Blind Faith by CJ Lyons Read Free Book Online

breakdown and the tourist season, Hal's busy time of year, had only just begun. "Why don't you take some time for yourself? You haven't taken a day off since Lily died. Take a vacation, go someplace far away, find a cute girl and break her heart like you did mine in high school."
    That made him smile. "I'm thirty-two, if I start chasing after girls I'll have to arrest myself. Besides," his gaze speared past her to fix on the mountains framed in the view from the window, "guess we're both tied to this place."
    He handed her the radio and a spare battery pack. She walked with him to the door. Together they stood on the front porch, Snakehead towering over them, casting the house in shadows.
    "How long are you planning to stay up there?" he asked.
    "A few days, then I'll come back, re-supply."
    A frown tightened his forehead. "How 'bout if you give me a firm return time so I don't have to send people out looking for you? You be back here by Friday afternoon, all right? Maybe let Alan take you up to that Montreal art exhibit for the weekend."
    Looked like the town had formed a conspiracy trying to get her and Alan together. But a weekend away, without murder as the main topic of conversation did sound nice. "All right. On one condition. That you take a vacation as well. Go, have some fun, let Hopewell take care of itself for a day or two."
    He nodded, a smile crossing his face but not making it to his eyes. "Deal. Come Friday night, I'll officially take off for parts unknown."
    "Just don't get yourself arrested, Chief."
    "Good luck, Sarah. And have a care." He sauntered down the path to where his GMC was parked. "Call me if you need anything."
    "I won't be needing you. Go home, get some rest."
    He gave her a wave as he climbed into the SUV, honked once and did a rapid three point turn, spinning gravel. The hemlocks lining her lane swayed in the wind, seeming to close in behind him. Silence fell as the dust settled.
    Sarah took a deep breath, filling her lungs as if preparing for a long underwater siege. Nodding to Snakehead, accepting its silent challenge, she went back inside to collect the rest of her gear.
    The Colonel's hunting cabin was near the top of the mountain, the last shelter accessible by car. Her plan was to drive up, park, then work her way down the south face. No need for a tent, the weather was mild. All she needed was her sleeping bag and a ground cloth. If the weather turned, as it was prone to near the summit, she could always bivouac in the single room cabin.
    Of course, the Colonel's wife would heartily disapprove of a woman staying alone in a cabin lacking plumbing or electricity—much less sleeping out under the stars. The thought made Sarah smile.
    It wasn't that she disliked the Colonel's wife or felt that no one could ever replace her mother. All right, it wasn't just that she disliked the Colonel's wife. It was the fact that Victoria had never given Sarah a chance to know her, much less like her, before she moved in and began to run the Colonel's life for him.
    The man was in charge of two hundred men during the Vietnam war, so it was surprising to Sarah that he seemed to enjoy his newfound captivity. Or at least his warden.
    Sarah's head bobbed in time with the tune she hummed as she arranged her gear. One of Sam's ditties, from his country-western phase. He'd called it the No Sunshine, Stuck in the Mud, Rainy Day Blues.
    I'm coming guys...don't worry, I'll find you.
     

     
    JD Dolan pedaled his Diamondback furiously, straining to gain the momentum necessary to conquer the last hill standing between him and Main Street. Doc Hedeger's purple Victorian became a fuzzy blur on his left side as he rounded the corner. Brakes squealed, a horn honked, but JD didn't care. He sped past the squat orange brick post office—a building so ugly, its existence had almost caused a civil war between the inhabitants of Hopewell.
    JD had covered the protests for the Hopewell school newspaper. Mrs. Durandt, the faculty