Scaredy Cat Read Online Free PDF

opportunity would present itself, but could she take it? Could she jump?
    The monster would never let her go. She’d seen too much. Days were spent with her wondering when it would be her turn. When would Celery decide to cut her throat as he’d done to so many others? Carrot stared at the churning waters below. If she died, would it not be better at her own hand? Quick and painless, unlike what she had seen of Celery’s victims who lingered and suffered.
    She was a strong swimmer, and already she could see the shoreline of Cozumel. Her hands were wet with sweat as she gripped the railing, her teeth hurt from being clenched. Do or die, maybe just die. Carrot clamped her hands over her mouth when a hysterical giggle bubbled from deep within and passed her lips before she could restrain it. She turned slowly, her heart pounding with expectation of finding Celery’s dark eyes upon her.
    He slept. The great engines slowed, and she leapt.
    Blake switched screens and searched the Internet for a cruise ship and stared at a picture in disgust. She flipped from one to another and realized that all the balconies were on the upper floors. Carrot would’ve surely died jumping from that height.
    “I’m sightless, completely blind,” she lamented aloud. She turned and stared at the muted TV. There was a woman on a stage apparently arguing with another. Spittle flew, fingers were pointed, then one ripped open her own shirt, her breasts hidden behind a censor box. “Now that is some scary shit.”

Chapter 6

    “Good morning. Are you ready to—” Quinn’s gaze swept over Blake’s black pants, shirt, and shoes. “What’re you wearing?”
    Blake looked down at her outfit, then back at Quinn. “Obviously, something inappropriate, judging by the look on your face. The bird is back. Come inside, please.” Blake slammed the door when Quinn stepped over the threshold. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
    “It looks hot and not in that crazy sexy kind of way. I mean heat hot. It’s kind of the fall season everywhere else, but in South Louisiana, we wear shorts almost up to Thanksgiving. Don’t you have any?”
    “I don’t wear shorts.”
    “Ever?” Quinn asked in surprise.
    “Never.”
    “What do you sleep in?”
    “That’s a personal question.”
    “Okay,” Quinn said slowly. “Do you have a short-sleeved shirt that isn’t black?”
    “Cassidy says I should wear clothes that match the persona that she’s trying to cultivate.”
    “Are you recognized often when you go out in public?”
    Blake shook her head. “I don’t go out that much, but the few times I have, no one seemed to.”
    “Then why are you worried?”
    Blake threw up her hands. “I wasn’t until you said something.”
    Quinn rolled her eyes. “I mean, why are you wearing the black then? Wear something cool and comfortable.”
    Blake huffed and pointed to the kitchen as she walked toward the bedroom. “Coffee’s made.”
    “Do you mind if I just grab a Dew?” Quinn called after her.
    “Help yourself,” Blake said, then a door closed.
    Quinn opened the stuffed refrigerator and pulled out a soda. She returned to the living room and glanced at the computer in the corner. It was on, and there was something on the screen. She moved closer to it and asked loudly, “Is this your next book?” There was no reply, so she took a quick peek.
    Quinn stared at the opening that led beneath the house as a foreboding swept through her.
    “That’s the only way you can get in,” Glenda explained. “My husband, God rest his soul, had it enclosed to keep animals from getting under the house. A raccoon built a nest there once and made a terrible mess.”
    Quinn felt a trickle of sweat slip down her spine as she took out her flashlight. The air coming in from the door smelled stale with a hint of decay. She suspected that despite the effort, something had gotten in and had died. She took a breath and steeled her nerves as she slipped down into the