Dark Witness Read Online Free PDF Page A

whole. That's what Duncan said.
    Easy Peasy.
    Robert listened harder for the sound of a plane, but there was only ungodly stillness – or godly silence – all around. Robert chose to think of it as godly silent. Duncan said you had to choose how to look at things. Like a glass half full or half empty. Like Robert's face. Half . . .
    He flinched when snowflakes hit his lashes. He blinked and he forgot what he was thinking. The wind skated through the branches of the fir and pine and birch. There had been ice already in the river. Animals were hiding and hibernating.
    Maybe God was hibernating, too, because Robert couldn't hear Him anymore. Maybe he had run so fast he left God behind. Or maybe he'd gone so slow that God had gone on ahead. Either way, Robert was a little worried because Duncan said God would guide him, and now He wasn't talking. Tired and disheartened, Robert deduced he had been stupid to think God was talking to him.
    He sniffed really hard and took a deep breath. He didn't like being on the river when it was very, very dark. He hoped Glenn would have the fire going strong and that Teresa would have something good to eat when he got back. He hoped Melody would fix the button on his pants for him. He hoped Duncan wouldn't be sad that he had failed to find the hole in the universe. Robert raised his head as if he could smell the bread baking, but all he smelled was snow and frost. Then he saw a little miracle. Not a hole in the universe, but a pretty little fawn with a white flick of a tail and eyes that looked afraid even though he hadn't done anything at all to make her afraid.
    If Foster were with him, he would kill that deer and that would be sad. Robert loved a good hunk of deer meat, but he didn't want to kill a big-eyed deer to get it. He would like to pet her, though. He would pet this one if he could get close enough, but the wind shifted. When she smelled Robert, she bounded off on her matchstick legs. Deer were like people in that respect. If they smelled something on you like weirdness or ugliness or stupidity they just took off. Even the one person who was supposed to love you forever didn't like that smell.
    Ah, well.
    The deer was gone.
    The snow was falling.
    God was silent.
    Robert's nose was running.
    He was ready to go back to the boat, but he looked around once more just to be sure he hadn't missed something. He even looked up again in case he might see God hanging out in the sky pointing the way. He didn't see God, but he saw something he missed the first time. Oh, yes he did. Robert narrowed his already narrow, close-set eyes. He tilted his large head one way and then it flopped to his other shoulder. He pursed his full, pink lips.
    Some of the trees had no branches. It sort of looked like there was a hole in the forest. He could see the granite colored mountains. He could see the dark sky. He could see a road. He shouldn't be able to see those things from where he was standing. Yes, there was a hole in. . .
    Oh, God!
    Robert shouted out in his head.
    Oh, God!
    A hole in his universe.
    He was so excited that every layer of him wiggled and jiggled as he minced over the slick, flat rock. He balanced his massive person on the smaller rocks as he climbed right and then left. He teetered once and almost fell. That nearly stopped his heart. Falling out here, breaking a leg or spraining an ankle could mean death. He didn't want to die in the forest; he didn't want to die at all. Still, he was excited and because of that he tumbled the last few feet but landed more or less upright. What he saw made him let loose with a big "Oooh!" of amazement.
    Robert climbed over limbs that were the size of a man, stepped over smaller branches and sunk into tufts of dead, snow-covered pine needles that made the ground squishy. Finally, he stood in front of a wreck of metal: a crushed container, and a flatbed truck. Two of the chains that were supposed to secure the load had snapped. No surprise. They were rusted