In This Skin Read Online Free PDF

card.
        Life treated some people worse than it did Benedict West. That guy with the stammer had taken a hell of a beating earlier. A doctor really should check him out. Benedict would ease his conscience a hell of a lot by returning the wallet to the guy in the morning. What's more, he could satisfy himself the man hadn't suffered any life-threatening injuries.
        But first… sweet Jesus… he needed that hot soak.
        

CHAPTER 3
        
        Robyn Vincent's sleep was a restless one. The hot breeze tugged at the blind, swinging the weighted chord so it tapped the glass. With the window open, street sounds were louder than usual. Cars, trucks, the rumble of distant goods trains, a sighing whine of aircraft far away Somewhere down on the sidewalk a man laughed. Maybe a prowling madman, because he gave a burst of chuckling laughter every twenty minutes.
        Earlier she'd been afraid that he was down there on the lawn. Only if there were a madcap intruder, he'd have triggered the security lights that guarded the large house. He must be outside the fence. Drunk, drugged or simply high on mania.
        She rolled around on the bed. Perspiration dampened her hair. The weight on the cord rapped the window like tapping fingers trying to attract her attention or drive her insane-or both.
        Robyn swooped in and out of sleep. One minute she'd be staring at the play of shadows roaming across her ceiling and trying not to match mental images to the spanking sounds from the next room, while no doubt… Ugh. Don't go there, Robyn, she told herself. The next minute she'd be asleep. Then dreams erupted with a blazing ferocity. They were as unsettling as the night sounds that tormented her. She dreamt she ran along a river that vanished into a wood. There, trees were twisted, ugly things where toadstools formed weird growths on the branches. She saw the toadstools swell with lumps that split open to reveal glistening eyes that watched her as she ran past.
        Deep in the wood she found a clearing. In it were dozens of figures.
        They were waiting for her, she knew it. She paused at the edge of the clearing, staring at the people assembled there. Her first thought was:
        They're all dead. But they were staring at her with bulging eyes. Their mouths were open as if frozen in screams of pain or terror. Even though they were still, as if carved from stone, she knew they were alive somehow. Only they couldn't move.
        She walked toward them.
        Oh, God. She swallowed down a ball of vomit that had suddenly pushed up into her throat. What was wrong with those people? They'd all been twisted out of shape. Their necks were too long, their torsos were elongated, then twisted. Arms were longer than bodies. Faces were wrangled into monstrous shapes. Bottom lips became swollen red dripping things that hung down onto their chests…
        Her instinct had been to turn and get away from there. But as she ran she found herself running toward them. A desperate, headlong run. As if the most important thing in the world was for her to reach them and…
        The snap of the blind woke her with a start. The breeze must have been strong enough to spring the mechanism and the whole thing had rattled furiously up onto the roller. Outside the madman laughed. A train sounded its horn on the track; a forlorn sound, so mournful and tragic that Robyn felt a wave of sadness rise through her so powerfully tears sprang in her eyes.
        My God. For some reason I can't stomach the idea of Noel making love to me. Now I'm having nightmares and crying without knowing why. Had she lost her mind? Was that it? Had madness taken root inside her brain?
        
***
        
        Benedict woke at three in the morning, just as on the other side of the city Robyn Vincent lay perspiring on her bed. He opened his eyes, running the hypnotic line through his head: We are nothing. Less than nothing and