Prowlers: Wild Things by Christopher Golden Read Free Book Online Page B

patrons inside Bridget's, Courtney walked over. She looked more than a little confused as she glanced from Bill to the retreating form of Lao.
    "You met my new friend?" the bartender asked her.
    Courtney slid onto a stool. "The guy you wouldn't serve? Yes. I just gave him lunch on the house. You want to tell me what that was about?"
    Bill sighed, rested his hands on the countertop. "Sorry. This is your place and I shouldn't take advantage of how we feel about each other like that. He was a jerk, and he caught me at a very bad time."
    With a soft smile, she reached out and covered his huge hands with her small, delicate ones. "I didn't like him either. But I don't want him spreading the word. On the other hand, you're my main concern. What's the story with that guy you were just talking to?"
    "That's Lao. He's . . . well, he's supposed to help me find Olivia. With Jack and Molly leaving in the morning, I know the timing couldn't be worse, but I have to find her, or at least find out what happened to her."
    Courtney reached up to stroke his face. "When do you have to leave?"
    "Tonight at midnight."
    He saw the sadness, the shadow of hurt that fell across her face, but then it was gone. "I guess we're going to find out if my new assistant managers can do the job."
    "I shouldn't be gone more than a few days."
    "Take as long as you need. I hope you find her. I hope she's all right," Courtney said. "But whatever you find down there, you come back to me when you're done, Bill Cantwell.
    "You come home."
     
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
    Despite the half dozen or so Dumpsters in the alley that ran behind Bridget's and the other businesses on Nelson Street, the dark, narrow little passage never really smelled like garbage. Or, at least, it never reeked like Jack always imagined it should given the sheer volume of trash back there, including the refuse from hundreds of meals a day. There was just something about the set of the buildings, these old, half-crumbling edifices that were laid stone upon stone when Boston was young. Somehow the angle of the alley caught the wind off the harbor perfectly and the breeze caught most of the smells and whisked them away.
    Yet on that fine Saturday morning, with the sky a rich shade of blue that seemed to exist only in October in New England, Jack stood outside the open door of his Jeep and he could clearly smell wood burning in a fireplace somewhere nearby. It seemed odd to him, almost impossible, that the wind could take the bitter, rotten smell of garbage and leave behind that warm, comforting fireside aroma. A tiny little miracle, in a way.
    Why isn't life ever really like that? he thought. Sweeping away the ugly, nasty stuff and leaving behind just the good?
    But that was a bit of fantasy, and he knew it. There were good things to be had, perfect, beautiful things, in his life. Jack understood that life was a balance, that light and darkness could only exist together. What he had, the people in his life he loved so much, were things worth braving the darkness for. So he would take the evil with the good. He would fight the monsters.
    Even on a beautiful autumn day with the sun shining and the breeze blowing in all the scents of fall. Even then. Because that was the price he had to pay.
    Molly sat inside the battered old Jeep with a map spread out on her lap. In the back was a wooden trunk with a heavy iron lock on it. The key to the lock was hidden inside the Jeep on the off chance that they might be pulled over for speeding. A quick search of the vehicle would reveal nothing out of the ordinary, but police would have to break the lock on the trunk to open it, and Jack figured most of them wouldn't go that far unless he and Molly gave them a reason, which he didn't plan on doing.
    "I hate leaving you here alone," he said, running a hand through his spiky, close-cropped brown hair.
    Courtney put her weight on her cane and stood a bit taller as she scowled at him. "I can take care of myself, little