A Shadow Fell by Patrick Dakin Read Free Book Online Page B

even more difficult .              
                  My aging parents, of course, were heart broken at the devastation our family had suffered . After they returned home t hey called me daily but as often as not the calls would end with my mother breaking down in tears. I finally told my d ad that I’d rather they let me call them when I felt more like talking.
     
                  The nightmares started in earnest after the funeral . No two were ever exactly the same but the general gist didn’t vary much. All involved some form of betrayal on my part - my family needed me and I was not there to help them. Most nights I would startle awake soaked in sweat, a vision of Tanya, bloody and screaming, pleading for my help.
                  Days passed but I had no concept of time. I would sit down with a coffee on the veranda and take a sip to find it stone cold, only to come to the realization that three hours ha d elapsed.
                  Eve ning s I would often swear I could hear Tanya calling from her bedroom. They were never calls of terror, though. Just dim echoes of her voice calling to me. Daddy… Daddy… Time after time I pounded up the stairs , certain I would find her there, only to feel foolish and pitiful for falling prey to my fevered imagination.
                  O ne day I heard a dog barking and realized it was Winston. I t wasn’t that I had forgotten about him exactly but I had just not been able to gather together the energy to walk over to my neighbor’s place to retrieve him .
                  At some point , a knock at the door roused m e from a stupor. When I opened the door Winston leaped up at me, nearly knocking me over. M y neighbor stood there with a sad smile on his face.
                  “Hello, Jack,” he said. “I didn’t want to intrude on ya but I thought maybe you’d want some company. If not me, then Winston here maybe.”
                  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I meant to stop by earlier but…”
                  “Nah, don’t even think about apologizing. I’d be happy to keep the old fella actually. But I know he misses ya.”
                  “You know, I can’t even remember your name.”
                  “It’s Conrad. Folks call me Con.”
                  “Right. Well , thanks, Con. I appreciate you helping us out .”
                  “Look, Jack, I’ve seen the news. I know what’s happened to your family. I just want ya to know if there’s anything I can do for ya – anything at all - ya just have ta let me know.”
                  “I appreciate that,” I said.
                  I’m sure my demeanor must have made it pretty obvious I didn’t feel much like company but he seemed reluctant to leave. He reached into the  pocket of his frayed jeans and extracted a piece of paper which he handed to me. “This is my phone number,” he said. “If ya ever feel like talking, call me.”
                  “Thanks,” I said. “I will.”
                  He nodded, then turned and sauntered off.
     
                                                                          *               *               *
     
                  I settled in to a mindless routine of  driving down to Ocala every other day or so to spend an hour sitting with Callie. And I’d call Tom Kilborn every few days to see if there was any progress in the search. Neither of these activities ever provided me with a ny reason for optimism . Quite the contrary actually. Callie, if anything, seemed to be getting worse. Her pallor was ghostly , s he was losing weight rapidly . It was like she was disappearing before my eyes.
                  Th e only thing the FBI had