To Hell in a Handbasket Read Online Free PDF Page B

“I’d like to stay here today, if you’ll have me, to help with the . . . arrangements.”
    Proud of Judy’s initiative and willingness to help, Claire gave her daughter a warm smile. A worrying thought struck her. Judy was acting like a daughter-in-law, volunteering to take on such a large role in Stephanie’s funeral arrangements. Was she that serious with Nick? Cut it out, Claire. Be glad she’s assisting Angela in some way. God knows the woman needs it.
    â€œThank you, Judy. I’d appreciate that. It’s all rather overwhelming.” After giving Judy a sad smile, Angela turned to Roger and Claire. “We want to have the service here, rather than in Denver. Stephanie loved the mountains, and—” Her voice caught, and her hand went to her mouth.
    Nick finished for her. “We plan to spread her ashes somewhere in the mountains.”
    Claire gave Angela a hug, quick enough to prevent another onslaught of tears. “We’d like to come to the memorial service.”
    Angela nodded.
    Anthony escorted Claire and Roger to the door and gave Roger a stiff handshake. While they walked to their car, Claire hunched her jacket around her chilled neck and reviewed the conversa tion
in her mind. Something troubled her. Nick and Anthony’s strange reactions to the possibility that the skier had deliberately hit Stephanie.
    What are they afraid of ?
    _____
    Hours later, exhausted after hunting for the snowboarder on the ski slopes, Claire lay on one side of the L-shaped sofa in the living room of their rented townhouse. She groaned and stretched her sore muscles. Roger lay on the other side, nursing a beer. They had stripped off their outer ski clothing and sweaters, so they lounged in turtlenecks, long underwear bottoms, and slouched ski socks.
    As the waning afternoon sun threw long shadows across the floor, Roger asked, “Who’s getting up for the ibuprofen?”
    â€œI guess I will.” With a grunt, Claire pushed herself to her feet, staggered a bit until her stiff legs remembered how to walk, then padded upstairs to the bedroom. She returned with the bottle and passed it to Roger before plopping down on the sofa again. After swallowing two pills with some water, she said, “I wish we’d spotted that snowboarder.”
    â€œHe’s probably lying low or boarding at another Summit County resort,” Roger said. “Especially if he or one of his buddies saw the signs the ski patrol posted.”
    â€œEither that or he could’ve been here for the day from some where on the Front Range, Denver, Boulder, or Colorado Springs— like us.”
    â€œOn a Monday? I don’t think so. A weekend day, maybe. I bet he’s a local or he’s here for a week or two, like us.”
    â€œSo there’s a chance we’ll still find him.”
    Roger took another sip of beer. “He moved like someone hooked on snowboarding. I doubt he’ll give up more than a day or two of it, especially if he’s here on vacation. He’ll probably ditch the goofy hat, though.”
    â€œBut not his board, unless it was a rental. I remember that swirly orange pattern.” Claire rested her head against the sofa back. “I hope we find him. I want to do something for the Continos. I feel so helpless.”
    The front door opened and Judy walked in. Her gaze swept over her parents sprawled on the sofa, and she cracked a wry grin. “Don’t you two look attractive.”
    Claire sat up and peered beyond Judy. “Is Nick coming in? I’ll change into sweats if he is.”
    â€œNo, he just dropped me off. They still need to contact some more relatives.” Judy shucked off her coat, slid onto a barstool next to the kitchen counter, and leaned her chin on her hand.
    Claire studied her daughter’s face. Judy looked tired, sad, and blotchy, as if she had done some crying.
    â€œPoor Mrs. Contino,” Judy said.