Cradle Lake by Ronald Malfi Read Free Book Online Page B

really.”
    â€œIt’s probably best to keep out of those woods,” Hank said. His tone was matter-of-fact but almost forcibly so. He continued to fold and unfold his arms as he spoke. “We get bears coming down from the mountains in the summer and fall. They’ve been known to go through people’s trash, and one even killed someone’s dog on Broad Street last year.”
    â€œNo kidding? Bears?”
    â€œAnyway, you don’t want to accidentally run into one of those suckers going through the woods.”
    â€œHave you ever seen one?”
    â€œNo. But I’ve seen the messes they leave behind. Garbage strewn all over the streets.”
    â€œBut you know nothing about those stones, huh? The ones with the symbols on them?”
    Hank once again flashed his toothy grin. “That’s the college professor in you, isn’t it?” His big head looked like a pumpkin with sideburns. “Always trying to find answers to the unexplained? I mean, I totally envy you academic types. I wish I had it in me to be so smart.”
    Footsteps sounded on the basement stairs. Don Probst,who lived with his wife, Jane, two houses up from the Gerski house, appeared at the foot of the stairs. Alan had been introduced to him earlier that afternoon as the neighbors slowly gathered in Hank’s backyard. Don was stocky, well-muscled, tan. A beer bottle sweated in one meaty paw.
    â€œThis some meeting of the special boys’ club?” Don asked.
    â€œDon the bomb,” said Hank.
    â€œSeriously, am I interrupting?”
    Hank waved a hand at him. “Heck, no. I was just showing Alan my baseball junk. And telling him how envious I am that he gets to sit around the house all summer until school starts.”
    â€œOh yeah,” Don said, crossing over to them. “At the community college, right?”
    Alan nodded.
    â€œHope you don’t get my kid,” Don said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “For the sake of your own sanity.”
    â€œI get my students to listen pretty well,” he countered. “I take a gun to class.”
    Don’s sense of humor was about as sharp as a balloon. But after a few beats his face creased in some suggestion of a smile. He laughed, which sounded like the backfire of an old pickup, and jabbed a stubby finger in Alan’s direction. “This guy,” he said, turning to Hank. “This guy, he shouldn’t be a professor; he should be a comedian.”
    When the three of them returned to Hank’s backyard, the other neighbors were drinking around a large picnic table while Hank’s barbecue sizzled in the background. The world smelled of hamburgers, onions, potato salad, charcoal. Young Catherine was making the rounds performing card tricks for anyone who’d grant her ten seconds of attention.The men passed around cigars and swilled beer. Most of the women had gathered around one young woman whose swollen abdomen became the center of attention. Jane Probst had her hand on the woman’s pregnant belly, and she was grinning like an idiot. Never quite able to understand how one person could just walk up and touch another person’s stomach, Alan watched the women with a combination of distaste and sheer puzzlement.
    Belly touchers,
he thought.
The whole lot of you.
    His eyes connected with Heather’s. She sat alone in a lawn chair, an unopened can of beer in her lap. Her stare caused his testicles to retreat into his abdomen. At that moment he was all too clearly aware of his ulcer.
    Thankfully, Lydia broke the tension when she clapped and told them all that it was time to eat.
    That night, at some ungodly hour, Alan awoke to find Heather’s side of the bed empty. Fear shook him. He thought he could hear the shudder of pipes and the sounds of running water. Terrified, he thought of locked bathroom doors and tubs half-filled with pinkish water.
    Blood pumping, he sprung from bed and called Heather’s