look at the gate and the concertina wire on the top of the high stone walls on either side because my head was out the window. Uncle Morty started gassing ten minutes after the first burrito. I really should’ve known better. Mom had banned him from ever eating Mexican food in her presence.
Terrance glanced back at me as he pushed the button on the little metal box next to the drive. “Get back inside.”
Before I could answer, a tinny voice came out of the box, “State your name and business at Cairngorms Castle.”
Terrance told the box who we were.
“Press your right thumb to the pad.”
He did and there was a sharp beep before the voice said, “Welcome to Cairngorms Castle, Watts family. Proceed to the castle and prepare to be searched.”
The gate made a clacking noise and I had a flashback to Hunt Hospital for the Criminally Insane. At least they had a reason for their gates. What was the castle keeping in or out? Maybe somebody was a little paranoid, but I got why Dad thought I’d be safe here.
Terrance yelled at me again
“I took care of it,” said Terrance.
He led me out of the little store with eyes darting every which way and he needn’t have bothered. The only vehicle in sight was a beat-up Dodge Caravan with Illinois plates at the lone gas pump. It was filled with kids and the back door was up. The trunk was stuffed with battered luggage that made Great Uncle Ned’s look good. At least they got to travel. There were battered old stickers from England and France and a brand new one from Ecuador along with some airline tags that they hadn’t bothered to take off. Cherie glanced at me and pumped the gas while Anthony stared into the thick forest across the road. His sweatshirt hung on him. It’d been washed from black to mottled grey and the emblem for Lion’s Baseball was peeling off. His face, much older than Cherie’s, wasn’t just tired. Sorrow filled every line and crevasse. He wavered on his feet as if he could barely stand under the weight of it.
In contrast, a couple of cheerful teenaged boys were next the van. They were tall, well-muscled and in boxing stances, giving each other jabs to the chest and laughing when they connected. The side door of the van rattled open and a pretty girl about sixteen leaned out and said, “Knock it off. You’re so stupid.”
“What do you care, Laniac?” said the boy with dark hair and an easy smile.
“I care because you’re an idiot and I’ve been stuck in this van with you for hours. I didn’t even want to come on your stupid thing.”
Anthony turned around and his face lit up when he looked at the kids. “Taylor, stop calling Lane that. You know she doesn’t like it.”
“You get it, right?” said Taylor. “Laniac. Maniac.”
“Yes, I get it. Just get in and leave her alone. It’s been a long drive.”
Taylor punched the other boy again and jumped in, knocking into Lane and making her squeal in protest. The other boy, a blond with short spiky hair, saw me and watched as Terrance opened the back door of the limo. I got in with the cousins and then watched the boy get in the van and pop open a Mountain Dew. Yuck.
“Where’s my beer?” bellowed Uncle Morty when I gave him the stinking burrito bag.
“In the store. You gonna do something about it?” I asked.
He grumbled and peeled open a hideous, greasy burrito and took a slow bite, but he didn’t make a move to get out for beer. From the look of it, those burritos were going to last until Cairngorms Castle. A half hour was way too long to spend with them or him.
The Cairngorms Castle gates were grand to the extreme, twenty feet high and done in ornate ironwork. They were also electrified. There was a discreet sign warning of high voltage like they didn’t really want you to know and they’d be very pleased if you fried yourself.
I got a good look at the gate and the concertina wire on the top of the high stone walls on either side because my head was out the window. Uncle Morty started gassing ten minutes after the first burrito. I really should’ve known better. Mom had banned him from ever eating Mexican food in her presence.
Terrance glanced back at me as he pushed the button on the little metal box next to the drive. “Get back inside.”
Before I could answer, a tinny voice came out of the box, “State your name and business at Cairngorms Castle.”
Terrance told the box who we were.
“Press your right thumb to the pad.”
He did and there was a sharp beep before the voice said, “Welcome to Cairngorms Castle, Watts family. Proceed to the castle and prepare to be searched.”
The gate made a clacking noise and I had a flashback to Hunt Hospital for the Criminally Insane. At least they had a reason for their gates. What was the castle keeping in or out? Maybe somebody was a little paranoid, but I got why Dad thought I’d be safe here.
Terrance yelled at me again
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