Once Upon a Grind by Cleo Coyle Read Free Book Online Page A

Manhattan’s lights painting the horizon an eerie purple.
    I hurried to my coffee truck and climbed in the back door.
    Esther looked up. “Nancy and I already emptied the thermal Air-Pots—”
    â€œFill them again,” I commanded. Then I told them about Jeremy and Molly. They were both upset and asked to help. “Take care of the truck. And after the coffee is ready, notify the officer in charge that free java is available to all police and park personnel helping with the search.”
    Rummaging through the utility drawer, I found a heavy Maglite. I tested its beam—and accidentally blinded Esther.
    â€œYow!” she howled, rubbing her eyes. “Why do you need the flashlight?”
    â€œIt’s dark outside!” I called, dashing for the door.
    On the grass, my legs began eating up ground until something caught my arm. “Whoa, Nellie!” Prince Matt stared down at me with suspicion. “Where are you galloping so fast?”
    â€œWhere do you think? To find my boyfriend’s kids!”
    â€œYes, but
where
?”
    I told him my destination and Matt frowned.
    â€œClare, I’m not about to let you wander around Central Park’s woods alone.”
    â€œThen I guess you’re coming.”

T HIRTEEN

    U SING my dream as a guide, I started at Belvedere Castle—where Molly and Jeremy
should
have met their mother.
    The Victorian folly was perched on top of Vista Rock, the second highest point in the entire park, and Matt complained about stiff boots and sore feet during the whole climb.
    â€œMolly! Jeremy!”
    A howl of wind was the only reply.
    It set me to shivering (and kicking myself for not covering my peasant costume with a nice, warm hoodie). Ignoring the chill, I adjusted my babushka, untying the strings from beneath my ponytail and retying them under my chin. Now I looked like Baba Yaga, but at least my ears were warm as I led Matt across the brightly lit observation deck to stone steps cut into the steep hillside.
    After the castle’s bright lights, our descent felt like a plunge into a black abyss. Cold, damp air hung like a fog around us, and the strong scent of earth and autumn leaves wafted up from the forest below.
    At the bottom of the rustic staircase, we followed the downward sloping dirt trail and entered the wooded maze known as the Ramble.
    I activated the Maglite. Its powerful beam seemed impressive back at the truck, but in these thick shadows, the light was easily dispersed.
    â€œMolly! Jeremy!” I called as we moved deeper into the darkness. A wind gust rustled the dry leaves, sending another chill through me. After more minutes of silent walking, I glanced at Matt.
    â€œYou’re awfully quiet.”
    â€œThese woods are creepy.”
    I sent the flashlight beam across his face. “You look tense. Are you scared?”
    â€œNo. Just . . . uneasy.”
    I couldn’t believe it. “The fearless world traveler is rattled by a few trees?”
    â€œ
These
trees, growing out of
this
earth.”
    â€œIs that supposed to mean something?”
    â€œWhen I was a kid, I told my mother that I was spending the night at a friend’s apartment, but I really spent it in these woods. Three of my buddies and I did it on a dare.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAn old homeless guy saw us horsing around. He gathered us together and told us New York ghost stories for hours, including the true history of an early Dutch director general who ordered the massacre of two villages of Native American families. Men, women, children, grandparents—they were all killed right here on Manhattan Island, most while they slept.”
    â€œThat’s horrible.”
    â€œThe Dutch official was ordered back to Amsterdam, but he never got there. His ship sank in a storm with everyone on board. The old man said he was cursed. The ghosts of the murdered families pulled him into the dark, icy depths.” Matt