Devil's Lake (Bittersweet Hollow Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

farm stuff, okay?”
    “Sure thing.” Boone smiled, nodded to Portia and Daisy, and stepped out of the room. “See you all tomorrow.”

Chapter 7
     
    W hen Boone emerged into the starlit yard, he stopped for a moment to lean against his truck, glancing up at Portia’s bedroom window, which spilled warm yellow light for the first time in years.
    A broad array of emotions flooded his heart.
    Joy. Relief. Apprehension.
    What had happened to the girl?
    It must have been awful. Something dreadful. So bad the fear still raged within her and broke through with certain triggers. Like when he’d stood over her bed, too close to her. Or when he tried to touch her. Of course, his approach had been completely innocent, just him wanting to help. But the act of him looming over her, reaching for her, had caused her to lose it.
    When she’d screamed, it had been so primal, so full of horror, dread, and panic, he’d felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up, like a dog’s hackles.
    What the hell had that brute done to her? Or had there been more than one?
    Anger coursed through him. It would be a lot simpler if he had a name or a face. A face he could smash with his fists.
    Hitting that bastard would feel so good right about now.
    He was convinced she’d been kidnapped, definitely abused.
    But by whom? How had he grabbed her? And why?
    He knew there were sickos out there. Guys who were pure evil, somehow seriously damaged. Or people with no conscience.
    What did they call them? Sociopaths? Something like that. Like they were born deficient, without any sense of right or wrong. Without any concern for others.
    He shook his head and glanced over to the paddock, catching Mirage staring at him.
    The horse snorted, shook his head, and turned in a tight circle.
    He seemed to know something was up.
    Boone wandered in his direction. Immediately, the black stallion approached him. Boone fished a few chunks of carrot from his jacket pocket and offered them, palm up. “She’s home again, buddy. Your girl. You remember her, don’t you?”
    Mirage pushed his soft muzzle into Boone’s hand and delicately plucked the first piece from his palm, chewing it with a rhythmic crunching sound that Boone found comforting.
    He reached up to stroke the horse’s thick forelock. “That’s a good boy.”
    Mirage thrust his head against Boone’s chest.
    “Okay, okay. Here’s the last piece.”
    He patted the horse’s sleek neck and muscled shoulder, listening to the sounds of the night. Crickets chirped in the fields. Tree frogs chorused their nightly songs. An owl screeched from the deep woods.
    He straightened and took Mirage’s halter in both hands, looking at him straight on. “We’ll both help her get well, won’t we, big guy?”
    Whistling a tune, Boone ambled back to his truck, turned the key in the ignition, and headed down the bumpy dirt road toward home.
    ***
     Portia snuggled and wept against her mother, lying beside her in her childhood bed with both dogs pressed against her. They didn’t speak for an hour. She felt her mother’s soft fingertips stroking her hair, just like when she was a little girl. Inside, deep caverns shifted and yawned, threatening to let the terror escape. But somehow, safe in her mother’s arms like a little child, all that emerged were wracking sobs.
    She cried until she was wrung dry. She cried for the missed years. She cried for the pain she’d endured, the humiliations she’d suffered, the fear she’d held in, the disabling horror that had been her life for the last two years.
    Throughout, her mother murmured soft nothings, little cooing sounds she’d used when Portia had fallen off her bike or took a tumble off her first pony. She patted her arms, her back, rubbing her hands in circles.
    Sometime during the night, her father came into the room. He wrapped himself up in a comforter and slept in the chair by the window, softly snoring.
    At midnight, with both parents close by, she