Silver Falls Read Free

out into the damp night, closing thedoor of the house behind him and double locking the door. He’d left no lights on—he was religious about saving electricity. “And what you are is perfect,” he said. “Do you mind us taking your car? Mine still smells from that run-in with a dead deer.”
    â€œOf course. Do you want me to take your car and get it washed tomorrow?”
    He shook his head. “You know how silly I am…It’s my baby, and I hate to have anyone else touch it, even you, darling. I’ll see to it. I can use the Range Rover until then.”
    David loved his Range Rover with an Anglophile’s passion, and it seldom saw the light of day. It usually sat in state in David’s immaculate garage.
    She said nothing. David had his life arranged to perfection, and who was she to argue? So she merely smiled indulgently, tucked her perfect little evening bag under her perfect arm, and got in the car with her perfect husband. It was going to be a long night.
    Â 
    Caleb Middleton ducked beneath the tarp that covered what should have been the hallway in his house and headed into the half-finished bathroom. He expected that the plumbing would have died, but he turned the faucet and rust-colored water dribbled out, slowly at first, then turning into a steady stream. He turned on the shower—no hotwater, of course, but the gravity-fed pump was working—and he stripped off his muddy clothes and shoes and stepped in.
    He didn’t close his eyes. He could still see her body, trapped in the branches. He’d called the police, anonymously, but Maggie Bannister wouldn’t have any trouble tracking his cell phone. And then the questions would begin, and he’d lie, and no one would believe him. Maggie had always kept a distrustful eye on him when she was a simple beat cop—now that she was the sheriff she’d be even more likely to think the worst of him.
    There was even a musty towel in the open shelves under the sink. He pulled it out, to find that something had eaten a large hole in it. It didn’t matter. He dried himself and pulled on clean clothes, then picked up the muddy ones and wrapped them in the towel. If it ever stopped raining long enough he’d burn them. Otherwise he’d bury them and forget about it. If he could.
    In the years he’d been gone his half-finished house hadn’t been abandoned—there was a pile of firewood and kindling by the woodstove, dozens of empty beer bottles and an ashtray full of roaches. Teenagers must have used the place for a makeout spot. He didn’t mind—he would have done the same. Had done the same.
    He walked across the rough floors to the frontof the living room and looked down over the town of Silver Falls. The clouds hung low, but he could see the outlines of the college campus where his brother and father worked, the streets of the small town laid out in perfect order. The waterfall was up behind him, and he could hear it roaring down over the steady sound of rain. After years in the deserts of Iraq and Afghanistan he should have welcomed the rain.
    It smelled like death to him. Death and decay and despair. They were part of his everyday life, and yet here, in a peaceful little town, death was stronger than in the war zones where he worked.
    He was here to face death, and the questions that had always plagued him, questions that he’d avoided finding the answers to. But that had changed—he couldn’t hide from the ugly truth any more. Starting with the dead woman caught in the branches at the bottom of the falls.
    Maybe he shouldn’t have called the cops, but he couldn’t just leave her there. He stared out at the curtain of rain that separated his half-finished house from the rest of the world. He’d need to get his generator up and running, he’d need to replace the wind-shredded tarp that flapped in the wind. He’d need to do any number of things before