Best Worst Mistake Read Online Free PDF Page B

titles that were her own personal favorites.
    She left the sheriff’s office and strode to her parking spot behind A Novel Experience. Her stomach muscles gave an aching twinge as the silver Tacoma pickup came into view. This had been her dad’s truck, his baby. She remembered sitting in his front yard during warm Brightwatersummer days, sinking her fingers into the lush grass, tilting her face to meet the sun’s kiss as cool air blew down from the mountains while he waxed and washed it in the driveway.
    These days, he didn’t even remember that he owned a truck.
    She started the engine and it sprang to life despite the temperatures. After this storm passed, she’d take Dad for a drive along the country back roads.Let him listen to all his classic rock favorites without a single eye roll. Heck, she’d even sing along.
    Right after she raised holy hell with his facility. How could Mountain View have been so careless as to allow him to escape and wander? Yes, he was around twenty or thirty years younger than the average resident but still.
    Thank God, Wilder Kane found him.
    At the town outskirtsshe turned left and then hooked a hard right past the crooked road sign that said “Castle Falls Lane.” She had never come down this way. Once she’d asked Dad about it because she wanted to see a waterfall so close to town, but Dad shook his head with a vague, “Not today, honey.”
    Or any day, it turned out. No one ever went to Castle Falls and eventually she sort of forgot about the place. Therewere so many other things to do while visiting Dad: four-wheeling, going for long day hikes in the John Muir Wilderness, or trout fishing. Activities that would never occur to Mom to do in five squillion billion years.
    Things Quinn loved.
    The truck radio started playing “White Christmas” and she hummed over the potholes. She loved musicals and adored Christmas. The holidays would be bittersweetthis year but no shame in clinging to the simple comforts of the season.
    “401 . . .” She peered at what appeared to be a rusted trailer. “403” was a burned out foundation surrounded by thorns. “Cheese and rice,” she mumbled. Brightwater was such a cute, charming old Western town. Castle Falls Lane was like a dark and dirty secret.
    405. There was a black mailbox and a long winding drivewayenclosed in a dark tunnel of pines. Ominous. She swallowed but her throat remained thick.
    “Stop being silly.” There was nothing creepy here. Just the textbook definition of a dark and stormy night, the clichéd backdrop triggering her subconscious.
    She parked her car in front of a stone cabin trimmed with forest green shutters and a dark green tin roof. Her headlights illuminated two blackwindows in the front, but smoke spiraled from the chimney. Someone must be home.
    She stepped outside, slammed the door and tendrils of hair whipped from her loose ponytail, slapping at her cheeks as she trudged to the house. Imagine Dad out in this weather? He must have been scared to death. Fresh tears threatened. Yes. Thank baby guardian angels for Wilder Kane. Who cared if he lived in acreepy place? She’d bake him a pie as a thank-you, actually scratch that, she could barely boil water. She’d buy a large bourbon pecan one at Haute Coffee. Her boots skidded on black ice and she caught herself, just.
    Throw the bakery’s new pumpkin spice latte pie into the mix as well.
    Right after giving Dad the biggest hug.
    She kicked snow off her boots on the top step before crossingthe small porch. As she raised her hand to knock, the door swung open, the space filled by a man’s enormous silhouette. She was in two-inch heeled boots and he still towered over her. So much for the wiry hipster of her imagination. This hulk read Little House on the Prairie and The Great Gatsby ?
    Does not compute.
    “Hello there, quite a night, hey?” she said, sticking out a hand in greetingwhile grappling for her brightest tone. It wouldn’t do to sound scared or