Deep Shadows Read Online Free PDF Page B

a kid. He couldn’t know that it was akin to having your heart walking around outside your body—out of your supervision, out of your control, vulnerable.
    â€œI’m going to drop Shelby off first, so she can check on Carter. Then I’ll take Bianca to check on her parents, and after that I’ll drop off the Smittys.”
    â€œI can drive my own car to see my parents,” Bianca said, “if someone can take me home.”
    â€œSounds like a gig for me,” said Patrick. “My car is parked at Shelby’s. I’ll take you to your place, and if your car doesn’t work, I’ll drive you over to check on your dad and your mom.” He drummed his fingers against the roof of the truck. “If this old rust bucket runs, mine should.”
    Patrick drove a restored 1965 Ford Mustang. The car was red and fast,and the gas mileage was terrible. Even Patrick admitted it was his midlife crisis car. He claimed everyone needed a diversion from the work of life. Maybe. Shelby couldn’t afford such hobbies. She was too busy trying to make ends meet.
    She’d made the mistake of voicing that thought, and it was one of the reasons she’d been pressured into their hiking group. It was easier to go than to argue with them about how she didn’t have time for such excursions. Once she’d claimed that she had to stay home and do yard work. Bianca, Patrick, and Max had appeared with a trailer full of yard equipment and finished the front yard and backyard in less than an hour.
    As he drove closer to their street, Max said, “What do you say we all meet at Shelby’s tomorrow morning? We can pool our information.”
    â€œSounds good to me,” Patrick said.
    â€œI can’t get there before ten. On Saturday mornings I go with Mamá to visit Papá .”
    â€œTen will be fine,” Max assured her.
    Shelby leaned forward and craned her neck, trying to see her small home as they turned onto Kaufman Street. Her house was the fourth on the right, and Max’s house was the fifth. Mr. Evans was standing in front of the house on the corner, talking with the owner. He raised a hand in greeting, and both Max and Shelby waved back.
    They passed houses where the owners were sitting on the porch or out in the yard, gazing up at the sky. A few waved, but most seemed transfixed by the aurora. That would last for a night or two, and then they’d grow tired of it. Shelby didn’t want to think about what would happen when these people realized the electricity wasn’t coming back on.
    If she was right.
    She prayed again that she was wrong.
    When she spotted her house, white with green trim, the sight calmed her. Max’s was a little better maintained—new screens on the windows, a fresh paint job on the exterior, rooms that had been remodeled one at a time—but both houses were the same age and nearly identical in size. Each had two bedrooms and one bath, with a little more than a thousand square feet. For Max, the austere living conditions were a choice. For Shelby, it had been a financial necessity. She had moved into her parents’ house after they were killed in a car accident.
    It wasn’t much, certainly not affluent, but it was their home—and it whispered to her that everything was fine. Yet she was unnerved by the fact that she could see the house so clearly at such a late hour. The aurora continued to brighten and spin in the heavens above them.
    As they neared the house, Shelby saw that Carter wasn’t at work as he should have been. His Buick was parked in the driveway, and he was sitting on the front porch, hunched over.

S IX
    C arter glanced up as Max’s truck slowed in front of their house. His mom jumped out before it had properly stopped.
    â€œAre you okay? Is everything all right? Weren’t you supposed to work late tonight?” The questions tumbled from her as she hurried up the walk.
    He stood and stretched,