Read Online Seeds of Deception: A Kate Burkholder Short Story by Linda Castillo - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Linda Castillo
Tags: Fiction, Literature & Fiction, Women Sleuths, Mystery, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), Police Procedurals
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crumbled, sending her back into the water. No, she thought. No! Another wild grab. The ice was solid this time. A scream tore from her throat as she heaved herself upward, but her coat was waterlogged. She wasn’t strong enough to pull herself out.
“No…” She’d intended to scream, but the word was little more than a kitten’s mewl.
For the first time it occurred to her that she might have to abandon her plan. The thought of failure outraged her. After all the preparation, the hope and planning, after seeing to every detail, she was going to drown in this stinking fucking lake like some dumb animal that had wandered onto thin ice.
“ No! ” She tried to slam her fist down on the ice, but her arm flailed weakly. Instead, she reached out and clung to the frozen edge. Shivering. Teeth chattering uncontrollably. Strength dwindling with astounding speed.
Through the driving snow, she caught sight of the figure. Twenty feet away, watching her. She tried to speak, but her mouth refused to move. She raised her hand, a frozen claw against the night sky. She couldn’t believe this was happening. That her life would end this way. After everything she’d been through. So close, and now no one would ever know …
Exhaustion tugged at her, promising her a place that was warm and soft and comforting. It would be so easy to let go of the ice and give in. End the nightmare once and for all.
Her fingers slipped. Her face dipped beneath the surface. Water in her mouth. In her nose. Body convulsing. Too weak to fight. She broke the surface, coughing and spitting, the taste of mud in her mouth. She looked at the figure, no longer a threat, but her only chance to live.
“Help,” she whispered.
The figure lay bellydown on the ice. A branch scraped across the snow-covered surface. “Grab on,” the voice told her. “Take it and hold tight.”
Hope flickered inside her. A candle fighting to stay lit in a gale. She reached for the branch with hands no longer her own. She couldn’t feel them, but watched as her gloved fingers closed around the base.
Ice scraped her coat as she was pulled out, breaking beneath her weight at first, then holding. Closing her eyes, she clung to the stick. Then she was laid out on the ice, still gripping the branch, unable to release it. Violent tremors racking her body. Cold tearing into her flesh like cannibal teeth. Her hair was already beginning to freeze, sticking to her face like strips of cloth.
She was aware of movement, booted feet in the snow. Then she was being dragged toward shore. When she opened her eyes, she saw the black skeletons of the tree branches against the night sky. Strong hands beneath her arms.
She looked up at the sky. Snow slanting down. Her feet leaving furrows in the snow. And she wondered: How will I run without my boot?
CHAPTER 1
Dusk arrives early and without fanfare in northeastern Ohio in late January. It’s not yet five P.M . and already the woods on the north side of Hogpath Road are alive with shadows. I’m behind the wheel of my city-issue Explorer, listening to the nearly nonexistent activity on my police radio, uncharacteristically anxious for my shift to end. In the field to my left, the falling snow has transformed the cut cornstalks to an army of miniature skeletal snowmen. It’s the first snow of what has been a mild season so far, but with a low-pressure system barreling down from Canada, the situation is about to change. By morning, my small police department and I will undoubtedly be dealing with a slew of accidents, hopefully none too serious.
My name is Kate Burkholder and I’m the chief of police of Painters Mill, Ohio, a township of just over 5,300 souls, half of whom are Amish, including my own family. I left the fold when I was eighteen, not an easy feat when all I’d ever known was the plain life. After a disastrous first year on my own in nearby Columbus, I earned my GED and landed an unlikely part-time job: answering phones at a
“No…” She’d intended to scream, but the word was little more than a kitten’s mewl.
For the first time it occurred to her that she might have to abandon her plan. The thought of failure outraged her. After all the preparation, the hope and planning, after seeing to every detail, she was going to drown in this stinking fucking lake like some dumb animal that had wandered onto thin ice.
“ No! ” She tried to slam her fist down on the ice, but her arm flailed weakly. Instead, she reached out and clung to the frozen edge. Shivering. Teeth chattering uncontrollably. Strength dwindling with astounding speed.
Through the driving snow, she caught sight of the figure. Twenty feet away, watching her. She tried to speak, but her mouth refused to move. She raised her hand, a frozen claw against the night sky. She couldn’t believe this was happening. That her life would end this way. After everything she’d been through. So close, and now no one would ever know …
Exhaustion tugged at her, promising her a place that was warm and soft and comforting. It would be so easy to let go of the ice and give in. End the nightmare once and for all.
Her fingers slipped. Her face dipped beneath the surface. Water in her mouth. In her nose. Body convulsing. Too weak to fight. She broke the surface, coughing and spitting, the taste of mud in her mouth. She looked at the figure, no longer a threat, but her only chance to live.
“Help,” she whispered.
The figure lay bellydown on the ice. A branch scraped across the snow-covered surface. “Grab on,” the voice told her. “Take it and hold tight.”
Hope flickered inside her. A candle fighting to stay lit in a gale. She reached for the branch with hands no longer her own. She couldn’t feel them, but watched as her gloved fingers closed around the base.
Ice scraped her coat as she was pulled out, breaking beneath her weight at first, then holding. Closing her eyes, she clung to the stick. Then she was laid out on the ice, still gripping the branch, unable to release it. Violent tremors racking her body. Cold tearing into her flesh like cannibal teeth. Her hair was already beginning to freeze, sticking to her face like strips of cloth.
She was aware of movement, booted feet in the snow. Then she was being dragged toward shore. When she opened her eyes, she saw the black skeletons of the tree branches against the night sky. Strong hands beneath her arms.
She looked up at the sky. Snow slanting down. Her feet leaving furrows in the snow. And she wondered: How will I run without my boot?
CHAPTER 1
Dusk arrives early and without fanfare in northeastern Ohio in late January. It’s not yet five P.M . and already the woods on the north side of Hogpath Road are alive with shadows. I’m behind the wheel of my city-issue Explorer, listening to the nearly nonexistent activity on my police radio, uncharacteristically anxious for my shift to end. In the field to my left, the falling snow has transformed the cut cornstalks to an army of miniature skeletal snowmen. It’s the first snow of what has been a mild season so far, but with a low-pressure system barreling down from Canada, the situation is about to change. By morning, my small police department and I will undoubtedly be dealing with a slew of accidents, hopefully none too serious.
My name is Kate Burkholder and I’m the chief of police of Painters Mill, Ohio, a township of just over 5,300 souls, half of whom are Amish, including my own family. I left the fold when I was eighteen, not an easy feat when all I’d ever known was the plain life. After a disastrous first year on my own in nearby Columbus, I earned my GED and landed an unlikely part-time job: answering phones at a
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