(2008) Blue Heaven by CJ Box

Author:CJ Box [Box, CJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Corvus
Published: 2010-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

Sunday, 7:05 A.M.

WHEN THE sun broke over the mountains, Villatoro was in his compact on a two-lane state highway headed west, trying to get a better sense of where he was, what this place was about. His back was stiff from sleeping in the too-soft bed, and his belly rumbled with hunger. He’d been awake since five, spent an hour drinking the entire pot of bad weak coffee from the motel room coffeemaker and watching cable exercise shows in his bed. He skirted the lakeshore, plunged into shadow and mist, and emerged on a straightaway and an ancient bridge over the inlet of the lake. Dark, forested mountains rose sharply on his left. The road was bordered by heavy brush and knee-high grass beaded with dew, and when the sun cascaded over the peaks, it ignited the droplets, creating fields of sparks. The air smelled of damp pine.

He got a better read on the area as he distanced himself from the town of Kootenai Bay. It was a community in transition, with a new population and culture superimposing itself over another. Older, smaller homes were near the road. Many of them had lawn decorations made of massive old circular saw blades with alpine scenes painted on them. There was something quaint, but tired, about the older homes, no doubt occupied by past generations of families who worked in the original extraction industries of logging and mining. These homes had postage-stamp lawns, small white fences, and a sense of humility about them, a conscious effort by the owners not to overreach. Then there were the huge new glass-and-log homes with sweeping grounds, gleaming new SUVs parked in circular driveways, and attractive new signs out front with names like “Duck Creek Ranch,” “Elkhorn Estate,” “Spruce Casa.” And HOMESITE FOR SALE signs everywhere. A whole new community was forming around the skeleton of the old one. Golf courses were being constructed. Quaint shops and espresso bars occupied old storefronts that still had fading painted signs on their porticos reading GENERAL STORE or NIGHTCRAWLERS.

Within sight of the Montana border, he turned around and drove back. There was more traffic on the road now, and more human activity. Newspapers were being delivered, four-wheel-drive pickups were parked in front of restaurants for breakfast, the drivers pausing to finish cigarettes before entering. By contrast, thin, bronzed women of indeterminate age, some with dogs on leashes, jogged along the lakeshore in tight, colorful clothing, iPod earbuds wired to their heads.

As he reentered town, he checked his watch. It was still too early for Celeste to have come to work if she got the message from him the night before, and therefore much too soon to expect any information on Newkirk. He drove downtown, and swung into a space behind a battered pickup across from an old-fashioned diner called the Panhandle Cafe.

As he killed the engine and reached for his keys, he looked up through the windshield and gasped. The massive round face of a bear stared straight at him from six feet away.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.