Dunston Falls Read Free

“With a little luck, I’ll meet you back at Deb’s for dinner.”
    Bender mounted a snowmobile, put it in gear, gunned it and raced up the exit ramp to the street.
    Peck waited a moment, the older bull in not so much a hurry as the younger one, then climbed aboard his snowmobile. He put the machine in gear, and then gently guided it up the exit ramp to the street.
     
    Peck accepted the hospitality of the Johnson family and stepped inside to warm himself by the fireplace and sip the hot chocolate Mrs. Johnson prepared by boiling milk in a pan over the fire.
    Mr. Johnson’s first name was William and he went by Bill. He and his wife had two small children, which he supported by driving a truck for the paper company. Their home was a three bedroom, Tudor that was set back a hundred yards off a fire road. Bender was right, if you didn’t know the layout of the land, homes like the Johnson’s could be easily missed.
    Peck said, “It would be better if you could get the kids to the church or hospital for a few days. Bring food, blankets and whatever water you can manage.”
    Mrs. Johnson shook her head. “We don’t have a portable radio, sheriff. How much longer is the storm expected to last?”
    “The weather service said another week, but power could be down for several weeks to a month,” Peck said in between sips of hot chocolate.
    “Weeks to a month?” Bill said. “We don’t have enough food to last that long.”
    “Nobody does, but the hospital has a freezer and so does the diner,” Peck said. “We’ll manage.”
    “I’ll start packing,” Mrs. Johnson said.
    Bill turned to his wife. “Don’t forget that case of Coca Cola in the basement. At seven cents a bottle, we might as well drink it.”
    Peck handed Bill his cup. “Thanks for the coco. I’ll see you in town.”
     
    Peck drove the snowmobile down a long, ice-covered dirt road on his way to his tenth stop of the morning. By the time he reached the driveway of Deb Robertson’s home, his slicker was encased in a frozen layer of ice. He shook it off, feeling like a wet dog as he walked up the two flights of steps to the front door.
    Deb Robertson opened the door before Peck knocked. “I heard the snowmobile,” she said. She was a slim and very attractive woman of forty-five, with shoulder length, dark hair and gray eyes that were positively haunting.
    Peck pulled the hood of the slicker off his face and stomped his feet to get some feeling going.
    “What are you doing out in weather like this, sheriff?” Deb said.
    “This storm. We have a statewide emergency. People need to be notified.”
    Deb held the door open for Peck and stepped out of the way. “For God’s sake, come inside before you freeze to death.”
     
    Logs crackled in the stone fireplace as Deb poured Peck a cup of coffee in the living room, where he sat on the sofa. Although rustic in design, the home contained every modern appliance and convenience of the day. Somehow, Deb managed to bring together the old and the new and make it fit so her home had an engaging and comfortable feel to it, like an old style bed and breakfast.
    “I have a generator.” Deb explained. “I’ve been running it every two hours for fifteen minutes.” She poured a cup for herself and sat down next to Peck on the sofa.
    “I have enough firewood out back to last until spring, so I’m not worried about myself.”
    Peck sipped the hot coffee, felt it warm his stomach. “Can you run the diner by generator?”
    “For as long as the gas holds out, maybe a week.”
    “We’ll need it,” Peck said. “We’re setting up the hospital and church as shelters. We could have as much as two hundred people living in town by tonight. What do you have for food in storage?”
    “I just had a delivery. Several weeks of frozen, a month of canned goods, but there is no way I can make it there in this.”
    “I’ll stop back before dark and give you a lift.”
    “Wait. Don’t go just yet. It’s so… creepy