The Uninvited Read Free Page A

I said, Mike. You heard me right. Clicking. The damnest sound I ever heard in my life. Clicking. No other word for it.”
    Sheriff Grant looked at his chief deputy, sitting across the room. Walt Burns shrugged his shoulders and asked, “You been drinking, Jim?”
    â€œNow, damnit, Walt!” The farmer shifted his gaze from the floor to the deputy. His face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “You know damn well I haven’t had a drink in ten years. Not since I joined the church. You know that for a fact.”
    â€œI had to ask, Jim.”
    â€œS’okay. I understand. No hard feelings. You got a job to do.”
    â€œDid you see anything that might have caused this clicking sound?” Sheriff Grant asked.
    â€œNothing. That’s what kinda spooked me.”
    â€œWe’ll check it out, Jim,” Mike assured the man. “And thanks for coming in.”
    â€œDidn’t mean to get all sulled up, Mike. But I got scared out there in that field. Really scared. And what bugs me is I don’t know why.”
    Mike smiled. “Jim, you wouldn’t be human if you didn’t get scared time to time. I do, believe me.”
    The office door closed behind the farmer. Sheriff Grant leaned back in his chair. “That’s three disappearances today, Walt. And it’s still early.”
    â€œWe going to sit on it?”
    â€œTight. Got to, until we find out what in the hell is goin’ on.”
    Walt got to his feet. “I’ll check this one out.”
    Walt?” Sheriff Grant said. The deputy met his eyes. “You be careful.”
    The chief deputy nodded his understanding and left the room.
    Burns headed out into the Parish, toward Hampton’s place. What was happening in the Parish was a mystery to him, but he wasn’t spooky about it. He didn’t doubt Jim’s words about hearing something, but it was something that could probably be explained away, like some damned ornery kids hiding out in the field making funny noises, getting a good laugh out of scaring the grownups.
    As for where Fowler and Harris had gone off to—who the hell knew? Probably found a woman and were taking turns humping her in some hunting camp back in the timber. But why would they leave their trucks sitting by the side of the road? That part didn’t make any sense.
    But nothing about this really made any sense, he concluded. Any of it.
    Chief Deputy Burns found the trucks and carefully looked around for any signs of violence. He found nothing out of the ordinary. There was no traffic on the Parish road. He had not seen one car or truck since turning on to Parish 119. Odd, he thought. He looked across the road to the house belonging to the Jeffersons. Grass needed mowing. Odd, ’cause Mrs. Jefferson loved to work in the yard. Her car and his truck in the drive, so both of them were home.
    Walt shook his head and stepped out into the bean field, walking the rows. He heard no clicking.
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    The housewife swung the broom savagely, crushing the life from the ugly bug: She had never seen a bug so frightening—so ugly! And so big. And something else: it acted like it wasn’t afraid of her. It stood its ground and glared at her. And it hissed and clicked and finally tried to attack her.
    With the toe of her new tennis shoes, she pushed the dead thing onto a dust pan and, with a grimace, dropped the monster into the trash.
    â€œDamn that pest control man!” she said. “He said I wouldn’t be bothered with bugs this year.”
    The house was quiet this time of the morning. She looked around the kitchen: spotless and good-smelling, with the faint odor of hotcakes and bacon from breakfast lingering with the smell of ribbon cane syrup and the pie baking in the oven.
    She glanced out the window. Something had moved out in the back yard, over by the equipment shed. She looked again. Nothing. Well, she thought, there was something. That huge dark