Haunting Ellie Read Online Free PDF Page A

black-and-white tile floor, but he gave little thought to the mess. He wanted to get upstairs. He needed clay in his fingers, something tangible to bear the brunt of his anger and frustration.
    He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a can of Budweiser, and mounted the narrow circular stairs that led to his studio.
    On a good day, blue sky and sunshine would have radiated through the two-by-six windows that circled the turret, but today only filtered light broke through the stormy gray sky. Jon preferred working by natural light, but he flipped one of the switches and filled the room with the best lighting money could buy.
    He took a mound of clay from the refrigerator where he stored his supply and circled the room like a caged animal, digging his fingers into the cold, pliable clay, squeezing it, twisting it, until he’d created nothing more than a grotesque, two-faced abstract of a woman, sweet on one side, cunning on the other. He stopped at his workbench and slammed the clay into the wood. Damn! Picturing the woman that way didn’t make him feel better at all.
    He grabbed a charcoal pencil and a sketch pad. He thumbed through the pages until he found a clean sheet, dragged a wooden stool over to the window on the west side of the tower, and straddled the seat.
    He looked down on the town, at the old hotel, at the windows filled with light. And he began to sketch what he’d seen, and what he imagined had been hidden behind that furry parka. Charcoal curves instantly appeared. Breasts full and round, a tapered waist, and hips made the way any man in his right mind would have made them—padded for comfort. Blue-black hair, shiny as a raven in the sunlight, trailed over one shoulder, the braid heavy and thick and curled at the end, where it grazed her waist. He penciled in high cheekbones, large, dark eyes, and thick, sensual lashes he knew would lie gently on her fair skin when she slept. And plump red lips that...
    The blaring ring of the phone snapped him away from the sketch, away from the beauty he couldn’t get out of his head. Stalking across the hard oak floor, he dropped the pad on his drafting table and grabbed the phone. “Hello.” Annoyance rang loud and clear in his voice.
    “Sorry to disturb you, Jon.”
    Andy Andrews never imposed or disturbed anyone unless it was important. “What is it?” Jon asked.
    “Harry found a bear and her cub yesterday,” Andy said slowly. “Their paws and gallbladders were gone.”
    Jon closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. “Where?”
    Only a slight static sounded through the phone. Andy was hesitating for some reason, but finally he answered. “Schoolmarm Gulch.”
    “Damn!” The charcoal pencil snapped in half from the pressure of Jon’s fingers. “Any sign of the other cub?”
    “No. Harry checked the den, but nothing. Sorry I had to tell you, Jon, but I knew you’d been watching them last fall.”
    “Spring and summer, too.” Jon sifted through a pile of sketches lying on his drafting table. He stopped when he reached the ones he’d done of the black bear and her cubs shortly before they’d gone into hiding in early winter. It wasn’t the first time a slaughter like this had happened, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. But it didn’t make their deaths any easier to accept.
    “I suppose Harry’s going to look for the other cub?” Jon asked.
    “Guess so. I’m having dinner with him at the Tin Cup tonight. Want to join us?”
    “Yeah. Might as well see if I can help him in the search.”
    Jon heard Andy clear his throat. The man was a rancher and had done his fair share of killing to protect his livestock and hunting to stock his freezer. But senseless murder didn’t set any better with Andy than it did with Jon. “See you around seven,” Andy said.
    Jon heard the click and dial tone and hung up, but he stared at the phone for several more moments, then lifted it again and punched in a number he knew as well as his own.
    He listened to the