Read Online Miles to Go by Richard Paul Evans - Free Book Online

I took my time walking back. Walking around the block was a far cry from the twenty to thirty miles I’d been putting in prior to the attack, but it didn’t matter. Snows had already hit Wyoming and Montana, and the east entrance of Yellowstone was already closed to traffic. I wasn’t going anywhere soon.

CHAPTER

Twelve
    Angel’s landlord came to the door and asked for Nicole. What am I missing?
    Alan Christoffersen’s diary
    The first measurable snow in Spokane fell on the fourteenth. The snowfall was deeper than I had anticipated—nearly five inches—and the sidewalks were completely buried. The good news was that the weatherman said it would be gone by the end of the week.
    Instead of walking outside, I did some light calisthenics, then found an aerobics channel on television, which I followed along with at the lowest impact level.
    As I was exercising, I could hear someone going up and down the walks with a snow blower. I parted the curtains and looked out. An elderly man was clearing the walks. He wore a brown parka, a knit scarf, and a hunting cap with earflaps, which he had pulled down and tied under his chin.
    I thought he was a little old to be clearing the walks and, had I been able, I would have gone out and helped him.
    About a half hour later, as I was finishing my second workout, there was a knock on the apartment door. I opened it to find the elderly gentleman standing in the doorway, his hat and shoulders flocked with snow. “Hello, is Nicole in?”
    I looked at him quizzically. “No, Angel Arnell lives here.”
    His brow furrowed, then he said, “Oh, then is Angel here?”
    “No, she’s at work.”
    “I’m Bill Dodd, I own this place. I just need to do a quick look-through of the apartment.”
    I was a little apprehensive about letting a complete stranger into Angel’s apartment, especially after he had called Angel by the wrong name, but he looked harmless enough, and he had just plowed the walks. Besides, he smelled of Old Spice cologne. How bad could you be wearing Old Spice?
    “Come in,” I said, stepping back from the door. “I’m sure she won’t mind.”
    He stomped his feet off at the door then walked inside. He took less than ten minutes to look around the place. As he was leaving he asked, “What’s your name?”
    “Alan.”
    He took off one of his mittens and put out his hand. “Pleasure to know you, Alan.”
    I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”
    “Would you mind telling Angel I came by? And tell her thanks for the get-well card. It made me laugh.”
    “Glad to.”
    He stopped outside the doorway. “She’s a great gal, Angel. I hate to see her go. I have some people interested in taking the place, but if she changes her mind, I’m more than happy to keep her. Wish I had more renters like her.”
    I was surprised by this news. “When does her lease expire?”
    “February first. She’s got a couple more months.” He put his mitten back on. “Goodbye.”
    “Bye.” I shut the door. “That’s weird,” I said aloud. Angel hadn’t said a word to me about moving.
    That night as we were eating dinner, I told Angel about the visit.
    “Your landlord came by today. He cleared the walks.”
    “Bill?”
    “I think that was his name.”
    “I love Bill. I don’t know why he insists on clearing thewalks himself. He has plenty of money and he’s eighty-two years old.” She said grimly, “I think he’s trying to have a heart attack.”
    I looked up from my spaghetti. “You sound serious.”
    “I’m only half kidding. He lost his wife two years ago. I don’t think he wants to live anymore.”
    “I can understand that,” I said.
    She either missed my comment or ignored it. “He collects model electric trains. I’ve been to his house. His entire basement is one huge train track. It’s actually quite impressive. You’ll have to see it sometime.” She leaned forward. “So what did he have to say?”
    “He said ‘Thank you for the get-well card.’