Read Online Nowhere to Hide by Carlene Thompson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carlene Thompson
Tags: Suspense
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before she left the house and she wouldn’t make up a ridiculous story about a monster to explain why she wrecked.
Eric believed Marissa had seen something —maybe a deer or a big dog—and in the near whiteout caused by the snow she’d dodged the animal and gone sailing through the guardrail. She’d been knocked unconscious, then awakened to find herself literally hanging on the steeply sloped riverbank, trapped by her seat belt, waiting for help while snow, ice, and cold wind battered her car. Her fright and semi-consciousness had caused her mind to create a malevolent creature trying to get at her in the prison of her Mustang.
That sounded good, but Eric had trouble accepting it. Marissa had always been imaginative. He used to think she should have become an author of suspense novels instead of a journalist. Still, when she was young and he’d met her when she came to his house to visit Gretchen, Marissa had struck him as an outwardly high-spirited girl with a levelheaded core—a girl who would never confuse fiction with reality. She was far more mature than his sister, Gretchen, seemed to have her feet firmly on the ground, and tonight had been remarkably fearless.
Eric had rarely spoken to Marissa since Gretchen’s death, but he’d kept track of her and hadn’t heard anything to make him believe Marissa had changed. She admitted now that after the wreck at first she thought she was seeing a monster trying to get in the car. When her mind had cleared, though, she realized the “creature” still lurking by the car was actually a person in wild disguise. Eric sighed. All he could do was hope on Monday when she gave him her formal statement she would be rested and recovered from her initial panic and give a plausible statement with no mention of a creature or a monster.
Eric took a deep breath of the chilling air. A towboat pushed five barges down the river. Moving slowly and quietly, surrounded by mist and the last feathering of snow, they looked almost magical. Eric closed his eyes, recalling with almost jolting clarity hot summer days when the sun glared off the water and he relaxed almost to the point of drowsiness aboard Bernard Gray’s cabin cruiser, the Annemarie . Ironically, the woman for whom Dr. Gray named the boat suffered from severe seasickness. She never went boating but urged her husband, who spent long days performing surgery, to enjoy himself on weekends.
Sheriff Mitch Farrell, Dr. Gray’s cousin, went on the boat whenever he could. He laughed uproariously, drank endless amounts of soft drinks, and ate more than his share of sandwiches and potato salad from the coolers Mrs. Gray sent along, and his nose always turned bright red because he refused to wear sunblock. His wife, Jean, seemed content to stay at home tending to her flower and vegetable gardens.
Dr. Gray had loved young people, so aside from Mitch Farrell, his passengers were always his daughters, Catherine and Marissa, Eric and his younger sister, Gretchen, and Will Addison—charming despite his slight air of entitlement. Sometimes Dr. Gray included his daughters’ friend Tonya Ward—a showily pretty girl who at sixteen seemed designed to wear a bikini and managed to be sexy, funny, flirtatious, and refined all at the same time. Gretchen had admired Tonya. So had local boys Dillon and Andrew Archer when their father allowed them to come along, which was seldom, because their father kept them nearly chained to Archer Auto Repair.
In spite of the cold, Eric removed his hat. Maybe their father had been right, he thought as the breeze caught his slightly long, wavy ash-blond hair and tossed it to one side. Dillon had been seventeen and Andrew nineteen years old the first summer they’d been allowed to go out on the boat. Dillon’s dark coloring, striking blue eyes, and muscular build had made him far more attractive than Andrew with his almost white-blond hair worn in a crew cut, his tall, lanky body, and his unfortunate
Eric believed Marissa had seen something —maybe a deer or a big dog—and in the near whiteout caused by the snow she’d dodged the animal and gone sailing through the guardrail. She’d been knocked unconscious, then awakened to find herself literally hanging on the steeply sloped riverbank, trapped by her seat belt, waiting for help while snow, ice, and cold wind battered her car. Her fright and semi-consciousness had caused her mind to create a malevolent creature trying to get at her in the prison of her Mustang.
That sounded good, but Eric had trouble accepting it. Marissa had always been imaginative. He used to think she should have become an author of suspense novels instead of a journalist. Still, when she was young and he’d met her when she came to his house to visit Gretchen, Marissa had struck him as an outwardly high-spirited girl with a levelheaded core—a girl who would never confuse fiction with reality. She was far more mature than his sister, Gretchen, seemed to have her feet firmly on the ground, and tonight had been remarkably fearless.
Eric had rarely spoken to Marissa since Gretchen’s death, but he’d kept track of her and hadn’t heard anything to make him believe Marissa had changed. She admitted now that after the wreck at first she thought she was seeing a monster trying to get in the car. When her mind had cleared, though, she realized the “creature” still lurking by the car was actually a person in wild disguise. Eric sighed. All he could do was hope on Monday when she gave him her formal statement she would be rested and recovered from her initial panic and give a plausible statement with no mention of a creature or a monster.
Eric took a deep breath of the chilling air. A towboat pushed five barges down the river. Moving slowly and quietly, surrounded by mist and the last feathering of snow, they looked almost magical. Eric closed his eyes, recalling with almost jolting clarity hot summer days when the sun glared off the water and he relaxed almost to the point of drowsiness aboard Bernard Gray’s cabin cruiser, the Annemarie . Ironically, the woman for whom Dr. Gray named the boat suffered from severe seasickness. She never went boating but urged her husband, who spent long days performing surgery, to enjoy himself on weekends.
Sheriff Mitch Farrell, Dr. Gray’s cousin, went on the boat whenever he could. He laughed uproariously, drank endless amounts of soft drinks, and ate more than his share of sandwiches and potato salad from the coolers Mrs. Gray sent along, and his nose always turned bright red because he refused to wear sunblock. His wife, Jean, seemed content to stay at home tending to her flower and vegetable gardens.
Dr. Gray had loved young people, so aside from Mitch Farrell, his passengers were always his daughters, Catherine and Marissa, Eric and his younger sister, Gretchen, and Will Addison—charming despite his slight air of entitlement. Sometimes Dr. Gray included his daughters’ friend Tonya Ward—a showily pretty girl who at sixteen seemed designed to wear a bikini and managed to be sexy, funny, flirtatious, and refined all at the same time. Gretchen had admired Tonya. So had local boys Dillon and Andrew Archer when their father allowed them to come along, which was seldom, because their father kept them nearly chained to Archer Auto Repair.
In spite of the cold, Eric removed his hat. Maybe their father had been right, he thought as the breeze caught his slightly long, wavy ash-blond hair and tossed it to one side. Dillon had been seventeen and Andrew nineteen years old the first summer they’d been allowed to go out on the boat. Dillon’s dark coloring, striking blue eyes, and muscular build had made him far more attractive than Andrew with his almost white-blond hair worn in a crew cut, his tall, lanky body, and his unfortunate
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