An Ice Cold Grave by Charlaine Harris Read Free Book Online Page B

into the dark to open the car. I shut the door behind me. The night was cold and silent. There were lots of lights on in Doraville, including the one right above my head, but that still didn’t amount to much. I pulled on my heavy jacket while I looked up at the sky. Though the night was cloudy, I could see the distant glitter of a scattering of stars. I like to look at them, especially when my job gets me down. They’re vast and cold and far away; my problems are insignificant compared to their brilliance.
    Sometime soon, it would snow. I could almost smell it coming in the air.
    I shook off the spell of the night sky, and thought about my more immediate concerns. I clicked the car’s keyless entry pad and stepped off the little sidewalk that ran outside our door. Something moved in my peripheral vision and I began to turn my head.
    A crushing blow struck my arm just below my elbow. The pain was immediate and intense. I shouted, wordless with alarm, and pressed the panic button on the keypad. The horn began to blare, though in the next instant the keys fell from my numb fingers. I tried to turn to face the danger, trying to throw my hands up to protect myself. The left arm would not obey. I could only make out a man clad in black with a knit hood over his head, and a second blow was already arcing toward the side of my head. Though I launched myself sideways to avoid the full force of the impact, I thought my head would fly off my shoulders when the shovel grazed my skull. I started down to the sidewalk. The last thing I remember is trying to throw my hands out to break my fall, but only one of them answered my command.
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    â€œ SHE’LL be okay, right?” I heard Tolliver’s voice, but it was louder and sharper than usual. “Harper, Harper, talk to me!”
    â€œShe’s going to come around in a minute,” said a calm voice. Older man.
    â€œIt’s cold out here,” Tolliver shouted. “Get her into the ambulance.”
    Oh, shit, we couldn’t afford that. Or at least, we shouldn’t spend our money this way. “No,” I said, but it didn’t come out coherently.
    â€œYes,” he said. He’d understood me; God bless Tolliver. What if I were by myself in this world? What if he decided…Oh, Jesus, my head hurt. Was that blood on my hand?
    â€œWho hit me?” I asked, and Tolliver said, “Someone hit you? I thought you fainted! Someone hit her! Call the police.”
    â€œOkay, buddy, they’ll meet us at the hospital,” said the calm voice again.
    My arm hurt worse than anything I’d ever felt. But then, just about every part of my body hurt. I wanted someone to knock me out. This was awful.
    â€œReady?” asked a new voice.
    â€œOne, two, three,” said the calm one, and I was on a gurney and choking on a shriek at the pain of being moved.
    â€œThat shouldn’t have hurt so much,” New Voice said. New Voice was a woman. “Does she have another injury? Besides the head?”
    â€œArm,” I tried to say.
    â€œMaybe you shouldn’t move her,” my brother said.
    â€œWe’ve already moved her,” Calm Voice pointed out.
    â€œIs she all right?” asked still another voice. That was a really stupid question, in my opinion.
    Then they rolled me to the ambulance; I opened my eyes again, just a crack, to see the flashing red lights. I had another pang of dismay about the money this was going to cost; but then when they slid me in, I had no pangs about anything for a while.
    I fluttered up to awareness in the hospital. I saw a man leaning over me, a man with clipped gray hair and gleaming wire-rimmed glasses. His face looked serious but benevolent. Exactly the way a doctor ought to look. I hoped he was a doctor.
    â€œDo you understand me?” he said. “Can you count my fingers?”
    That was two questions. I tried to nod to show I could understand him. That was a big mistake.