Shadow Creek Read Free Page B

Stuart asked.
    “You know, for protection.”
    “Why would we need protection?” Ellen asked.
    “You obviously haven’t heard about those people who got murdered last week in the Berkshires,” Nikki said matter-of-factly.
    The butter knife slipped from Stuart’s hand. It ricochetedoff the counter before dropping to the floor, where it bounced along the wide wooden planks before disappearing underneath the stove. “What people?” he and Ellen asked together, their voices overlapping.
    “This old couple in the Berkshires,” Nikki said. “They lived alone, miles from anyone, just like you guys. Somebody butchered them.”
    Ellen realized she was holding her breath.
    “Hacked them to pieces,” Nikki continued. “It was pretty nasty. Police said their place looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood everywhere. It was in all the papers. You didn’t read about it?”
    “No,” Ellen said, glancing at her husband with eyes that said, Get this girl out of my house now!
    “Terrible thing. Apparently, whoever did it, they almost cut the poor guy’s head right off. Here, you want to read about it?” She grabbed her canvas bag from the floor and fished inside it, retrieving a piece of neatly folded newspaper. She unfolded it carefully and handed it to Ellen.
    Ellen glanced at the lurid headline, ELDERLY COUPLE SLAUGHTERED IN REMOTE CABIN , and the accompanying grainy, black-and-white photograph of two body bags lying on stretchers, surrounded by grim-faced police. “Why would you be carrying something like this around?” she asked.
    Nikki shrugged. “How’s that sandwich coming along, Stuart? You need some help?” She pushed herself off the sofa and walked into the kitchen.
    What’s going on here? Ellen wondered, trying not to overreact. “I think we should call your parents,” she heard herself say, barely recognizing the tentativeness in her voice.
    “Can’t. I’m not getting any reception on my cell, and your phone’s dead.”
    There was a second’s silence.
    “How do you know our phone is dead?” Ellen asked.
    Nikki smiled sweetly. “Oh. Because my boyfriend cut the wires.” Then she marched purposefully to the front door and opened it.
    A young man filled the doorway. As if on cue, a streak of lightning slashed across the sky, highlighting the coldness in his eyes, the cruel twist of his lips, and the polished blade of the machete in his hand.
    “Hi, babe,” Nikki said with a giggle as the young man burst inside the cottage. “Meet tomorrow’s press clippings.”
    Stuart lunged toward the drawer containing an assortment of kitchen knives, but despite years of regular exercise, he was easily overpowered by the merciless young man, whose machete ripped across Stuart’s wrinkled neck in one fluid, almost graceful, motion. “Ellen,” Ellen heard her husband whimper, the word gurgling from his open throat as he collapsed to the floor, the young man on top of him, slashing at his limp form repeatedly, Stuart’s once-vibrant eyes rolling dully toward the ceiling.
    “Stuart!” Ellen screamed, spinning around in helpless circles, knowing there was nowhere for her to run. She felt the girl at her back, hostile hands in her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her jugular to the executioner’s blade. She felt something slash across her throat, watched in horror as a whoosh of blood shot from her body in an impressively wide arc.
    Fifty years together, she was thinking. Such a long time. And then suddenly, without warning, it’s over.
This is way too violent to last very long
, she thought, recalling her husband’s earlier words regarding the storm.
    She fell to her knees, saying a silent goodbye to her sons as she watched the room turn upside down. The last thing she saw before one last thrust of the knife closed her eyes once and for all was the warm and loving face of her mother.

ONE
    B RIANNE,” VALERIE CALLED FROM the foot of the stairs, “how are you doing up there?”
    No