Shrouded in Darkness (Shrouded Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

short, left the Hideaway and Joyce, and drove home. She wasn’t up to acting jovial, and she didn’t want to drag Joyce’s mood down with hers.
    Time. Margot tightened her grip on the steering wheel. People told her that was the only thing that really helped after the death of a loved one. But she didn’t care about time or tomorrow. She hadn’t for a while.
    Granted, she liked her job, her Internet bookstore and converting books to electronic formats and everything that went with it.
    She’d never go back to being a corporate lawyer. The competition, the grueling hours and everything it entailed had chewed her up and spat her out until she no longer had anything to give.
    Margot turned off the main highway, guided the car along a narrow paved road and up a long, crooked driveway. Her large, two-story, red brick house, draped in deep shadow sat on top of the hill. Its Queen Anne-styled tower jutted fiercely up into the night sky, while windows, black, empty, and lifeless, stared back at her. Not exactly the most welcoming sight, but it was home and had been off and on for the last twenty-eight years. And now with Johnny gone, every inch of it was all hers—from the wrap-around porch and gingerbread trim to the high-pitched roof.
    Two years ago, she’d returned to this place for good. She’d come here to get her life back together again after losing her job and divorcing her husband. Some might say she came here to hide, but Margot would be quick to argue.
    The moment Margot stepped into the house, closed and locked the front door, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. In the foyer, she could almost feel the physical touch of someone’s eyes on her from the darkness, so strong was the sensation.
    Heartbeat breaking into a gallop, Margot reached for the switch to the hall light, but paused and swore under her breath. The stupid thing didn’t work.
    Awareness still prickled against her skin. Frozen, yet poised for flight, she peered down the hall. Nothing separated from the thick shadows, while the only sound was that of her short, ragged breathing.
    No. Not again. She couldn’t handle this feeling of being watched.
    “Jake?” she called, even knowing he wouldn’t answer. He was out for the evening. The reason why she’d left the house in the first place, unable to remain inside with only herself for company.
    No one was there. At least no one human, Margot decided as she ventured further into the house. The heels of her boots echoed against the wood floor.
    “Johnny? Is that you?” Then she realized the craziness of the question and mentally shook herself. “Enough.”
    She squared her shoulders, pulled her boots off, and hung her jacket in the closet. “Ghosts, Margot? Now really. You’re losing it.”
    Needing a drink, Margot strode into the kitchen and turned on the light. She hated the tremble in her hand as she pulled a new bottle of red wine from the small wine rack on top of the counter. She’d had water at dinner, knowing how much Joyce would protest if she’d gotten anything stronger. After she took several deep swallows of wine, the shaking eased somewhat. Only when she refilled her glass, corked the bottle and slid it across the counter to butt up against the wall, did she dare look back out into the hall.
    Empty.
    What had she expected? Or should she say who? Johnny? Margot laughed shakily. “You’re becoming one of those hysterical females. The type you loathe in those old horror movies.”
    Talking aloud didn’t calm her nerves much. Not even the wine helped tonight. Work. Maybe that would do the job. Glass in hand, Margot hurried into the den and turned on the MP3 player to the soothing strains of Jewel—anything to keep the house’s suffocating silence at bay.
    Then she remembered Mark and the cookbook. She walked over to the shelf along the room’s far corner and ran a finger across the microwave books, past copies of Betty Crocker, Jewish American and Old Settlers