Return to Red Creek Nathan Hystad (e books free to read .txt) 📖

research for a book, but Terri and Taylor knew better. He made sure the safety was on, then slipped it into a holster, drawing his jacket overtop.

Brent was wide-eyed, and Taylor hugged in close to the young man. His eyes met Paul’s, but he quickly averted his gaze. The kid was scared and had every right to be. Paul was scared too. The only one who seemed unfazed by it all was Darrel. He was already moving past his truck, toward the path between the houses.

Paul and that path had a lot of history, and even a day ago, he would never have suspected he’d be walking it again. He took a deep breath and began walking, Taylor and Brent close beside him, Isabelle right behind.

They were an odd bunch, but they were family. Paul worried that might be exactly what the monster wanted, but he kept going anyway. Taylor was right. They had to deal with this now. There would be no more hiding out in his fancy townhouse overlooking Central Park. He’d pulled his head from the sand, and there was no heading back.

 

 

Seventeen

The day had been long, and after the last seventy-two hours, Tom was dead tired. He was already dozing off, and it was only nine thirty.

“What about the Beatles? You have to like the Beatles,” Rich said, continuing his unmatched droning about all sorts of subjects Tom didn’t give a rat’s ass about.

Tom didn’t reply, but he blinked his eyes open as someone moved outside the condo building. Occasionally, he saw the glowing ember of a cigarette being smoked from the main floor suite that pointed toward the fields. Buzz was out there pacing around, his woman noticeably absent tonight. Tom didn’t think the man had anything to do with what was going on. He usually had a good sense about these things.

Carl, on the other hand. The way the hair elastic had been settled on the nightstand; it was just what he’d expect from the guy, but there was the chance he was wrong. Carl had looked petrified as they’d questioned him. There was none of the arrogance Tom might expect from a cold, calculating killer.

That was why Tom was still here, watching the building. It was the epicenter of the missing children. It had to be. The Gilden dealership connection bothered him. There had to be something there. If nothing turned up here, he was going to drive to Gilden and take a look around the lot. There were a lot of places to hide a body in a big building like that, and the few hundred car trunks wouldn’t hurt either.

Now that Tom thought about it, there was a forested lot behind the dealership too. It made for a picturesque sight as you drove by the lot in the summer. Now, with the trees not quite in bloom, it would look a little ominous, like the skeletal ones surrounding Tom at that moment. He glanced around, seeing naked branches jutting out in all directions.

The movement he’d discovered a minute ago was just Emma Jeanne lugging some bags toward her car. After she started it, he could hear the fan belt from his perch a quarter-mile away, as chilly spring air blew in through his open window.

“Who’s that?” Rich asked, finally noticing the car leaving the condo.

“Ms. Jeanne. She’s harmless. Probably heading away for the weekend until this all settles down,” Tom said. She’d been nice enough, and he felt sorry for the older lady, living alone in such an undesirable location, surrounded by other odd and unlucky folks. He wondered what had brought her to Red Creek from Florida. It seemed like quite the departure.

The deputy’s radio buzzed, and Sheriff Tyler’s crisp voice came through. “There’s something weird happening on Wood Street. Guy walking around with a gun, standing in the middle of the road. Might want to go check it out.”

Before Rich could respond, Tom grabbed the radio. “Any news from Carl, Sheriff?”

“Nothing. He’s zipped up. Lawyer’s gone, for the time being,” Tyler said.

“Gotcha. All quiet here at the orchard, so we’ll go check out the disturbance,” Tom said.

“Bartlett,” Tyler said.

“Yes?”

“Be careful.”

“Will do.” Tom passed the radio over, and Rich was already throwing his seatbelt on.

“Wood Street. Isn’t that where Brittany Tremblay lived?” Rich asked.

Tom didn’t like the way he said the word “lived,” as if her fate was already sealed. “It is.”

“Quite the famous street around here,” Rich said nonchalantly.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, wishing he didn’t have to go deal with a gun-toting local on this Saturday night of all nights.

“Just the… you’ve heard about the Red Creek Killer, right?” the deputy asked, straight-faced.

“If you mean this local urban legend of some entity that steals children, then yes. But I thought all that was over when the Smiths were linked to it,” Tom said, not wanting to get into a supernatural discussion with this peculiar, much younger deputy beside him.

Rich cleared his throat and looked out the window. “I don’t know what to believe. I’ve seen a lot. I was one of Tommy O’Brian’s best friends. The year before, I lost one of my baseball teammates, Isaac Benning. He was a great kid. I find it hard to believe that those orchard owners could have done it. There are too many holes.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know.” Tom guessed Rich was around twenty-five, and that would put him at thirteen when Tommy O’Brian was killed. “What does the sheriff think about it all?”

“He was there. He didn’t see the shadow, but his friends did.” Rich was still turned away, and Tom wondered if the guy was having fun with him.

“What do you mean, he was there?” Tom asked as he drove the gravel road. He slowed as he neared an intersection, stopping at the red octagon. Too many people roared through the signs on the quiet back roads, and Tom had seen his fair share of accidents resulting in death because of it. He wasn’t going to become