A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trus Reagan Keeter (most difficult books to read TXT) 📖

Cynthia didn’t respond. She held tight, took several deep breaths.

“If you don’t get off me, I’m going to fall, too!”

After another moment, she said, “All right, just give me a second.” She reached out to the wall of rock in front of her, one hand searching for purchase.

“I’m serious,” Ethan said. “Hurry this up!”

Then, just as she thought she found what she was looking for, just as her fingers were working her way into the crevice and she was shifting her weight away from Ethan’s leg, his other foot slipped. Ethan managed to hold on, get his foot back onto the rock where it had been. But the sudden movement was enough for Cynthia, who was searching for a place to put her own foot, to lose her grip on him and once again start sliding into the darkness.

This time, though, there was nothing to stop her.

THEN

MARTIN HAD NOT ended up in the caverns underneath Misery Rock because of Diane Banks. Not directly, anyway. But if he’d had a chance to think about it, she was part of the reason he was there, wasn’t she?

He still remembered when Diane had marched up to him and announced that she was pregnant.

They had dated on and off for more than a year, and Martin had finally broken up with her for the last time.

He grabbed Diane’s arm and led her to a secluded corner of the campus library. “What? Are you sure?”

“I found out a couple of days ago. I did one of those home pregnancy—”

Then Martin interrupted her to ask the one question that he would regret for years to come: “What makes you so sure it’s mine?”

She glared at him. She didn’t have to say she hadn’t been with anybody else. Martin could see it on her face. Besides, part of him already knew she hadn’t been with anybody else. What she did say was, “I thought you would want to know.” Then, almost soft enough to be a whisper: “I thought you might be happy.”

NOW

They were closer to the ground than they realized. Martin watched Cynthia’s headlamp as she fell and then crumpled into the earth like an accordion. She had fallen perhaps twenty feet.

“Cynthia!”

No answer. No movement.

Martin called her name twice more and asked Ethan, “Do you think she’s dead?”

Ethan didn’t answer.

Then Martin saw her head move ever so slightly—actually, he saw the light on her helmet move—and he knew she wasn’t.

THEN

MARTIN ATE A quiet dinner in his room because he didn’t want to talk to anyone. His mom asked what was wrong, and he said, “Nothing.”

Then he locked his bedroom door and called Diane. If she was going to have his child, they were going to have to talk.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” she said, and slammed the phone down.

NOW

CYNTHIA’S HANDS AND face were nicked and bleeding, but she assured Martin that nothing was broken. “Hurray for small miracles, right?” She smiled her perfect smile, and Martin pushed a few stray hairs away from her face.

He wanted to kiss her. He didn’t care that Ethan was watching, pacing. But he didn’t, because they were just “good friends.”

As deep, black jealousy boiled up inside him, he turned to pick up the flashlight that had fallen from Ethan’s pocket. He clicked the button on it several times. Nothing happened. “Guess it’s dead,” he said, and tossed it back onto the ground. Since they didn’t have any extra batteries, there was no reason to bring it with them.

Then a passage as wide as a city bus took them north and up a gradual incline.

THEN

DIANE NEVER HAD the baby, because there was no baby to have. What she did, instead, was wait outside Martin’s house night after night until Cynthia finally came over to visit.

Diane was certain Cynthia was part of the reason Martin had broken up with her. She didn’t know if they were dating, but she wanted to make sure Cynthia was there for the second part of her plan, just in case either she or Martin was planning to move the relationship in that direction.

After Cynthia arrived, Diane gave them thirty minutes to get settled before knocking on the door.

Martin’s mom answered.

“Is Martin in?”

“Sure. He’s just watching a movie. Come on in,” Janice said.

She led Diane to the living room.

Martin and Cynthia were sitting on the sofa. Gina had positioned herself in a nearby recliner. A bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. A frozen image of a barn on the TV. The movie—whatever it was—had been paused.

Martin and Cynthia shifted in their seats to see who had arrived. Gina needed only to turn her head.

Showtime, Diane thought, and said, “I did it. I had the abortion.”

A heavy silence set in while everyone processed the information. Then, suddenly, they all started talking at once.

Janice: “My baby got somebody pregnant?”

Cynthia: “Martin, why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were best friends.”

Gina: “This is so cool.”

Martin: “Diane—”

Diane: “Well, you wanted to know, didn’t you?”

Martin jumped to his feet. “Come here,” he said to Diane, and led her back to the front door, and then onto the porch. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I thought you’d be happy. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“This is my fault now?” he said. He was furious. How dare she barge into his house with an announcement like that? Something like that should have been handled more discreetly.

“I’m not the one with the sperm,” she snapped.

“I didn’t tell you to get an abortion.”

“But you didn’t tell anybody I was pregnant, either.”

“Because I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Wait,” she said, her hands out in front of her as if trying to slow down the conversation. “You didn’t want me to keep the baby, did you?”

“I don’t know. I—”

“And I gave it up?”

Martin didn’t know what to say. Somehow the conversation had turned against him.

“This is all your fault. If you hadn’t been such a jerk when I told