Waiting For Ethan Read Online Free PDF Page B

Only two other vehicles remain. They are both SUVs that will have no problem negotiating the snowy roads. My sporty little Mazda, on the other hand, was not designed to be driven in conditions like this. It’s supposed to be driven with the top down on a road that parallels the ocean.
    I hear a beep , like someone is unlocking a car, but I don’t see anyone. A moment later, one of the SUVs in the parking lot starts. There is still not another soul around. A few minutes later, as I remove the last of the snow from my car, I see a short man wearing a pea coat and gray floppy ski hat walk out of the building. As he gets closer to the running SUV, I realize it’s Cooper Allen. He sees me and freezes in his tracks. He doesn’t wave. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares. Most of the analysts don’t have great social skills. I wave, and he approaches me.
    â€œYou’re not going to try to drive that in these conditions?” He points to my car, which is quickly getting covered in snow again. “You’ll never get out of the parking lot.” The analysts are paid a lot of money to have opinions and are therefore never shy about expressing them. “You should have left hours ago. What were you thinking?”
    They are also pompous and condescending. I really don’t enjoy talking to most of them. “I was thinking I had to finish editing your report.”
    He kicks at the snow on the ground with his boots. “So this is my fault?”
    â€œThere’s no fault to be had. There’s nothing wrong.”
    â€œI’ll give you a ride.” He takes a few steps toward his SUV. “Come on.”
    Honestly, I’d rather walk than be stuck in a vehicle with an analyst, so I ignore him and get in my car, intending to drive away, but my wheels just spin and the car doesn’t move. Cooper watches with his arms folded across his chest and a smug look on his face. I’ll be damned if I let him give me a ride home. He’ll probably lecture me the entire way about how impractical my convertible is. I turn the steering wheel a few times, and the car lurches forward. I wave to Cooper and make my way to the exit.
    My two-mile drive to Route 128 takes fifty-two minutes, and the highway is no better. In addition to worrying about maintaining traction in the snow, I have to dodge abandoned cars. A little less than an hour later, I barely make it off the exit ramp. The last several miles of my commute are on surface roads flanked with mini-malls and restaurants. Usually lines of slow-moving traffic clog these roads, but today the streets are eerily quiet. I drive for a minute or so before meeting a steep incline. My car gets stuck near the very start of the climb. I press on the gas and can feel the wheels spinning fiercely on the snow and ice without making contact with the pavement. I try everything, but the car only slides sideways. I see one other car on the road now, a black SUV behind me. The driver leans on the horn and maneuvers around me.
    During the next fifteen minutes, only two other vehicles drive by, but neither driver looks in my direction. I take out my cell phone and try to figure out who to call. None of my friends live close by, though. For a moment, I wonder if I could possibly walk the rest of the way, but then I notice how loud the wind is howling and immediately decide against it. Five minutes later, a blue Jeep Cherokee going the other direction drives past. I make eye contact with the driver. A few moments later, the same Jeep pulls in behind me. A man wearing a dark skullcap, gray sweatshirt, and big black gloves runs with his head down toward my car. As he gets closer, I notice big red stains that look like blood on his sweatshirt. He knocks on my window. I am debating whether I should lower it when he opens my car door. In my head, I hear my mother’s voice telling me to always lock my car doors.
    The slow-falling big snowflakes from earlier in