Read Online Nowhere to Hide by Carlene Thompson - Free Book Online Page A

He wore a long, dark, coat—by long I mean down to the ankles—with the hood up. The coat was shiny—obviously made for wet weather. Very long, ragged dark and white hair hung to his chest from beneath the hood.
    “Inside the hood was a mask,” Marissa charged on, even though she could see Eric wanted to ask a question. “The mask was loose and rubbery, something that completely covered the head, not a little plastic thing held on by a string around the back. The eyes in the mask were huge, made to look like deep holes in the skull.” She paused. “Actually, the mask looked a lot like the one the killer wears in the movie Scream, but not exactly. I couldn’t see the person’s eyes at all at that time. I did see him walk into my lane and take a stance, legs slightly apart.” Her voice began to tremble. “It—he—made absolutely no move to evade the car. He just stood motionless, staring right at me.”
    Marissa ended with another glare at Eric, then turned her gaze to Lindsay and gave her ears such a vigorous rubbing the dog yelped. Marissa murmured, “I’m sorry, baby,” and laid her head on the dog’s neck so no one would see the tears flowing into her eyes.
    Another wave of uncomfortable silence washed through the room. All Marissa heard was the crackling of the flames in the fireplace, and humiliation filled her. Was she five instead of twenty-five? Temper and tears. Lord. She couldn’t raise her head and look at anyone.
    At last, Lindsay craned her head sideways far enough to lick away the salty tears from Marissa’s face. The dog seemed to be putting her whole heart into the task and Marissa feared Lindsay planned a full-body bath. She looked up, managed a, “Thank you, Lindsay,” gently pushed the dog’s ardent face away, pulled a tissue from the pocket of her robe, and began wiping her face.
    Immediately Catherine stood over her holding a foil-wrapped antibacterial wipe. Marissa looked at it and burst out with a weak, teary giggle. “Gosh, Catherine, do you keep these tucked down the front of your dress?”
    Catherine gave her a deadpan look. “At all times, in case a dog decides to wash my face.”
    Laughter, a bit edgy but still laughter, circled the room. Marissa wiped her face with the cold, astringent wipe and sniffed mightily. “I apologize to everyone for my tantrum. I’m afraid my manners aren’t quite up to par tonight.”
    Two voices spoke at once. “It’s all right, sweetie—you were almost killed !” This from Catherine. “Yes, you’re safe and sound. Those few tears were just aftershock.” This from James. In a moment, a soft, deep voice said slowly, “Go ahead and cry all you need to, Marissa. Sometimes crying is all that helps. I ought to know.” Marissa lifted her gaze to see Eric giving her a look of deep understanding that touched her more than any words of sympathy ever could.
    3
    At three A.M. Eric Montgomery stood on the edge of Falls Way looking at the jagged path Marissa Gray’s car had left on its shattering trip down to the Orenda River. The emergency crews had abandoned the area, and the carloads of sightseers were safely at home by now. Flares still marked the presence of the semitruck as well as the gaping hole in the guardrail. The blinding snow of a few hours ago had dwindled to a diaphanous veil. Behind Eric, a few scattered houses clung to the hill overlooking the river. Red, green, blue, and yellow Christmas lights glowed from some of them, reflecting on the dark, icy water that had almost turned Marissa’s sporty car into her coffin.
    Eric pictured Marissa wearing her huge bunny slippers, her nose buried under a mound of gauze and adhesive tape, and the garish afghan wrapped around her as she clutched her dog and defiantly insisted something resembling a ghoul had walked in front of her car on Falls Way. Someone else might think she’d had a few drinks before she left for the party. Eric knew Marissa would admit if she’d had even one drink