The Dying Hour by Rick Mofina Read Free Book Online Page B

reverend could hear. And there might be others in the back of the RV.
    Karen strained to listen.
    She forced herself to the crack of light. Pushed hard against it, harder than she’d ever pushed before, so she could see as much as possible. She used her peripheral vision, exerting it until her eyes hurt. She scanned the rear, then the rest of the RV, all the way to the driver’s seat where the reverend was behind the wheel. As best she could tell, no one else was in the vehicle but the three of them.
    And it was night.
    At that moment they slowed down. Karen was jostled as the RV slowed, then turned. Onto another road. A soft quiet road. Almost like sand, or soft earth. The motion rocked Karen side to side. They were definitely off road. A backcountry road? Driving slowly, they climbed, dipped, and turned. Going forever, it seemed. Karen’s heart thumped against her ribs.
    Where’s he taking us?
    The woman above her moaned.
    Brakes creaked. The RV stopped. The engine was turned off and ticked down in the quiet. Karen heard crickets chirping. Heard the reverend get up from behind the wheel and walk toward them, his footfalls growing louder. She felt weight shifting as the mattress above her squeaked, then he walked off. The vehicle tilted as he opened the door and stepped from it.
    Striving to listen, Karen was convinced he had walked away on the soft earth. Convinced she was alone with the woman above her. This was her chance. She swallowed and cleared her throat.
    “Hello.” It was her loudest whisper.
    Silence was the response.
    “Hello. I’m down here under you. In the storage space.”
    A woman’s muffled groan.
    Karen blinked and listened for any sounds of someone approaching before trying again.
    “My name’s Karen. Can you hear me? Are you all right?”
    There was movement on the mattress but no response.
    “We have to get away from him. We have to help each other.”
    The whole frame and mattress began to vibrate above Karen. Then came a loud thud on the floor next to her. Karen gasped and thrust her face to the crack of light.
    Something had fallen onto the floor.
    Her heart stopped.
    She was staring into the horrified round eyes of a young woman who appeared to be her age. Silver duct tape sealed the woman’s mouth.
    Oh God.
    Karen heard the sounds of someone rushing to the RV. Heard the door being yanked open, felt the dip of someone stepping inside, stomping to the bedroom, halting at the sight of the woman splayed on the floor.
    Karen’s body tensed at the sudden loud clank of metal as something was dropped to the floor beside her. She strained against the crack to see a shovel and a saw.

13
----
    S awridge County Detective Hank Stralla had a kind, intelligent face, Marlene Clark thought, sitting across from his desk in his Bellingham office.
    He set a ceramic mug bearing the county’s logo in front of her. His wooden chair creaked as he sat down and sipped from his own cup.
    The corkboard to his left was feathered with county memos, a calendar marking duty and court dates. In one corner she noticed a snapshot of him in a ball cap with a beaming boy who had his eyes. The boy looked to be about seven. They were holding up a fish. On the wall above Stralla there was a clock. Marlene could hear it ticking.
    “How’s the motel?” he asked.
    “Good.” Marlene had arrived the day before, insisting that her husband, Bill, stay with the children in Vancouver. She had to come alone.
    Because if she came alone, it would be all right. It wouldn’t be serious. Police may have found her sister’s car, but it would turn out to be a mistake, a Karen thing, she had lied to herself as she drove, her knuckles whitening on the wheel. God, let this be just a little Karen thing, please!
    Marlene had driven directly to the site on 539 and stayed at the scene. She’d watched the search late into the night, then gone to the motel where she found a Bible on the nightstand and read from it until dawn.
    Day two, and