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Authors: Jacqueline Rhoades
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pleasure.
Beyond them was an older pickup truck with
huge tires. It was obviously a work vehicle if one took into
account the ladders, buckets and tarps in the back and next to
that, the old beat up rust bucket Tilda and Buddy had arrived in.
Next to that was her own little rust bucket that had served her
faithfully since she bought it used ten years ago.
Kat tossed everything that filled her front
seat out onto the floor. She would pick it up later when she had
time. For now, finding Buddy was priority number one.
Chapter 8
Kat searched for hours along the half mile
lane that led to the house and five miles in either direction once
she got out on the county road. She followed every side road and
lane. Steven's Bridge, Duck Creek, Twenty Mile, Old Mill; the names
became familiar as she traveled them over and over.
Twice, heart thumping in fear of what she
might find, she stopped her slow crawl and got out of the car to
investigate the ditches that ran alongside the road when her eyes
detected something not quite right. The first was a dead deer,
decaying and bloated, and the second, a bag of garbage tossed by a
passerby and torn open by some wild creature in search of a
meal.
Twice she stopped for odd flashes of bright
light from the edge of the trees and once, left the car at the side
of the road to run across a stubbled field to find nothing when she
could have sworn she saw a man.
Every hour or so she stopped by the house to
check in with Tilda and the news was always the same; no word from
Charles, no sign of Buddy. Each time, Tilda begged her to stay.
Each time, Kat refused and Tilda exchanged Kat's empty travel mug
for one filled with coffee.
Kat was wet, muddy and tired, but she
wouldn't give up. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still
overcast and full darkness was falling fast. Her gas gauge showed
almost empty as she swung onto Fulton's Bend, a narrow gravel road
she'd learned would bring her out to the county road about a mile
beyond the turnoff for Hell Hall, the facetious name having taken
on a more sinister connotation when she thought of the possible
outcomes of Buddy's disappearance. This would be her last pass
before she ran out of gas.
Charles must be exhausted. While she was
riding in semi-comfort, he was tramping through the woods and
fields on foot. He too, was MIA and Kat thought it odd he hadn't
checked once with Tilda to see if Buddy had returned on his own. As
much as she wanted not to, Kat was worried for his safety, too.
He was arrogant and rude and since Tilda and
Buddy's arrival had gone out of his way to ignore her existence and
yet she couldn't get him out of her mind. It was as if after that
one wild and passionate encounter, he was inside her, had become an
intrinsic part of her and she didn't like the feeling at all.
She felt used and humiliated, a
been-there-done-that sensation she had no wish to repeat. The first
time was in high school when the football team's star running back
asked her out and dated her regularly, only to leave her with her
first formal dress hanging in her closet with the new shoes and bag
to match two days before Homecoming. His grades were solid and the
two papers she'd helped him with would carry his eligibility
through the season. He didn't need her any more.
He didn't feel the need to tell her that, but
the blond chick with big boobs and bigger hair that ended up on his
arm for Homecoming couldn't wait to give her the news.
It happened again when she was a college
freshman and let's not forget The Bastard who waited until the
final med school bill was paid before he told her he'd fallen madly
in love with a twenty one year old nurse.
No, being used wasn't a new experience, but
it had never felt quite like this.
Charles had treated her like some two bit
tramp, a quick fuck, a dirty little secret not to be exposed in
respectable company. Okay, they didn't quite get to the fuck part,
but they would have if Tilda hadn't shown up when
Beyond them was an older pickup truck with
huge tires. It was obviously a work vehicle if one took into
account the ladders, buckets and tarps in the back and next to
that, the old beat up rust bucket Tilda and Buddy had arrived in.
Next to that was her own little rust bucket that had served her
faithfully since she bought it used ten years ago.
Kat tossed everything that filled her front
seat out onto the floor. She would pick it up later when she had
time. For now, finding Buddy was priority number one.
Chapter 8
Kat searched for hours along the half mile
lane that led to the house and five miles in either direction once
she got out on the county road. She followed every side road and
lane. Steven's Bridge, Duck Creek, Twenty Mile, Old Mill; the names
became familiar as she traveled them over and over.
Twice, heart thumping in fear of what she
might find, she stopped her slow crawl and got out of the car to
investigate the ditches that ran alongside the road when her eyes
detected something not quite right. The first was a dead deer,
decaying and bloated, and the second, a bag of garbage tossed by a
passerby and torn open by some wild creature in search of a
meal.
Twice she stopped for odd flashes of bright
light from the edge of the trees and once, left the car at the side
of the road to run across a stubbled field to find nothing when she
could have sworn she saw a man.
Every hour or so she stopped by the house to
check in with Tilda and the news was always the same; no word from
Charles, no sign of Buddy. Each time, Tilda begged her to stay.
Each time, Kat refused and Tilda exchanged Kat's empty travel mug
for one filled with coffee.
Kat was wet, muddy and tired, but she
wouldn't give up. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still
overcast and full darkness was falling fast. Her gas gauge showed
almost empty as she swung onto Fulton's Bend, a narrow gravel road
she'd learned would bring her out to the county road about a mile
beyond the turnoff for Hell Hall, the facetious name having taken
on a more sinister connotation when she thought of the possible
outcomes of Buddy's disappearance. This would be her last pass
before she ran out of gas.
Charles must be exhausted. While she was
riding in semi-comfort, he was tramping through the woods and
fields on foot. He too, was MIA and Kat thought it odd he hadn't
checked once with Tilda to see if Buddy had returned on his own. As
much as she wanted not to, Kat was worried for his safety, too.
He was arrogant and rude and since Tilda and
Buddy's arrival had gone out of his way to ignore her existence and
yet she couldn't get him out of her mind. It was as if after that
one wild and passionate encounter, he was inside her, had become an
intrinsic part of her and she didn't like the feeling at all.
She felt used and humiliated, a
been-there-done-that sensation she had no wish to repeat. The first
time was in high school when the football team's star running back
asked her out and dated her regularly, only to leave her with her
first formal dress hanging in her closet with the new shoes and bag
to match two days before Homecoming. His grades were solid and the
two papers she'd helped him with would carry his eligibility
through the season. He didn't need her any more.
He didn't feel the need to tell her that, but
the blond chick with big boobs and bigger hair that ended up on his
arm for Homecoming couldn't wait to give her the news.
It happened again when she was a college
freshman and let's not forget The Bastard who waited until the
final med school bill was paid before he told her he'd fallen madly
in love with a twenty one year old nurse.
No, being used wasn't a new experience, but
it had never felt quite like this.
Charles had treated her like some two bit
tramp, a quick fuck, a dirty little secret not to be exposed in
respectable company. Okay, they didn't quite get to the fuck part,
but they would have if Tilda hadn't shown up when
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