The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1) A.J. Flynn (ebook reader play store TXT) 📖

“Haven’t you heard? It’s Mr. Valentine. He died this morning in a car accident. Ran head on into a truck and was burned beyond recognition. That police lieutenant brought Mrs. Valentine home this afternoon. I would have made a trip over as soon as I heard about it, but I don’t know her very well. Poor thing.”

Robb wouldn’t have been able to move if his life depended on it. All he seemed to be able to do was sit there feeling like maggots were crawling around in his insides. He stared down at his hands, and against his will remembered back to the pain he had inflicted.

He thought back to how he had taunted Hayley for the way she looked and hated her for looking that way. He could remember her terror, alongside her inability to comprehend why he would want to do her harm.

The deed was right there in all of its stark clarity and he realized that the hard feeling of self-disgust would linger with him for the rest of his life, but for now the most important thing for him was his own self preservation.

What would she do? He had to figure it out soon.

Colleen, with her usual lack of interest, didn’t notice any of his distress. “I’ll put your dinner on then run over and see if there’s anything I can do to help. The poor thing shouldn’t be by herself at a time like this.”

“No,” he choked involuntarily. “You stay away from her.”

She stared at her husband, shocked with amazement. “Robb—you can’t possibly mean that. The woman was just widowed. It isn’t Christian to ignore her.”

“Leave her alone,” he growled. “I mean it. You stay out of it.”

Colleen shook her head struggling to understand, then glanced across the street again. “Oh, there’s a car pulling up now.”

“Wha—who is it?” he whispered.

“Just a second, I can’t tell yet. Oh yes, I see now. It’s Dr. Blackwell. Well, I’m sure he can help her far better than I would be able to. Go on and get washed, and I’ll set something out for you to eat.”

Robb followed behind her quietly because he couldn’t think of a way to get out of it. If he told her he wasn’t hungry, she would be quite capable of calling Dr. Blackwell over to see what horrible ailment had taken hold of him.

His mind was in turmoil. Would the doctor report what he discovered? He struggled to think, but he couldn’t be sure how much he’d hurt her. He didn’t know anything.

Colleen had everything spread out on the table by the time he returned to the kitchen, and they took their seats. After a brief pause she interrupted his thoughts by saying, “You’re not eating your soup. I thought it was one of your favorites.”

For a second he thought she had lost her mind, then he remembered that she still didn’t know.

“Are you feeling okay?” she persisted.

“Just tired with a little headache. If you don’t mind I think I might lie down for a while. Maybe once I’m back up you can warm my soup for me.”

“Okay. Would you like some aspirin?”

“No. Just a bit of rest. I’ll head off to my bedroom.”

He’d reached the bedroom door when he heard a siren in the distance.

He clung to the door, not wanting to believe his ears as the wailing grew louder and louder. Sweat broke out all over his body, and he began to shake.

“Robb,” Colleen shouted, “there’s an ambulance coming down our street. You don’t think there could have been another murder, do you?”

He wasn’t able to answer. What if he’d killed her? What if she had been badly injured and died soon after he left?

“Robb,” Colleen’s shrill voice piped again, “there’s an ambulance, and it’s stopped outside the Valentines. Oh, I told you I should have gone over there.”

He heard the front door open and shut, and nobody answered his anguished cry when he shouted, “Colleen, come back here.”

He stumbled to the window and watched Colleen follow the medical attendants to the house where Dr. Blackwell stood waiting. The men in the white uniforms spoke briefly with the doctor, then rushed inside. Colleen and the doctor stayed outside talking. In a matter of minutes the men had Hayley loaded into the back of the ambulance, and were gone.

Colleen watched until they were finally out of sight, then turned and slowly walked back home.

Robb thought his heart might be stuck in his throat as he waited for her return. When she did, he asked her in a thin voice, “What happened?”

“I don’t know. The doctor didn’t tell me anything except that it was an emergency. He looked worried though—not like his usual self.”

“Did Mrs. Valentine talk to you?”

“It seemed like she was unconscious. Poor woman. Losing her husband like that must have been too much for her.”

“That must be it,” he agreed, then returned to the bedroom to think. There was a lot he had to think about.

He fell onto the bed like a man who had gone days without rest. He could hear Colleen in the other rooms of the house. She was drifting about, talking to herself, and he could occasionally hear her mutter something about that poor woman. She was always eager to feed on other people’s troubles.

His own predicament had nearly disappeared from his mind when it all came rushing back like a heavy tide.

Had she told anyone? Even if she hadn’t yet, the odds were high she would later on, but at least he didn’t have to worry about her husband. That was at least a break. Husbands were known to wield guns after something like that happens to their wives.

Even if she’d given them his name, maybe they would just shrug it off to her condition. He had heard of people losing their sanity when they were in great emotional shock. She could have done that.

As he lay there rationalizing, his actions began to lose some of their loathsomeness. He could almost believe