AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What’s wrong?” Laying the back of her hand at Annie’s damp forehead, Jolie regarded her thoughtfully. “Do you feel as if you’re coming down with the flu?”
Annie pulled away. “No. I just want to go home.Please.”
“Do you hurt anywhere?” Matt asked.
“I just want to go home and lie down. I could go by myself.”
Matt gave Jolie an apologetic look over Charlie’s head. “Sorry to leave you so soon, but I guess we’d better get going. Thanks for a wonderful supper.”
“Thank you,” Annie dutifully chimed in.
An arm slung around Annie’s shoulders, Matt started down the lane.
Charlie scuffed a toe in the dirt. “It was great,” he mumbled. “Thanks.” He gave his dad and Annie a quick glance, then lowered his voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt Dolly or anything.”
Jolie suppressed a smile. “I’m sure she’s okay. A little angry, but okay. She’ll get over it.”
He kicked at another clump of dirt. “There’s something else.”
“Charlie, come on!” Matt waited at the edge of the clearing, where the lane disappeared into the pines.
“It’s Annie.”
“Annie?”
“Something’s wrong, and I don’t know what to do.”
Jolie rested a hand on his shoulder. “Is it something at school? The other kids?”
“No...” He fidgeted from one foot to the other. “Not that.”
“Troubles between her and someone else?”
“No. I shouldn’t have said anything. I gotta go.”
“Can you talk to your dad—”
Shaking his head, Charlie spun away and raced down the slope to where Matt and Annie were waiting, leaving Jolie to stare after him.
What could bother Charlie that much—and why couldn’t he tell his father?
JOLIE SHIVERED UNDERthe covers.
She’d turned down the thermostat to fifty-five after Matt and the kids left, preferring the cozy warmth of her down comforters and the fireplace to the furnace, but now the fire had burned down and even her triple layer of lofty bedding didn’t keep out the cold.
Somewhere in the mist between sleep and awareness, she imagined what it might be like to be married and be able to snuggle up to someone warm.
Like Matt Dawson, for instance. The thought made her sigh.
With a yawn, she sat up, pulled one of the blankets around her shoulders and toed around on the floor for her slippers, then shuffled toward the living room.
She’d just reached for the thermostat dial when she heard the sound.
A cry, soft as a kitten’s, just outside the cabin door.It could be a crazed killer luring you outside,an inner voice whispered.A strangler on the loose. Some lunatic survivalist come down from the mountains.
Her path illuminated only by the last embers flickering in the fireplace, she slipped across the room, thankful she’d pulled all the curtains before going to bed.I need a dog. A really, really big dog.
At the kitchen counter, she scooped up her cell phone. Then she edged toward the coat closet by the door, where her Ruger 10–22 rifle was hidden on the top shelf.
