Beneath Blackwater River Leslie Wolfe (me reader txt) 📖

to try. Only yesterday, Kirsten was just another runaway to him, one who got the benefit of attention because of personal favors being called into Sheriff Logan’s office, and he detested that kind of work. Now he knew he had to find the girl no matter what. He could ride the rough string; all it would take was legwork and that he could easily do.

He drove out of there, leaving the loading docks behind and heading for the highway. He reached the fork in the road right after another vehicle, identical to his, had turned onto the road coming from the residence. With a wide smile on his lips, he turned on his flashers and flipped on the siren for a brief moment.

The vehicle ahead pulled over immediately, and Kay hopped out from behind the wheel.

Was it just his imagination, or was she beaming?

He bowed his head, taking his hat off for a moment as he approached her. The fine dust of the dirt road appeared like unsettled fog in the headlights of his car, and she was breathtaking standing there, smiling, waving at him, her hair blown into the wind like whirls of golden smoke.

“Howdy, ma’am,” he said, wondering if he should take the opportunity to ask her out. Perhaps today would be a good day to do that, since they’d been working separate cases and he could use that as an excuse in the event she flat out declined, to save face. As if saving face would even matter, if she said no. He’d just stand there, cold as a frozen frog, lower than a gopher hole.

“Hey there, cowboy,” she replied with playfulness in her voice. “Was I going over the limit?” she quipped, feigning fearful concern. “I’ve never been pulled over before. Are you going to arrest me, Detective?”

Her words lit a fire inside him. He lowered his gaze for a moment, hiding the heat in his eyes under the brim of his hat, thankful for the darkness surrounding them, for the thin dust floating in the air and filling his nostrils with the smell of dry earth that reminded him of hoofbeats in the Texas arid plains.

He looked straight at her, playing her game. “Not tonight, ma’am, since it’s your first offense. I was thinking we could discuss the details of your crime over dinner instead.”

She tilted her head ever so slightly, while her smile touched her eyes. “I could eat.”

20In the Dark

Five Days Ago

The cold had taken over the dark, empty house, chilling Kirsten’s blood, fueling her fears. She paced the rooms one after another, trying all windows, all doors, looking for exits that weren’t there. Her bare feet were frozen from the contact with the cold floorboards, and every now and then she sat on the couch, folding her legs underneath her to keep them warm. The socks she’d come with were hanging out to dry in the bathroom, after she’d rinsed them quickly in the shower.

Feeling the chilly air grip her shoulders, she rummaged through one of the bedroom closets and found an old blanket. She wrapped it around her body and returned to the couch, where she sat, leaning against the backrest and hugging her knees underneath the blanket, staring at the dark window. Everything felt damp and smelled musty, the humidity in the air exacerbated by the cold seeping in without any heating to overcome it. How long had the place been without people living in it? Who would keep a house like that, and why?

The answers to those questions scared her out of her mind, so she pushed her fears aside and looked outside the window.

The coyote was gone, and so was the crescent moon, the only thing that had brought any shred of light inside the house. When would he come back? And would he let her go? She realized he wasn’t going to take her to San Francisco; that boat had sailed, even in a naïve mind like hers, that scenario didn’t hold any water. But what would he do with her?

Anxiety drilled a hole in her stomach. She remembered how the man had opened the fridge and found deli meats, cheeses, and those delicious bread rolls. They felt fresh at the time. Was the fridge still working? How about the microwave? Her hopes revived by the idea, she quickly felt her way across the room and opened the fridge door.

A dim light made her smile, so dim it didn’t even reach the dining room table, but it was far more than she’d had before. There was still plenty of food inside, and she ate, standing in the open door, hastily gulping down slices of ham, salami, and Swiss cheese. Then she reached for the microwave door and opened it.

“Yeah,” she whispered when another dim light defeated a patch of darkness in the kitchen. She warmed up a roll, buttered it, and layered it with ham and cheese, then gave it another thirty seconds in the oven, taking it out, a mouthwatering, molten hot Swiss sandwich.

She was just about to start another sandwich, when she realized she should probably conserve resources. What if he wasn’t coming back anytime soon? What if he was never coming back? And what would he do if he did return?

Slowly, regretfully, she closed the fridge door and darkness regained some terrain. She left the microwave door open, and then crossed the room back to the couch, where she crouched under the damp blanket, shivering, keeping her eyes on that dim light as if it were the first candle at an all-night vigil.

She must’ve dozed off when the movement of air around her startled her awake. She saw a shadow moving by the door and she screamed, scared out of her mind.

The man turned on the lights with the remote in his hand, and she blinked a few times, blinded. Then she sprung to her feet and tried to run past him to the door, but he grabbed her and set her down