Fear the Darkness: A Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page B

have feelings. Dad says if Aunt Brigid died and they were locked in the house with her without any other food they’d start eating her in a couple of days. First they’d eat whatever wasn’t clothed, like her hands and her face.”
    Now, some out there might find a statement like that inappropriate, maybe even a little perverse. But to me it was just Quinn dinner conversation over the Hamburger Helper, Dad playing Make the Kids Gag. Carlo and Mallory were both stunned momentarily, though; you don’t say shit like that out of the blue in front of civilians. I felt sorry for Gemma-Kate because I’d stopped a conversation once or twice myself.
    “Who wants some chicken tikka?” I said into the silence.

 
    Four
    Happily the chicken tikka was good enough to overcome any squeamishness about postmortem canine scavenging. We finished everything including the sauce, which we wiped up with the naan bread. I looked around the table and continued to marvel that I hadn’t made the food, I hadn’t even set the table, and yet I felt as if I had made this time for us where everyone was in sync somehow, in a family I had created. Look, after a long life lived alone except for the company of low-life criminals, I have a husband and a friend. We’re doing small talk. This is what normal life is like, I thought, the kind I had fought all those years to preserve for other people. And I didn’t even have to worry about arguments flaring the way they did with my family. I marveled at how good it could be, all of us laughing. I remember it so vividly because it was the last time together. Laughing, I mean.
    After dinner Mallory said, “You know what would be even more fun than hanging around with a bunch of old people? Come to church. There’s a cute boy your age.”
    “Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble,” Gemma-Kate said.
    Gemma-Kate’s words sounded smooth, as if they had been practiced. And they didn’t sound like hers. I don’t want to be any trouble was Todd’s voice, something he would have told Gemma-Kate to say to us. I wondered what she would say if she finally spoke for herself.
    “That would be good,” I said. “It’s a real small church, but I have seen a couple of kids there. It’s not like you have to join a youth group or anything.”
    “Unless she wants to,” Mallory said. Before we knew it she’d arranged to pick up Gemma-Kate the following night for a telescope party at St. Martin’s.
    With a my-work-is-done-here attitude, she hugged me and left in one of the few Jags I’ve ever seen in Tucson. Carlo stayed back to wash the plates and throw away the takeout containers while Gemma-Kate helped me give the Pugs their evening walk. We put on sweaters. In March after the sun went down a thick sweater felt good.
    The winter rains had been ample, and when we stepped out the front door a chorus of frogs somewhere, crazy to mate after long hibernation, made the neighborhood sound like an amphibian singles bar.
    Gemma-Kate didn’t object when I made her put on an LED light with an elastic headband. The beam ensured that if we heard a rattle we’d be able to see where it came from. It also allowed us to see where the Pugs pooped so we could pick it up.
    With a warning about snakes—“Keep a tight leash, GK”—we set out, a Pug apiece, the male stopping methodically to mark posts, plants, and patches of gravel.
    Gemma-Kate had been subdued, almost withdrawn, during the funeral days, but now she practically skipped down the sidewalk. While I was sure she must mourn the loss of her mother, I could understand how exhilarating it might feel to be liberated from illness and the rest of our family. Plus the wine, and moving in Mallory’s orbit, might have given her a double dose of perk.
    She was happy to answer my questions. Yes, she was interested in moving to entirely new surroundings. Yes, she was excited about starting classes at the university. Yes, she wanted to see the Grand Canyon.
    Knowing Gemma-Kate