Snowbound Read Online Free PDF

sat her up in bed. In the blue glow of the night-light, he watched her eyes open slowly.
    She looked around the room, then looked at her father. “Where’s Mom?”
    “She isn’t here, honey. Now listen, this is important. We’re gonna get you dressed now.”
    “But it isn’t morning yet.”
    “I know. We’re going on a special trip.”
    “Where?”
    “No more questions.”
    In the darkness, Will helped his daughter dress.
    “I’m going to carry you,” he said. “I need you to be very quiet. Don’t make a sound.”
    He picked her up, walked to the bedroom door, and slowly pulled it open. The hallway was dark, quiet. He crept down it, heard Rachael’s mother snoring in the guest room.
    Rachael’s sister, Elise, was asleep on the sofa in the den. The creak of the front door opening made her shift, but she didn’t wake.
    Three A.M. is one of the few comfortable hours in Ajo in the summertime, a cool, fleeting reprieve. The Beamer’s trunk was already packed with suitcases. Will put Devlin in the front seat, buckled her in. He climbed behind the wheel, shifted into neutral, let the car roll silently to the end of the driveway before shoving the key into the ignition.
    “Where are we going, Daddy?” Will looked at his daughter, shook his head in disbelief at all that had changed in twenty-four hours, at how quickly, when the wrong stars align, it all comes apart.
You will not die alone.
    “I don’t know yet,” he said. And he turned the key and put the car into gear, driving slowly and without headlights through the subdivision.
    The highway north out of Ajo was empty and shining in the moonlight. Aside from his wallet and a suitcase of clothes, he’d taken only one other thing—Rachael’s college sweatshirt.
    They would not see their home again.

10

Two days later, Rachael awoke on a small, hard mattress. She sat up in a tiny room, barely the size of a walk-in closet, and illuminated by only a single bare lightbulb that swung from the ceiling.
    Her head pounded and her mouth was dry, but she felt alert again.
    The walls and the floor were covered in thick yellow foam. She saw five jugs of water in a corner, and beside them, a box filled with bags of potato chips, apples, candy bars, and packs of crackers. She heard a humming sound beyond the soundproofed walls.
    She stood up, found it difficult to keep her balance, as if the floor were shifting beneath her. She looked at the foam walls again and thought,
I’ve been committed. I imagined the kidnapping. The crowbar through the window. I’ve gone mad.
    Rachael grabbed a jug of water and carried it back over to the mattress. She sat down and took a long drink, wondering if they were watching her right now.
    But if I’m in the asylum, why am I still wearing this black suit?
    There came a sudden blast that sounded vaguely like a foghorn. It blew once more, and as she considered it, there was something about the constant humming that unnerved her, and the way this place shifted beneath her. She looked up at the ceiling. No soundproofing foam there. Just shiny metal. And the dimensions of the room suddenly made perfect sense. So did the subtle rocking movement, the humming, the low drone, the horn.
This isn’t a psych ward. I’m in the trailer of an eighteen-wheeler.
    She wept, and her body shook with tremors.

Ghosts Present

Ghosts Present

11

The man who was now Joe Foster floored the old Chevy down the hill into town. It was mid-October, the Colorado sky blue-screen blue, fresh snow gleaming above twelve thousand feet in the La Platas, the aspen and cottonwoods turning gold across the foothills. Five miles west, the profile of Mesa Verde shimmered in the Friday-afternoon sunlight. He could see the glint of cars crawling south on the high road that snaked through the park.
    He drove into the small town of Mancos, pulled his pickup over to the curb, and cut the engine. It was still a few minutes shy of 3:00 P.M. and so quiet inside the truck, he could