The Mill River Recluse Read Online Free PDF Page B

husband, but her rest was wrought with vivid, piercing dreams. She was in the white marble mansion, walking up the stairs to check on Mrs. McAllister. The stairs went on and on, curving and twisting, and as she struggled to reach the top, she heard the old widow calling for help, calling out for her. She could see the bedroom at the top of the stairs, the light from inside leaking beneath the door. She climbed faster.
    “I’m coming, Mrs. McAllister,” Jean called in her sleep. “I’m almost there.” With superhuman strength, she vaulted the final four stairs and burst into the bedroom.
    The old woman was out of bed, standing at the window.
    “Mrs. McAllister, how did you get—“ Jean began, but she stopped speaking as the woman turned slowly to face her. The eye patch the widow usually wore was gone, revealing her cloudy, unseeing left eye.
    “I know you have it, Jean,” Mrs. McAllister said, shaking her head. “You’re too late.”
    “Oh, but Mrs. McAllister, I don’t, let me help you,” Jean stammered, rushing toward the frail widow, but before Jean could grab the old woman, she felt a strong hand gripping her own arm.
    “Jeanie, hey Jeanie, you’re dreaming. Wake up, hon.”
    She felt the hand shaking her now, and opened her eyes. Ron was sitting up in bed beside her.
    “Are you all right? You were thrashing around and yelling, having some sort of nightmare. Thought I’d rescue you.”
    “Sorry. Did I wake the kids?” Jean asked. Her heart was still beating heavily.
    “Nah. You yelling has never done much to get them up.”
    “Thanks a lot,” Jean said, playfully elbowing her husband. He grunted and lay back down on his pillow.
    “So, what were you dreaming about?” Ron mumbled.
    Jean thought of Mary McAllister’s sad face, her deliberate stare. Somehow, the old woman knew .
    “I don’t remember,” Jean said, but Ron was already snoring again.
    ~~~
    Leroy Underwood sat in his rusty 1986 Chevy Camaro in front of Claudia Simon’s house. The air inside the car reeked of smoke. Without taking his eyes off the teacher’s home, Leroy lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply. He had really become comfortable with this house-watching habit. Sit, smoke, relax. Hope to see Claudia. He pictured her wearing only her panties, waving to him from her brightly-lit bedroom window, inviting him inside.
    Frustrated, he took another drag on the cigarette. She was probably asleep, but even if she weren’t, the damned snow would prevent him from seeing her. His camera resting on the passenger’s seat would be useless tonight.
    Leroy pulled a cell phone from his pocket, dialed *67 to prevent his number from appearing on caller ID, and selected Claudia’s number from his electronic phonebook. Since he couldn’t see her, he decided to permit himself the occasional indulgence of hearing her voice. He felt his pulse quicken as he waited for the connection. Claudia anwered after the third ring.
    “Hello?” Her voice was soft and low, with just a touch of confusion. “Hello? Who’s there?”
    He held his breath until she hung up and then exhaled a long, steady stream of smoke.
    A part of him felt guilty for waking Claudia, but hearing her throaty voice only intensified his need for her. That voice, and the images of her that ran through his mind during these late-night spying sessions, sustained him. They also supplemented the real pictures of her that he had at home.
    Leroy sighed, started the engine, and twisted what was left of his cigarette into the ashtray.
    ~~~
    The alarm clock on his nightstand read 3:15 in the morning, but Father O’Brien was still awake. He turned over onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. In this position, he wouldn’t have to see the red digital glow of the clock as the minutes passed. He lay this way for almost half an hour, but it was no use. At 3:41, he climbed out of bed, put on his robe, and went into the dark living room.
    The furnishings were sparse. There was