The Uninvited

Начало книги

Waylin Pitney was gone. His white panel truck was no longer parked on the brow of the hill behind the old drive shed. Good, thought Cramer. Now maybe things would get back to normal.

He squinted in the light reflecting off the creek. He steadied his canoe, rubbed the back of his hands, torn with new scratches. He was tired from a long paddle upstream but in no hurry to disembark. He looked up again, up the dying hill, already in late-afternoon shadow. There’d been a frost that morning; the day had grown sunny and warm, but it would grow cold again. His mother didn’t like the cold. She’d have hung on to Waylin, pleaded with him not to go. It would take Cramer a day or two to bring her down.

There were cockleburs on the sleeves of Cramer’s shirt. He pulled them off, one by one, and threw them onto the water. He looked up again, half expecting the truck to still be there. Cramer had dreamed it away so many times, he didn’t trust his eyes.

Читать дальше →