Read Online Love Gone Mad by Mark Rubinstein - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mark Rubinstein
Ads: Link
a handheld radio crepitates and breaks up. A tow truck roars up behind the Audi. It’s a huge thing, muscular-looking, if you can say that about a vehicle. A thick chain gets hooked to the undercarriage. The cops wave traffic on, but people still gawk. Adrian’s talking with the cops.
The technician hands her the clipboard. With a trembling hand, she signs the form.
The left side of her face burns—feels raw. She touches it and winces.
“It’s a slight facial abrasion from the air bag,” the paramedic says. “Use some bacitracin on it for a couple of days.”
She nods and closes her eyes.
His cologne is overwhelming; nausea swims through her. If she heaves, they’ll whisk her off to the hospital. God, I don’t want to go there . If only he’d move away from her. She needs fresh air.
The paramedic stands. Her queasiness recedes.
“Anyone you want us to call?” he says.
“My sister.” She gives him the telephone number.
He dials it, walks a few yards away, and talks into his cell. “She’ll be here in a little while,” the medic calls back to her.
Megan’s thoughts tumble and her inner voice points out the obvious: it must be Conrad. It can’t be anyone else, not a chance. There’ve been the hang-ups, the flowers, the e-mails, and now this. Run off the Post Road and almost killed.
Megan reminds herself to listen to her inner voice, the one that tells her to be very careful after what happened with Conrad. It’s the voice that whispers, Assume nothing when it comes to him … absolutely nothing .
Sitting amid police and ambulance lights, with radio static and the tow truck winch whirring, Megan watches a necklace of red taillights trailing east, passing the burned-rubber streaks on the black asphalt and eyeballing the wrecked Audi. Headlights stream west as exhaust fumes linger in the deep blueness of the heavy night air. V-shaped cones of pinkish light from vapor lamps illuminate the road.
That inner voice hisses in her ear … It’s Conrad, a brilliant madman … and you’re chin deep in a ton of trouble .
He’s back … and this time he’ll kill you .
Eight
E rin looks pale and her voice is shaky. The Audi—with its twisted hulk and shattered glass—groans as it’s hoisted onto a flatbed truck. It’s totaled, just a complete loss. A cop waves traffic on. Adrian signs some papers; then he, Megan, and Erin walk to Erin’s Subaru Forester.
“This is some way to meet,” Erin says as she and Adrian shake hands.
Adrian nods and smiles weakly. A humming sensation throttles through his chest. “There’ll be other times,” he says, noticing that Erin’s nearly as tall as Megan; she also has that Celtic look with reddish-brown hair and cerulean-blue eyes.
“The pickup just ran you off the road?” Erin asks, turning off the Post Road.
“That’s right,” Megan whispers.
After passing through a series of tree-lined streets, they pull into the driveway of a ranch-style house about a mile from the Post Road.
As they enter the house, Marlee, wearing pajamas, jumps into Megan’s arms. Megan lifts her, and the child wraps her legs around Megan. “You okay, Mommy?” Marlee whimpers. Her reddish-blond curls are in disarray; her eyes look bleary.
“Everybody’s fine, sweetie.” Megan looks pale and depleted. Marlee rests her head on Megan’s shoulder and casts a furtive glance at Adrian.
Erin’s husband, Bob, a tall, thin guy with a receding hairline, introduces himself and then examines Adrian’s head. “You’ve got quite a goose egg there,” he says.
Adrian nods and sits down on a sofa. His head is throbbing and his legs feel weak.
Marlee and her cousins, Robert and Ellie, begin playing with Sampson, a fawn-colored little pug who’s getting more excited each minute.
“I’ll give you a lift home, Adrian,” Bob says.
“No need, Bob. I’ll call a taxi.”
“It’s no sweat. I’ll take you.” Bob grabs his car keys.
“Thanks. I’ll make arrangements for a
The technician hands her the clipboard. With a trembling hand, she signs the form.
The left side of her face burns—feels raw. She touches it and winces.
“It’s a slight facial abrasion from the air bag,” the paramedic says. “Use some bacitracin on it for a couple of days.”
She nods and closes her eyes.
His cologne is overwhelming; nausea swims through her. If she heaves, they’ll whisk her off to the hospital. God, I don’t want to go there . If only he’d move away from her. She needs fresh air.
The paramedic stands. Her queasiness recedes.
“Anyone you want us to call?” he says.
“My sister.” She gives him the telephone number.
He dials it, walks a few yards away, and talks into his cell. “She’ll be here in a little while,” the medic calls back to her.
Megan’s thoughts tumble and her inner voice points out the obvious: it must be Conrad. It can’t be anyone else, not a chance. There’ve been the hang-ups, the flowers, the e-mails, and now this. Run off the Post Road and almost killed.
Megan reminds herself to listen to her inner voice, the one that tells her to be very careful after what happened with Conrad. It’s the voice that whispers, Assume nothing when it comes to him … absolutely nothing .
Sitting amid police and ambulance lights, with radio static and the tow truck winch whirring, Megan watches a necklace of red taillights trailing east, passing the burned-rubber streaks on the black asphalt and eyeballing the wrecked Audi. Headlights stream west as exhaust fumes linger in the deep blueness of the heavy night air. V-shaped cones of pinkish light from vapor lamps illuminate the road.
That inner voice hisses in her ear … It’s Conrad, a brilliant madman … and you’re chin deep in a ton of trouble .
He’s back … and this time he’ll kill you .
Eight
E rin looks pale and her voice is shaky. The Audi—with its twisted hulk and shattered glass—groans as it’s hoisted onto a flatbed truck. It’s totaled, just a complete loss. A cop waves traffic on. Adrian signs some papers; then he, Megan, and Erin walk to Erin’s Subaru Forester.
“This is some way to meet,” Erin says as she and Adrian shake hands.
Adrian nods and smiles weakly. A humming sensation throttles through his chest. “There’ll be other times,” he says, noticing that Erin’s nearly as tall as Megan; she also has that Celtic look with reddish-brown hair and cerulean-blue eyes.
“The pickup just ran you off the road?” Erin asks, turning off the Post Road.
“That’s right,” Megan whispers.
After passing through a series of tree-lined streets, they pull into the driveway of a ranch-style house about a mile from the Post Road.
As they enter the house, Marlee, wearing pajamas, jumps into Megan’s arms. Megan lifts her, and the child wraps her legs around Megan. “You okay, Mommy?” Marlee whimpers. Her reddish-blond curls are in disarray; her eyes look bleary.
“Everybody’s fine, sweetie.” Megan looks pale and depleted. Marlee rests her head on Megan’s shoulder and casts a furtive glance at Adrian.
Erin’s husband, Bob, a tall, thin guy with a receding hairline, introduces himself and then examines Adrian’s head. “You’ve got quite a goose egg there,” he says.
Adrian nods and sits down on a sofa. His head is throbbing and his legs feel weak.
Marlee and her cousins, Robert and Ellie, begin playing with Sampson, a fawn-colored little pug who’s getting more excited each minute.
“I’ll give you a lift home, Adrian,” Bob says.
“No need, Bob. I’ll call a taxi.”
“It’s no sweat. I’ll take you.” Bob grabs his car keys.
“Thanks. I’ll make arrangements for a
Similar Books
