Finding Claire Fletcher Read Online Free PDF Page A

very good criminal, Connor thought.
    Tom stared at Connor as though he’d shown up holding Claire’s decapitated head in one hand. “Claire,” Tom gasped.
    Finally Brianna’s eyes were on Connor, but he did not like the look of them at all. “Yeah,” Connor said. “Claire Fletcher. She gave me this address.”
    Tom’s hands flew to his chest. “When?”
    Connor shrugged. “Um, jeez, a few days ago. Wednesday, I think.”
    “That’s not possible,” Brianna said icily.
    “What?” Connor said.
    Tom stepped toward him, a look of wounded pity on his open face. “Connor—Mr. Parks, our sister disappeared ten years ago. She’s never been found.”

CHAPTER FIVE
     
    I woke to the insistent rattling of the trailer door. I rolled onto my back and nearly fell out of the bed. The flimsy door shimmied. I groaned and pushed a mass of tangled curls out of my face.
    The rattling changed to banging, only it sounded like the angry tink tink tink of someone flicking their finger against a tin can. That was not very far off. The trailer felt like a tin can. It was almost small enough to be a tin can.
    It was his gift to me. Pseudo-freedom. The trailer sat lopsided on a plot of unattractive land, overgrown with weeds like a carcass on the shoulder of the road. Still, it was mine. As much mine as anything could be while I was still his captive.
    Tinktinktink. Tinktinktink.
    I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. What would he do if I just didn’t answer? If I stayed inside the tin can trailer, tucked into my tiny bed, and never came out again? I could stay there. I would just stop getting up. Eventually I’d get hungry but I could take the hunger pangs. I was sure of that. I would only get up to pee until I was too weak from hunger to do so. Eventually I’d drift off to sleep and never wake up. It would be so easy. So blissfully easy.
    Except for him.
    I opened one eye and looked at the door, which rattled with a whole new intensity. The hinges wouldn’t hold much longer. I got up and wrapped my robe around me, hugging the lapels to my chest.
    I opened the door, and without a word, he stepped past me. I waited as he searched the trailer. It didn’t take long.
    “There’s no one here,” I said flatly.
    He stood in the middle of the trailer, in my combination kitchen/dining area and glared at me. His fists were clenched at his sides and his steel-wool eyes bore into me.
    “Why was the door locked?” he asked.
    As always, his tone was calm, matter-of-fact, as if he were asking merely out of concern or curiosity. But there was a disturbing edge to his face. A nebulous tension surrounded his frame.
    I crossed my arms. “Because I don’t want some stranger walking in here while I’m asleep,” I said.
    “You mean you don’t want me walking in here,” he said, his voice betraying a hint of petulance.
    I rolled my eyes and plopped onto the couch, one leg folded beneath me. “What does it matter? I let you in, didn’t I?”
    “I have to be able to trust you, Lynn,” he said.
    I felt tired, so tired. “Well, you’re not in prison, are you?”
    He bristled but didn’t move toward me. “You were fifteen minutes late coming home last night.”
    “Oh my God. You woke me up at six a.m. because I was fifteen minutes late getting home from work? You’re fucking crazy. Why don’t you just go home to your little pet and fuck with her head some more?”
    Slowly, he sat beside me, arranging himself carefully. He tangled a hand in the curls behind my head. Then he jerked my head back. I gasped and reached for him, but he quickly wrapped his other hand around my throat. I winced as he applied pressure. My windpipe sagged beneath his grip.
    “Lynnie,” he said softly, his voice calm, even, almost soothing. “You know Daddy doesn’t like it when you talk that way. So be a good girl.” He squeezed harder. My eyes watered. “You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”
    I did my best to nod. “Good. Cause you know what