Forests of the Night by James W. Hall Read Free Book Online Page A

distant echo of this man. Nothing came. Blankness. Then an ugly snippet replayed from one of today’s videos, the trooper lying on his back, one hand rising like a feeble plume of smoke toward the downward slice of the blade.
    She opened her eyes and stared some more. The guy was probably justan electrician or plumber bidding on a job. Their house was eighty years old, ancient by Miami standards, and required constant attention. She was simply oversaturated with violent images, having a flash of paranoia.
    After another few seconds, when no recollection hardened into focus, Charlotte turned to the counter, got out the cans of tuna, opened them one by one, and fed the tribe. When they’d taken their positions at their bowls, she poured herself a glass of cabernet and walked outside.
    Parker was in his after-hours uniform. Faded jeans, boat shoes, and a T-shirt from his vast collection. This one, bright yellow with red lettering, was from Duffy’s Tavern over in West Miami, a beer joint they used to frequent when they were first married and burning so many calories in the bedroom they could eat all the fries and greasy burgers they wanted.
    He opened his arms, and Charlotte rocked in and out of his embrace, planting her shoulder briefly against his chest and managing a quick bungled kiss on the edge of his mouth. The prickly conversation she’d had with Jesus was making her feel ungainly and self-conscious. An impostor in her own life.
    â€œWon the Drury case.” Parker made a self-deprecating smile.
    â€œI heard.”
    â€œBotched from start to finish. Metro should reprimand that patrolman, their crime-scene people. But they won’t. A total mess—Miranda, everything.”
    â€œWhich you exploited successfully.”
    Parker leaned away from her and squinted at the hint of disapproval.
    â€œYou okay?”
    Gracey extended a twig capped with a fresh marshmallow and waved it near Charlotte’s face. For the moment the sullen tautness in her cheeks had relaxed and she looked like the sweet, sincere girl she’d been a year earlier. Charlotte couldn’t tell if this mood was genuine or not. Maybe Gracey was making progress, chanting some new mantra she’d learned from her therapist. Or more likely it was simply a short-lived burst of artificial serenity brought on by the miracle of pharmaceuticals. For the last year their lives had been ruled by the endless skirmishes between the drugs and Gracey’s biology. Almost as quickly as they found a new pill that eased her back to normalcy, her condition mutated and the wild eruptions began again.
    When Charlotte opened her arms, Gracey stepped in and embraced her with such simple warmth that, against her better judgment, all her caution and reserve dissolved and Charlotte felt a rush of unadulterated hope. Maybe this was it, the watershed moment when the storm finally passed and the sun broke through and all would be well again. She would have her Gracey back, the demon exorcised, not even a memory of its terrible possession lingering on.
    Gracey drew away and gave Charlotte a cheerful smile.
    â€œWe’re having white-trash hors d’oeuvres,” she announced.
    Charlotte took the twig and had a nibble of the white foam.
    â€œOh, Mom, you’re supposed to roast them first. I’ll do one for you. Didn’t you ever go to summer camp?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t. I was deprived.”
    Gracey took the twig back and walked over to the fire and held the white flesh near the heart of the flames.
    The large man shifted in the half-light.
    â€œOh, I’m sorry.” Parker stepped beside her, lay a hand on her arm. “Charlotte, I’d like you to meet Jacob Panther.”
    The big man nodded hello. His sandy hair brushed his shoulders, and his features were strong and distinctly mismatched. While there was a boyish smoothness to his skin, the sum of his features radiated the weariness of someone far older.