In a Dark, Dark Wood by Ruth Ware Read Free Book Online Page A

recoil bruise. At some point in the recent past, I have fired a gun.

5
    ‘ FLO ,’ I STUCK my head around the kitchen door. Flo was loading the dishwasher with cups. ‘Oh, you shouldn’t be doing that all by yourself. Can I help?’
    ‘No! Don’t be silly. It’s done.’ She slammed the dishwasher shut. ‘What is it? Anything I can help with? I’m so sorry about the coffee.’
    ‘What? Oh – honestly, it’s fine. Listen, I was just wondering, what time did you say Clare was due to get here?’
    ‘About six I think.’ She looked up at the kitchen clock. ‘So we’ve got an hour and a half to kill.’
    ‘OK, well I was just wondering – have I got time to go for a quick run?’
    ‘A run?’ She looked startled. ‘Well, I guess – but it’s getting dark.’
    ‘I won’t go far. It’s just—’ I shifted awkwardly. I couldn’t explain it to her. I have trouble explaining it to myself, but I had to get out, get away.
    I run almost every day at home. I have about four different routes, variations going through Victoria Park in fine weather or street runs when it’s wet or dark. I give myself a couple of days off a week – they say you should, to let your muscles repair – but sooner or later the need builds up and then I have to run. If I don’t, I get … I don’t know what you’d call it. Cabin fever, maybe. A kind of claustrophobia. I hadn’t run yesterday – I’d been too busy packing and tying up loose ends – and now I felt a powerful itch to get out of this box-like house. It’s not about the physical exercise – or at least, it’s not only that. I’ve tried running in a gym, on a treadmill, and it’s not the same. It’s about getting out, not having walls around myself, being able to get away .
    ‘I guess you’ve got time,’ Flo said, glancing out the window at the deepening twilight, ‘but you’d better be quick. When it gets dark here it gets really, really dark.’
    ‘I’ll be quick. Is there a route I should go for?’
    ‘Hmm … I think your best bet would be to take the forest path down— Hang on, come through to the living room.’ She led me through and pointed out of the huge window-wall to a shadowy gap in the forest. ‘See, that’s a footpath. It leads down through the wood to the main road. It’ll be firmer and less muddy than the drive – much easier to run. You just follow it down until you hit tarmac, but then I’d turn right along the main road and come back up the drive – it’ll be too dark by then to run back through the forest, the path isn’t fenced and you could end up going in totally the wrong direction. Hang on,’ she went back to the kitchen, rummaged in a drawer and pulled out something that looked like a set of badly folded suspenders. ‘Take this – it’s a head-torch.’
    I thanked her, and hurried up to my room to pull on my running gear and trainers. Nina was lying on her bed, looking up at the ceiling and listening to something on her iPhone.
    ‘That Flo’s quite the fruitloop, isn’t she?’ she said conversationally as I came in, pulling out her earphones.
    ‘Is that a medical term, Dr da Souza?’
    ‘Yes. From the Latin Fruitus Lupus , fruit of the moon, associated with the pagan belief that insanity was connected to bathing in the light of the full moon.’
    I began laughing as I pulled off my jeans and yanked on my thermal running leggings and top.
    ‘ Lupus is Latin for wolf. You’re thinking of luna . Where are my trainers? I left them by the door.’
    ‘I chucked them under the bed. Anyway, werewolves turn crazy at the full moon. Same diff. Speaking of crazy, are you going out?’
    ‘Yes.’ I bent to look under the bed. There were my trainers, miles underneath. Thanks, Nina. I knelt and began fishing with my arm, my voice muffled by the bedclothes as I asked, ‘Why?’
    ‘Let me see.’ She began ticking off the reasons on her fingers. ‘It’s dark, you don’t know the neighbourhood, there’s free wine and