Read Online Whispers in the Mist by Lisa Alber - Free Book Online Page B

grieving.
    Tears welled and dripped onto her cheeks. She didn’t notice the chronic leaking anymore. With careful maneuvering and much patience, Ellen managed to only lose half the milk to the towels this time. So long as the kittens got enough sustenance to fall back to sleep, she was satisfied.
    She changed the damp towel that lined the kittens’ box with a fresh one and made her way down the hall toward the kitchen. She tossed a pile of towels and children’s underwear into the washing machine. The children would be home from school in an hour, dropped off by one of her neighbors. Ellen browsed the cupboards for an afternoon treat for the three of them. She pulled down pancake mix. Yes, pancakes with Nutella on top. Odd kind of snack, but why not? They’d love it. And so would she, never mind her so-called flabby hips.
    Just like that, what little energy she had dissipated. She leaned against the counter. For the past day, she’d used kitten care as a pathetic attempt to avoid looking at herself too closely. She’d have one last say. Somehow.
    Resolved but not exactly revived, Ellen forced herself back to the task at hand only to hear an engine idling at the front of the house. Danny?
    Ellen trotted into the living room and twitched the curtains for a peek outside. The fog had returned, grey enough to leach the bloom out of a rose. No, the engine rumble didn’t sound like Danny’s Peugeot. This engine sounded troubled in other ways, and it edged along her lane at too slow a pace, fog or not. Ellen doubled back to the laundry alcove, peering along a set of utility shelves. With Danny’s old hurling stick in hand, she returned to the living room. Visions of Petey’s Grey Man cavorted through her imagination, lurking about on the lane, perhaps in league with the squatters hiding out in the stone folly.
    The car had moved on past her house to loiter in front of Mr. Travis’s pasture next door. She opened the door and squinted at faint brake lights that faded when the engine grumbled to a stop. The fog’s chill penetrated her bones. Footsteps brushed through the grass, loud against the stultifying silence.
    “Young Travis, that you?” she called. “How’s your father? I hope his back isn’t out again.”
    The footsteps paused, then quickened. She caught a glimpse of a figure heading up the hill along the drystone wall. Ellen surprised herself by breaking into a run toward the parked car. She could at least memorize the plate number. Her troubles with Danny didn’t touch on the children. He’d get the owner’s name and particulars without questioning her paranoia. Strangers did not loiter within shouting distance of the Ahern children. This was a given.
    The car gave her pause: a late-model Volvo. She approached with bat high, more puzzled than suspicious now. She was sure she’d seen this car before. She stopped, listening to the shush within the dark. She eased up to the passenger-side window and glanced into the car’s interior. Nice leather interior. Takeaway cartons and—
    “Jaysus!” she squealed.
    A head appeared in the backseat window. With heartbeat rocketing all around her body, Ellen stumbled backwards and fell into a sprint toward the house. The car door opened and light footsteps followed her. Unfortunately, Ellen was out of shape. She stopped and whirled around, waving the hurling bat in every direction.
    “Stand back! Don’t come any closer!”
    Before Ellen stood a skinny lass somewhere in her twenties, with a mass of tangled curls enveloping her face. Other than a little undernourished and in need of a shower, the girl didn’t appear endangered or dangerous. She’d jumped out of the bat’s trajectory and now circled around Ellen as if she were the one who needed to take care, not Ellen.
    Ellen pointed the bat at the girl and spoke with ragged voice. “Hold your hands in the air. Please. And stand still. Give me a second here.”
    The girl kept her gaze aimed at the bat while Ellen