High-Risk Fever Read Online Free PDF Page A

deep inside? She buried her face in the pillow.
    Brian opened the door to the hall. “Here you are. Sweatpants, pullovers…and for the night, blankets.”
    “Thanks.” Todd’s voice.
    “Made of the finest wool in the Alps. With the power off, it will be a cold night. We’ll light the fireplace in the morning, but in the meantime….”
    “Thank you, that’s very kind.”
    “Good night, then.”
    “Good night. See you tomorrow.”
    “Yeah.”
    The door closed. Brian gave a loud sigh, turned off the flashlight, and put it atop a small table on his side of the bed. In the dark, he undressed quietly and snuck under the sheets, his weight making the mattress sink. He wasn’t lying near enough to touch her body—just stretched his long legs and yawned.
    Eyes closed, faking regular breathing, she pretended to be sound asleep.
    Yet, in spite of her exhaustion, she lay awake for a long moment, listening to the hammering rain on the roof and playful wind gusts toying with the shutters. When would the storm end?
    Brian’s low, monotonous snoring rose next to her.
    She remembered her grandmother talking about her own wedding night, how she almost regretted marrying her husband because he snored so loud he kept her awake at night. They’d ended up sleeping in separate rooms. Thankfully, Brian’s heavy breathing never bothered Anne, and she enjoyed the company of his warm body in bed.
    She tried to relax and prepare for sleep, but, instead, one by one, memories from the eventful day with the bicyclists popped into her mind, haunting her. Annoyed, she pushed them aside and focused on bringing forth childhood images. As an only child, she’d gotten plenty of attention from all family members, grandparents and aunties included, and had grown up a happy little girl. She’d done well at school, too, and always had enough friends to not feel lonely.
    Some people excused their indecent behavior as adults with deprivations from the past, as if an unhappy childhood entitled them to push moral boundaries later in life in order to feel fulfilled. But that wasn’t the case with Anne.
    Besides, she loved her husband and ached at the thought of having violated his confidence, if only in her mind. Would she be able to live with herself if her adulterous thoughts escalated to actual cheating?
    Of course not. It was her duty to protect him at all cost. He’d do the same for her.
    In order to restore peace of mind, she made a solemn promise: no matter how long Micaela stayed here or the temptations he offered her, she would be strong and, with her head kept high, stay loyal to her marital bond.
    She was exhausted. And, damn, how thirst scratched at her throat. She should have had a glass of water before going to bed.
    She slid out of the sheets with one ear focused on Brian’s regular snoring. Holding her breath, careful to not make the mattress move, she crept out of bed, centimeter by centimeter, until both feet stood on the soft, woolen carpet.
    She paused. What if she woke the bicyclists in the living room?
    No, she knew the house inside out and wouldn’t make a sound. It wasn’t the first time she’d tiptoed through the place at night.
    Blinded by the dark, she felt around for clothes. Cool air from the badly sealed window brushed her naked skin. Outside, the heavy rain clattered on.
    She found a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt and put them on. Opening the bedroom door, she slipped into the blackened hall, her naked feet treading on cold floorboards. Like Brian a half-hour earlier, she put her hands on the paneled wall to let it guide her.
    The four other rooms were quiet. At the end of the hall, dim light from the first floor illuminated in the stairs…and the acrid scent of burning candle drifted to her nostrils, together with the sour-sweet sharpness of alcohol. How odd. Had the bicyclists been drinking?
    She reached the staircase. Low chuckles from below made her heart skip a beat. She froze and held her breath.