House by Frank Peretti Read Free Book Online Page B

eyes closed. “Such as where to go in the middle of the night in the Alabama backwoods without wheels.”
    â€œWhat about Lawdale?” Jack wondered aloud. “He said he drives that road every morning. He’ll see our wrecked cars.”
    â€œLawdale?” Randy asked.
    â€œHighway patrol,” Jack said.
    Stephanie peered over Jack’s shoulder, and her eyes filled with dismay.
    Jack looked.
    Betty, Stewart, and Pete were coming their way, walking shoulder to shoulder with Stewart in the middle. Betty looked hurt. “Always running. What are you always running for?”
    Stewart was about ready to take that belt to somebody. “The food was fine till you came in here.”
    Randy stepped out, hand extended in a clear warning. “Keep your distance, please.”
    Stephanie bolted for the front door, flung it open, and dashed out onto the veranda. Jack ran after her.
    She pulled up at the top step, her hands over her mouth.
    â€œSteph, take it easy now. You—”
    She was trembling. She took a step backward. Another step. She was peering down the flagstone walkway.
    Jack approached and touched the small of her back—and then he saw it too.
    Halfway between the house and the gate loomed the immense shape of a man, a shadowy silhouette veiled by a light rain. A duster draped the body to midcalf, and the face was obscured by the shadow of a wide-brimmed, drooping hat. The man held a shotgun, the barrel glinting in the lights lining the path.
    Behind them, Betty sucked in a rasping breath and hissed, “Get inside.”
    They lingered, unsure.
    She lunged and took hold of them. “Get inside! It’s him !”
    The figure started walking their way, the duster billowing, the boot heels clacking on the stones. The barrel of the shotgun swung forward.

6
    JACK AND STEPHANIE WERE ALREADY BACK – pedaling toward the door when they tore their eyes away from the apparition, turned, and dashed inside.
    Jack slammed the door shut and locked it. He snatched a chair from the foyer and wedged it under the knob, momentarily uncertain if they were any safer inside. Well, their hosts were crazy, but they didn’t sport a shotgun.
    Randy rushed from the stairs, demanding, “What is it? What’s going on?”
    â€œGet away from the door!” Betty hissed, flicking off the foyer lights.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Randy said.
    â€œYou don’t want him to see you.”
    They fell silent, motionless, and heard the sharp, staccato clicks of boot heels on the veranda. A shadow rose upon the door’s stained glass, a hulking shape topped by a broad-brimmed hat.
    The barrel of the shotgun came up against the glass. Tap, tap, tap.
    Jack and Stephanie pressed themselves against the wall to the side of the door, watching.
    Tap, tap, tap.
    Leslie whispered, “Who is it?”
    Stephanie shook her head, then mouthed and pantomimed, He has a gun.
    Leslie drew herself up and asked in a calm and quiet voice, “Well, maybe he’s a law officer. Why don’t we ask him who he is and what he wants?”
    Stephanie shook her head .
    â€œHe’s no law officer,” Jack whispered. He grabbed a vase off a stand and took the stand for a weapon, holding it high and ready. “Remember the spikes in the road?” He caught Randy’s eye and jerked his head toward the door. “I don’t think he’s from AAA.”
    Randy stole close to the wall, taking hold of a chair. “He knows we’re in here. That was the whole idea.”
    â€œWhat are we gonna do?” Stephanie squeaked. “Oh, dear God, help us.”
    Where is the loony crew? Jack did a quick check and saw the three peeking through the dining room’s archway. Best not to expect any help from those three. Betty disappeared from view. Click. Dining room lights went out. Stepping out of the prismatic light coming through the stained glass, Jack tightened his grip on the