Wildwood (YA Paranormal Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page B

his throat. He didn't want to bump into possible bullies in a deserted place like this.
    Then a flash of gold winked among the green leaves. Todd crouched, peering through the undergrowth. There it was again—movement, a pale shape darting between the trees. Todd walked closer to the Turpins' cottage and hid behind a tree trunk to keep watch. After a few moments, Marigold ran out of the woods. She unlatched the gate at the bottom of the back garden, cast a nervous glance over her shoulder, then ran towards the cottage.
    What was Marigold doing with guys like that, if that's who she'd been with? While Todd leaned against the tree thinking, Picasso snuffled around, following a scent trail to the cliff's edge. Todd grabbed the dog's collar and dragged him back. The last thing he wanted was for the poor old mutt to chase his nose over the cliff. Picasso resisted, pulling surprisingly hard to get back to the edge.
    "Hey, you silly old thing, you don't want to go diving today." Picasso whined, his claws scrabbling on the stony path as he fought to get away.
    Todd dug in his pocket for the leash and snapped the clip on Picasso's collar. Grabbing a stunted hawthorn to anchor himself, he allowed the dog a few feet closer to the cliff's edge, hoping that if he reached the scent he was after, he would calm down. The dog pressed his nose to a scuff mark in the wiry grass on the lip of rock. Todd's hunter's senses burst to life, warning of danger. A cold slither of premonition raised goose bumps on his arms.
    After winding Picasso's leash around his hand to keep it short and tight, Todd lay on his belly and peered down the vertical rock face to the sea, about two hundred feet below.
    Caught on jagged rocks, partly obscured by seaweed, lay a body. Todd's fingernails raked the dirt as he leaned out farther to get a better look. Picasso pulled on the lead. Todd shouted at the dog to be still, and he obeyed, instantly.
    The air grew tight in his lungs. His ears buzzed, and the burning taste of bile stung the back of his throat. There was no doubt about the victim's identity. Even from this far away, Todd clearly made out the body was clothed in jeans and a black leather jacket. For long moments, Todd stared mesmerized with horror. Now he knew why Andrew hadn't been around this morning. He'd never made it home last night. He must tell someone—tell Grandpa—immediately.
    Todd crept back from the edge, pulling Picasso with him. This time the dog didn't resist. As he sprinted down the cliff path, his lungs burning, he remembered the scenario he'd witnessed from his bedroom window: Kelvin Marks swearing and slamming his hand against the wall when Andrew ran away.
    Todd had only seen Kelvin twice, and both times he'd been angry. He obviously had a temper he couldn't control. He must have caught up with Andrew on the coast path, and the rest was history. Todd would tell the police everything he'd seen and make sure Kelvin Marks paid for what he'd done.
    ***
    Late that afternoon, Todd stood beside Grandpa outside the shop, hands pushed deep in his pockets, watching the ambulance take Andrew's body away.
    He'd been buzzing after he sprinted back from the cliff and tugged Grandpa through to the living room to break the news about Andrew. Now he felt exhausted. They'd missed lunch and he should be hungry, but he couldn't imagine eating anything. The hollow place inside him couldn't be filled by food.
    The police had arrived quickly after Grandpa raised the alarm. The Air-Sea rescue airlifted the body up from the beach by helicopter. Todd hadn't been allowed to go out again, so he watched the helicopter from the conservatory overlooking the harbor. But he missed most of the action while a policewoman interviewed him in Grandpa's living room.
    He had related everything he'd seen, precisely, in chronological order. She had tried to keep her expression noncommittal, but Todd could tell she thought Kelvin was guilty by the way she pressed her lips