The Drifter Read Online Free PDF

…
    â€œCome into the village with me.” Mrs. Baxter appeared in the doorway, and Carolyn jumped. “Sorry—didn’t mean to scare you!”
    Carolyn gave a wan smile and shook her head. “I think I’ll hang around here. Check out the new surroundings.”
    Mrs. Baxter glanced toward the window and nodded. “Just be careful; you heard what Nora said about the cliffs being so close. If I’m lucky, I’ll bring back groceries and some gossip.”
    â€œ If you can get anyone to talk to you,” Carolyn said.
    â€œWell, surely they can’t all be like Nora.” Her mother looked alarmed. “Can they?”
    She didn’t wait for an answer. She waved goodbye, and several minutes later Carolyn heard the front door slam.
    The house surged with emptiness.
    Only the whine of the wind kept her company now … gnawing at every crack … scratching at every windowpane.
    Carolyn tried to shut out the desolate sounds. She stood up and began pulling clothes from her suitcase.
    â€œYou’ve already talked yourself into a nightmare,” she grumbled. “Don’t talk yourself into anything else.”
    She groaned when she saw what she’d brought. Shorts, mostly, and sleeveless tops and her swimsuit and two pairs of sandals. Well, we were going to the beach, weren’t we — how was I supposed to know it was the beach at the end of the world? Irritated, she crammed her clothes into a dresser drawer and slipped into the jeans and sweatshirt she’d worn yesterday. The movers wouldn’t be here for a few days, but maybe there were some clothes of Hazel’s that might fit her.
    It made her nervous, walking past all the sheet-shrouded bedrooms. She half expected some ancient body to be laid out on one of the beds, and every time the house creaked, her heart skipped a beat. She went through every cupboard, every trunk and armoire and bureau in record time, but didn’t find anything she could wear. Hazel’s wardrobe consisted of frilly, spinsterish things, and each time Carolyn pulled something out to inspect it, she felt like a little girl playing dress-up. After much searching, she finally discovered a closet beneath the staircase, but to her annoyance it only contained empty handbags, bottles of medicine, and an overpowering smell of cedar chips and mothballs.
    Wrinkling her nose, Carolyn stepped back and started to shut the door, when her sleeve caught on one of the rickety shelves. She twisted around to jerk free, when without warning the whole shelf pulled away from the wall and crashed to the floor at her feet.
    Carolyn surveyed the mess in dismay. Broken bottles oozed syrupy liquids across the floor, and pills scattered everywhere. She picked up the broken glass, then leaned forward to study the inside of the closet. It was obvious the wood had begun to rot away, and as she dug one finger against the ledge where the shelf had rested, Carolyn felt something small and thin buried there beneath a heavy layer of dust.
    She pinched it between her fingertips and pulled it out, holding it up to the light.
    A key.
    At one time it must have been tossed inside where it somehow managed to slip down between the shelf and the wall, finally ending up trapped upon the narrow ledge. No telling how long it’s been there … or what it was used for . Carolyn was disappointed. She started to flip it onto another shelf, when a new thought made her stop and reconsider.
    A key to the attic door?
    With a little thrill of excitement, she hurried upstairs and tried to force the key into the lock at the end of the hall. The fit wasn’t even close, and after a few minutes of trying, Carolyn gave up and shoved the key into the pocket of her jeans. She’d have to ask Nora about it later, but right now there was work to do.
    Carolyn hardly knew where to start. For several minutes she stood in the back bedroom, and then she just as grimly began yanking