Final Assignment: A Promise Falls Novella Read Online Free PDF Page A

other.’
    Greta looked desperately at her husband. ‘Can we get them back?’
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘The horse is gone from the barn.’
    ‘What?’ she said.
    ‘Never mind.’ Malcolm looked at me. ‘Why did you wait so long to tell us this?’
    I dodged by asking Chandler, ‘When was the last time you spoke to Mike?’
    ‘No, hold on,’ Malcolm said. ‘On whose behalf are you acting right now? Are you working for us? Are you working for the police?’
    ‘I’m trying to find out what happened,’ I said. ‘The Vaughns asked for my help in finding their son. While I was at their house, the police showed up.’
    ‘That doesn’t answer my question,’ Malcolm Carson said.
    ‘No,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t. I’m not officially working for anyone. But what I learn may end up helping both you and the Vaughns in what steps you take next. If Chandler had something to do with what happened to Mike, you’ll know enough to get on the phone to your lawyer.’
    ‘I didn’t do anything to Mike!’ Chandler said.
    ‘So tell me when you last communicated with him,’ I said.
    ‘I told you. Yesterday.’ His eyes were starting to brim with tears. ‘This is awful. I can’t believe it.’
    ‘When yesterday?’ I asked.
    ‘Maybe before dinner, something like that.’
    ‘What about later?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You didn’t meet up with him? Get together someplace?’
    ‘That’s not possible,’ Greta said.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Chandler was here,’ she said. ‘In the house. Malcolm and I told him he wasn’t going anywhere until we’d sorted out this issue with the school.’
    ‘And the first thing she thought of was to hire you,’ Malcolm said derisively. ‘Nothing against you, Mr Weaver. It’s just not the first thing
I’d
have thought of.’
    ‘Oh, and what would
you
have done?’ Greta asked, turning on him.
    ‘I’d’ve asked the same damn questions the school did. Why the hell is he writing something like that in the first—’
    ‘Enough,’ I said. ‘Let’s get back to Chandler’s whereabouts. So you can say absolutely that he was here from when you got home from the school yesterday right up to this moment?’
    Everyone exchanged glances. ‘Pretty much,’ Malcolm said.
    ‘What does that mean?’
    ‘He was here, that’s all there is to it,’ Greta said.
    I looked at Chandler, daring him to avert his eyes. ‘Did you leave the house at all last night, with or without your parents’ knowledge? Did you sneak out after they were asleep?’
    His hesitation was all his parents needed to pounce.
    ‘What did you do?’ his father asked.
    ‘Where did you go?’ Greta asked. ‘Oh God, you left the house?’
    ‘Only for a little while,’ he said.
    I was about to ask Chandler how and when he had slipped out unnoticed by his parents when the doorbell rang.

Six
    Greta and Malcolm Carson exchanged looks of sheer panic. I think we all figured the police had arrived. The doorbell seemed to have paralyzed them, so I got up and answered it myself, expecting to come face to face with Barry Duckworth.
    It was not Barry.
    Standing on the front step was a woman, looking at me through wire-framed oval glasses. Good-looking, mid thirties, straight brown shoulder-length hair, almost as tall as me, and I’m just under six feet. She had an athletic bearing about her, and was dressed in black slacks and a blue sweater with an elaborate puffy collar, a long-strapped purse slung over one shoulder.
    ‘Mr Carson?’ she said.
    ‘No. My name’s Cal Weaver.’
    ‘Oh, well I’m here to see Chandler’s parents.’
    ‘Who should I say’s here?’
    ‘Lucy Brighton.’
    I recognized the name. One of the school officials who’d been at the meeting to discuss Chandler’s story. The head of the guidance department.
    She said, ‘I came by to—’
    ‘Oh great,’ said Greta, who’d been listening from the couch.
    Lucy leaned her head in far enough to see into the living room.
    ‘Hello, Ms Carson,’ she said.