Read Online Never Coming Back by Tim Weaver - Free Book Online Page A

crutches for the journey up the drive.
    â€œAnd how are you ladies today?”
    â€œWe’re good,” Carrie said. “How are you, Eric?”
    Eric Schiltz, temporarily distracted, watched Annabel move around the car: she barely needed her crutches to walk now. Her gait was a little stiff still, but she had good basic movement and her weight was being transferred evenly between legs. “I’m fine, thank you,” he eventually said to Carrie, and then his eyes fell on Annabel again. “Even better seeing your daughter like this.” When Annabel stopped at the bottom of the drive and looked back at them both, he said, “Why did I give you those crutches again, Belle?”
    Annabel laughed. “It feels almost normal now.”
    â€œIt looks almost normal too.”
    â€œThank you, Eric,” Carrie said to him, touching a hand to his arm.
    He nodded. “Come. Let’s get into the cool.”
    They headed inside, into a marble-floored foyer, where an air-conditioning unit,high up on one of the walls, hummed gently. Ahead of them, in the middle of the room, the stairs wound up and around to the second floor in a spiral; on the ground floor beyond, doorways led into a living room, kitchen and bedroom, then left into Dr. Schiltz’s study.
    â€œWow,” Carrie said. “What a beautiful home you have.”
    â€œOh, that’s very nice of you.”
    â€œHow long have you lived here?”
    â€œHere, in this house? About ten years. But I’ve been in the city for almost twenty-five. A lot of people don’t like it here, especially in the summer—it can get up to one hundred and ten, one hundred and fifteen degrees in July and August.” Schiltz gestured toward the air-conditioning unit. “But that’s what they invented that thing for, right?”
    He closed the front door.
    â€œOkay. Let me give you the guided tour.”
    He led them around the house, first into the living room, which—via a set of wall-to-ceiling folding doors—opened out on to a deck and a swimming pool, and then into the adjoining kitchen, open plan, finished in marble and oak. All four bedrooms—one on the ground, three upstairs—were variations on the same color scheme, subtle pastels, with striped accessories, and then finally they all ended up back in the ground-floor foyer.
    â€œAnd this is my study,” he said.
    Inside, a desk sat in front of a huge window, looking out over the foothills of the mountains. Like every other room, it was beautifully finished, although it felt less like it had been torn from the pages of a magazine, the walls lined with medical certificates and photographs, the desk home to an untidy in-tray, and a series of trophies earned out on the city’s golf courses. “Sorry about the mess,” he said to them, scooping up some papers and dumping them in the top tray. He pulled a couple of chairs out from the wall. “Let me go and get you something to drink.”
    While the women settled in, he went through to the kitchen and poured them both some lemonade, and when he got back, Annabel was standing, using the back of the chair as an anchor and slowly rolling her hips. He’d given her some exercises to do in order to build up her core strength, but she’d recovered even faster than he’d hoped.
    â€œHow’s it feeling?” Schiltz asked.
    Annabel smiled. “It feels really good.”
    He sat down at his desk, and both he and Carrie watched Annabel finish up her routine. When she was done, Carrie turned to him. “I can’t even begin to thank you.”
    â€œHonestly, it’s not me you have to thank.”
    She nodded. “I know. But . . .”
    â€œIt was my pleasure, Carrie.”
    Annabel sat down. “Thank you, Dr. Schiltz.”
    â€œIf you call me Dr. Schiltz again, I’ll have to put you back on the operating table and unfix you,” Schiltz joked,