Astrid Amara

Astrid Amara by Holiday Outing Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: Astrid Amara by Holiday Outing Read Free Book Online
Authors: Holiday Outing
he looked for, Al peeked under the bed and reached for my
    suitcase. I could feel the blood drain from my face. I lunged just as he grasped the zipper.
    “No! Uncle Al, don’t open that!” I reached for my suitcase but he pulled it away,
    clutching it triumphantly.
    “Aha! Caught you red-handed!”
    “That’s mine.” Ethan marched into the room and crossed his arms over his chest,
    looking very pissed off. “My father’s, actually.” He glared at my uncle.
    Uncle Al frowned. “It is?”
    “It’s my father’s spare colostomy kit,” Ethan said coolly. “I wouldn’t open it, if I were
    you. I haven’t had a chance to sanitize everything just yet.”
    Uncle Al dropped the suitcase as if it burned.
    Ethan’s smirk was cold. “I hope you didn’t break anything doing that.”
    “No! I just…” Uncle Al stammered for a moment, wiped his brow. Then he left the
    room, but turned to point at me from the hallway. “This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,
    Jonah. Everyone is a suspect until it is found. Everyone, including you!” He stormed off.
    “I think he means only you, from the sound of it,” Ethan said. He returned my suitcase
    to the corner.
    Holiday Outing
    45
    I knew my face was flushed bright red. I swallowed to bring moisture back to my
    parched mouth. “Thank you,” I croaked.
    Ethan shrugged. “Anytime.”
    I sat on the edge of the bed, head in my hands. My heart beat frantically. Did I honestly
    think I was coming out any time soon, when such a simple brush with discovery sent my
    blood pressure skyrocketing and set my ganglions atwitter?
    “I think we should find the thief before this goes on much further,” Ethan said finally.
    I looked up. “Do you know who took it?”
    “No, but it can’t be hard to find since it’s somewhere in the house.” Ethan suddenly
    grinned. For a moment, he looked up to no good, almost sneaky, and my stomach clenched at
    the sight. It was the same smile he had when he was a boy, back when I had watched him
    from afar.
    “Let’s find the thief ourselves,” he said enthusiastically, his voice lowering to a thrilled
    whisper.
    “You mean search the place?” I whispered back.
    “And look for clues!” Ethan looked excited.
    I shook my head. “Did you read a lot of Nancy Drew growing up?”
    He flashed me a dazzling smile. “No. However, I watched every episode of Scooby
    Doo.”
    “Well, we can rule out the groundskeeper,” I told him. “We don’t have one.” I conjured
    some energy and stood. “Okay, Sherlock. How about we split up, ask some questions, and see
    what we can find out. We’ll confer back this evening. Unless of course you just find it, in
    which case, we’ll have to cut short our delightful holiday mystery.”
    “Sounds like fun.” He reached out and tousled my hair as he left the bedroom.
    46
    Astrid Amara
    I straightened it again, wanting to be pissed. But I felt a flutter in my stomach instead.
    And I guess my energy reserves were too low to power the thirty-three muscles needed to
    frown, because I was smiling like a fool as I made my way downstairs.

    * * * * *
After breakfast, my father finally managed to close the front door, transferring all the
    snow that had tumbled inside to the bathtub, where we stored the perishables. I peered
    outside at the frozen feet of snow and ice. No car dared the streets. In fact, there were no
    streets, just a sea of white in which neighborhood kids plunged out of sight, emitting muffled
    squeals of frozen delight.
    Matthew volunteered to brave the negative temperatures and shovel a tunnel toward
    civilization. Aunt Goldie sat ensconced under a pile of blankets where she mumbled to her
    dead husband and knitted. Rachel tended the fire.
    Given no specific task to address the family crisis, I moved into the kitchen, knowing
    my mother would be frantic with the looming prospect of lunch. Besides, I wanted to
    interview her first. It wasn’t that I held specific accusations toward my mother;

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