Thicker Than Blood - the Complete Andrew Z. Thomas Trilogy - Blake Crouch [108]
Last winter she’d won the hundred meter freestyle in a middle school swim meet and I stumbled upon the results which had been posted on her school’s webpage. I’d been tempted to send her a congratulatory card. The Lancings still lived in the same house on Lake Norman. But for all I knew, Beth believed that I’d murdered her husband. So I’d settled for merely printing out the swim meet results and highlighting Jenna’s name.
A dogsled magnet still held that page to my refrigerator door.
When I stepped out of the library it was midday and the snowfall had frosted Kluane Boulevard, parked cars, the woods, and rooftops in a delicate inch of powder. I buttoned my vest, pulled a black toboggan down over my ears, and strolled back up the sidewalk toward my Jeep.
The village was so quiet.
I could almost hear the snow collecting like a subconscious whisper.
I anticipated being home and the fire I would build and the peaceful hours I’d spend in its warmth, writing while the forest filled with snow.
God, I loved my life.
6
KAREN Prescott woke, the darkness unchanged.
She sat up, banged her head into a panel of soundproofing foam.
Consciousness recoiled in full.
She felt around in the dark for those familiar invisible objects of her small black universe: the two empty water bottles at her bare feet, the huge coil of rope, the gascan, the blanket.
Her head throbbed with thirst, her jaw was broken, her fingertips shredded from picking glass shards out of her hair. The car was motionless, its engine silent for the first time in hours. Karen wondered if it were night or day and for how long she’d lain in her bathrobe on this abrasive stinking carpet, still damp with her urine.
How far was she from her Manhattan apartment?
Where had the man with long black hair gone?
Perhaps the car was parked in front of a convenience store and he was inside using the restroom or filling a cup at the soda fountain or signing a credit card receipt. Maybe the car sat in the parking lot of a Quality Inn. He could be lying in bed in a motel room watching porn.
What if he had a heart attack?
What if he never came back?
Was the trunk airtight?
Was she whittling away with each breath at a finite supply of air?
He’ll let me out eventually. He promised. I’ll keep calm until—
She heard something.
Children’s laughter.
Their high voices reached her, muffled but audible.
Karen wanted to rip away the soundproofing and scream her brains out for help.
But her captor had warned that if she yelled or beat on the trunk even once, he would kill her slowly.
And she believed him.
The driver side door opened and slammed.
He’d been in the car the whole time. Was he testing her? Seeing if she would scream?
As his footsteps trailed away, she thought, Spending a Friday night by myself in my apartment isn’t lonely. This is lonely.
7
ME and Josh and Mikey were playing with a slug and a magnifying glass I took from my big brother’s room. My brother’s name is Hank and he’s eleven. I’m only seven and I hate it.
Mikey found the slug on his driveway before he left for church. He isn’t afraid of slugs so he picked it up and put it in a glass jar in his garage. I’m not afraid of them either. I just don’t like the way they feel when you touch them.
We were playing at the end of my street where no houses are. Mom says if I want to play in the road this is where I have to do it since no cars ever come down here. She doesn’t want me to get run over.
Mikey had pulled the slug out of the jar and put it on the road. It was crawling very slowly. It left a silver slime trail behind it. Josh made me give him the magnifying glass. He’s very bossy sometimes but he’s bigger than me so I have to do what he says.
"Get out of the light, shrimp," Josh said to Mikey.
Mikey moved. He’s more afraid of Josh than I am. Josh is nine. He has his own BB gun. When Josh held the