Read Online Tumbled Graves by Brenda Chapman - Free Book Online

couldn’t find a pulse. When he pulled his hand away the flashlight beam lit up crimson blood on his fingers.
    He squatted on his haunches for a moment more, the rain pouring down his face, trying to make sense of it. Then he took out the oil rag that he kept in his pocket and wiped his hand before slowly pushing himself to his feet. He backed away, careful not to disturb the scene any more than he already had. Shock was setting in and made him feel outside his body. He’d like nothing more than to get back in his truck and tell Jed that it was just a deer on the road. Carry on to the Mallorytown rest stop and have burgers and maybe get Jed to talk about where he planned to go to school in the fall. The talk was long overdue. The woman was dead. She wouldn’t know the difference.
    He started back up the road, the wind pushing him along this time toward the flashing lights of his transport. The door to the cab fought him as a strong gust of wind blew it wide open. He climbed into the cab and wrestled the door shut behind him. Then he sat for a moment, collecting himself, hands on the steering wheel.
    â€œDad?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWas it anything?”
    He turned his head sideways and looked at his son’s face, so young and untested in all the things that could beat a man down. Now was the time to put the truck into gear and get back on the road. Walter inhaled a long draught of warm air from the truck cab into his lungs. He let it out slowly and nodded in Jed’s direction.
    â€œHit 911, Son, then hand me your phone.”
    Jed’s eyes widened before he looked down at his phone. Walter swallowed the lump in his throat at the sight of his boy’s bowed head, blond hair sticking up like duck down above the nape of his neck. He’d missed the better part of his kids’ lives, telling himself that he was making a good living for his family by being on the road. Telling himself they were better off with him gone most of the time. Sometimes he’d even convinced himself. Jed and his sister had gotten used to his comings and goings, never questioning why he wouldn’t find a job in town. His wife had covered for him. She’d kept him tied to them with some invisible, endless string even during those long stretches when he’d taken extra runs, trying to ease something in himself that wouldn’t be eased. Lying to Jed now would cross some dangerous line that Walter knew he’d never be able to uncross. It would break the string that held him fast. The kid had seen what he’d seen. The body on the side of the road would haunt his dreams even if Walter made him believe for this moment that he’d been mistaken.
    He took the phone from Jed and spoke to an officer on the desk. They’d have to wait around and talk to police when they arrived. He’d have to fight his way through the rain and wind again and light some flares.
    So much for making Montreal before sunrise.
    Walter reached over and rested his hand on the back of his son’s neck. “Text your mother and tell her we’ll be spending the night at a motel in Kingston. I got a feeling we’re going to be a while.”

Chapter Nine
    R ouleau stood from his crouched position near the dead woman. They’d closed off the highway and erected a tent and hooked up lanterns with enough light for photos and a thorough first inspection. Rain pattered on the plastic material like a kind of hypnotizing background music. He signalled to Fiona Gundersund to take over and ducked outside the protective awning, stepping around a puddle and over to where Paul Gundersund stood talking on his cellphone. After a few seconds, Gundersund tucked the phone into his pocket and pulled his hood down over his forehead.
    Gundersund spoke first. “The driver who called it in doesn’t know anything. It’s definitely Adele Delaney on the side of the highway. The question is how she ended up