The Whispering Hollows by Lisa Unger Read Free Book Online
Authors: Lisa Unger
photos were mainly school shotsâyearbook portraits, pictures taken at winter social or homecoming. He had access to the school, to the girls. And yet they were always just out of his reach. He had always been on the outside, laughed at, bullied, and mocked. He expected nothing more from people.
He was a child in a manâs body, not intelligent, with little insight. He lived and worked with his father, who still thought it was okay to hit him on the head when he made a mistake. He was afraid and lonely, a misfit. His mother was goneâdead or left, Eloise didnât know. But there was an emptiness in him always wanting to be filled. She tried to stay as far outside of him as she could. His inner life was a suffocating quicksand. Could she disappear into him? What were the rules? Eloise didnât know. She could hold herself back, though; so she did.
He was a watcher. He stood in the shadows and watched the kids who would have nothing to do with him. Whatever his role was, he was invisible to them. And he had been watching when the girl in the woods was in trouble. He had been following her for days, saw her get into that boyâs car with the other kids. He knew the woods, cut through and got there not long after they arrived by car. He saw her run, heard her scream. He enjoyed her fear. The sound of her frightened voice excited him in a way he didnât quite understand and knew was bad, bad, bad. He did nothing to help her.
After the others left her there, he waited, watching. Would they come back for her? Had they gone for help? Would the police come? When the sun finally set, and darkness fell, and she didnât move, he took her. He ventured out from his hiding place and lifted her tenderly from where she lay.
She was heavy for someone so small. He carried her through the woods over his shoulder with effort, out to an old huntersâ blind that had long been forgotten.
Eloise didnât want to see what he did to her. By some mercy, she was able to turn away from it. Heâd kept some things. One of her barrettes, her underpants. Her heart-shaped locket. They were in the box where he kept the pictures of the other girls, the others he watched.
What heâd seen, what heâd done, had awaked some sleeping dog within him. It was pacing. Eloise didnât know himâwho he was, where he was.
But that voice kept ringing and the crows kept crying. She kept seeing those hands, nails caked black with something, sifting through the pictures. She watched the news, waiting for the story that would make things clear. But there was nothing, until finally one morning after she dropped Amanda off at school, she just couldnât take it anymore. She knew what she needed to do, even though it seemed crazy. She drove to the police station, intending to ask for Ray Muldune, The Hollows Police Departmentâs only detective. What was she going to say to him? She had no idea. She just knew that it was the right time and he was the right person.
When she arrived, the station house was vibrating with urgency. A girl had been reported missing last night. A frantic, all-night search was still under way.
Then she saw the picture that was circulating. A plain girl, with straight blonde hair and smiling dark eyesâSarah. She was an only child, a talented violinist, a good student, someone who would never be late without calling her mother. Eloise realized that she recognized the girl. Eloise had cleaned the Meyersâs house once when she took on jobs to help Alfie make ends meet. It had been a big, gorgeous place with no one home, just a key under the mat at the door.
âI need to see Ray Muldune,â Eloise told the female officer at the front desk.
âIn reference to?â
âI may have some information aboutâSarah.â
The woman held her eyes for a second, a copâs stareâassessing, suspicious, wary. If she recognized Eloise, she didnât say anything. The
He was a child in a manâs body, not intelligent, with little insight. He lived and worked with his father, who still thought it was okay to hit him on the head when he made a mistake. He was afraid and lonely, a misfit. His mother was goneâdead or left, Eloise didnât know. But there was an emptiness in him always wanting to be filled. She tried to stay as far outside of him as she could. His inner life was a suffocating quicksand. Could she disappear into him? What were the rules? Eloise didnât know. She could hold herself back, though; so she did.
He was a watcher. He stood in the shadows and watched the kids who would have nothing to do with him. Whatever his role was, he was invisible to them. And he had been watching when the girl in the woods was in trouble. He had been following her for days, saw her get into that boyâs car with the other kids. He knew the woods, cut through and got there not long after they arrived by car. He saw her run, heard her scream. He enjoyed her fear. The sound of her frightened voice excited him in a way he didnât quite understand and knew was bad, bad, bad. He did nothing to help her.
After the others left her there, he waited, watching. Would they come back for her? Had they gone for help? Would the police come? When the sun finally set, and darkness fell, and she didnât move, he took her. He ventured out from his hiding place and lifted her tenderly from where she lay.
She was heavy for someone so small. He carried her through the woods over his shoulder with effort, out to an old huntersâ blind that had long been forgotten.
Eloise didnât want to see what he did to her. By some mercy, she was able to turn away from it. Heâd kept some things. One of her barrettes, her underpants. Her heart-shaped locket. They were in the box where he kept the pictures of the other girls, the others he watched.
What heâd seen, what heâd done, had awaked some sleeping dog within him. It was pacing. Eloise didnât know himâwho he was, where he was.
But that voice kept ringing and the crows kept crying. She kept seeing those hands, nails caked black with something, sifting through the pictures. She watched the news, waiting for the story that would make things clear. But there was nothing, until finally one morning after she dropped Amanda off at school, she just couldnât take it anymore. She knew what she needed to do, even though it seemed crazy. She drove to the police station, intending to ask for Ray Muldune, The Hollows Police Departmentâs only detective. What was she going to say to him? She had no idea. She just knew that it was the right time and he was the right person.
When she arrived, the station house was vibrating with urgency. A girl had been reported missing last night. A frantic, all-night search was still under way.
Then she saw the picture that was circulating. A plain girl, with straight blonde hair and smiling dark eyesâSarah. She was an only child, a talented violinist, a good student, someone who would never be late without calling her mother. Eloise realized that she recognized the girl. Eloise had cleaned the Meyersâs house once when she took on jobs to help Alfie make ends meet. It had been a big, gorgeous place with no one home, just a key under the mat at the door.
âI need to see Ray Muldune,â Eloise told the female officer at the front desk.
âIn reference to?â
âI may have some information aboutâSarah.â
The woman held her eyes for a second, a copâs stareâassessing, suspicious, wary. If she recognized Eloise, she didnât say anything. The