Darkly The Thunder Read Online Free PDF Page B

just relax.”
    â€œYou mean I don’t have to do dishes?”
    â€œThat’s right, baby.”
    â€œYou got a deal, Pop.”
    Sunny looked down. A steaming cup of coffee was on the table in front of her. Who put it there? She could swear that no one in the room had moved.
    She sighed. “Lots of excitement in town yesterday and last night. But I guess you all heard about it.”
    â€œIn a manner of speaking,” Richard said. He looked at Robin.
    The girl closed her eyes, then slowly opened them.
    â€œDid you hear about it, Robin?” Sunny asked.
    â€œHear about what?”
    â€œThose gruesome murders.”
    â€œWhat murders?”
    Sunny began to wonder if she’d wandered in through the back door of a nut house.
    Then she couldn’t remember what she’d been talking about.
    Something cold touched the young woman; something the hot coffee could not warm. She shuddered.
    â€œWe’re too close,” Linda said.
    â€œCan’t be helped,” her husband told her. “We’re running out of time.”
    There was a roaring in Sunny’s ears. She could see the lips of Richard and Linda moving, but she could not hear the words.
    Then the roaring abated, and she could not remember ever experiencing it.
    â€œI got into town yesterday, Mr. Jennings,” Sunny said, “and went to the local newspaper to go through their morgue. But all the stories concerning Sand were gone. I found that really odd.” She stopped when she noticed the word morgue had brought Richard’s head up, his eyes changing to a very strange color . . . and so cold-looking. She was suddenly uncomfortable under his cold gaze. “I’m sorry. Morgue is newspaper jargon for . . .”
    â€œI know,” the man said, a gentleness to his voice. “It’s just that we,” he indicated his wife, “have a very close friend named Morg. M-O-R-G. He was killed the same night Sand got his ticket punched.”
    Sunny let that register. She blinked. “You have a friend named Morg who is dead? ”
    Richard smiled. “Why don’t we all go into the den? We’ll be much more comfortable there. We must talk about Sand. We’re wasting time.”
    â€œI’ll bring the coffee pot,” Robin said.
    â€œNo!” her father told her. “You . . . can’t. Remember our deal, honey.”
    Sunny sighed, thinking: Weird family.
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    â€œNice-looking town,” Major Claude Jackson said. “Friendly-looking place.”
    â€œI wonder if they’ll remain friendly, when they learn why we’re here?” Capt. John Hishon asked.
    Three officers rode in the lead van. Three sergeants in the van behind them.
    â€œI don’t see why they shouldn’t.” Lt. Kathy Smith said. “It’s going to mean big bucks in their pockets when this is set up.”
    Major Jackson shrugged and put the van in gear, pulling away from the shoulder of the road and onto the main highway. “You never know how civilians are going to react to the military. Especially when they learn the base – however small – will be used for the rough training of special warfare troops. We’ll just have to play it by ear.”
    Since government vehicles don’t normally come equipped with personal radios, Sgt. Keith Preston had brought his own, complete with ear plug.
    Sgt. Janet Dixon noticed Keith’s frown. “What’s the matter, Keith?”
    The nineteen-year-old buck sergeant looked at her and smiled. “I just lost all my stations except for one. And all it plays is crap out of the fifties.”
    â€œWatch it, buddy,” Sgt. Maj. Gary Christensen said jokingly. “You’re talking about my music now.”
    â€œYou can sure have it, Sergeant Major.”
    Keith listened for a moment, his face a study as he changed expression several times.
    â€œWhat’s the matter now?” Janet