Dead Inside (A Kelsey Hawk FBI Suspense Thriller—Book One) by Kate Bold

Author:Kate Bold [Bold, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2023-11-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A fresh layer of snow meant the roads had become treacherous, so he slowed the vehicle, carefully navigating the roads he had driven hundreds of times. It was one of the many things his father had instilled in him before he passed—no matter how much you know something, always do it thoroughly and do it right. He might have driven these roads numerous times and dealt with worse conditions, but over-confidence got you into trouble. Professional drivers crashed all the time, and they were better trained than anyone. He was confident he would reach his destination but did not switch off or move into autopilot. He watched the road as if his life depended on it.

And he did not want the hassle of having to call a tow truck if he spun off the road and into the ditch. His truck had four-wheel drive, but that was a safety net that was not worth testing. The best safety net was the one that never needed to be used.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked as they continued down the long and winding road.

He chuckled to himself. He had not thought of the song in a long time, but it came flooding back to him like a crashing waterfall. He sang along in his head. He might have sung out loud if he could hold a tune. Another thing that had been instilled in him was knowing your limits. It was great to have ambitions and dreams, but they should live within your parameters. He knew he could not sing, so he would never try to pursue a career in singing, no matter how much he dreamed of it. He didn’t dream of it at all, of course—he was merely illustrating the point to himself. Be careful and deliberate in everything you do, and act within your limitations, and you will be fine.

The radio crackled back into life as he neared the small town. Even though the drive was familiar, he was always intoxicated by the beauty of the town as it reared into view. The large wooden bridge stood magnificent, stained rich walnut against the white snow. Sometimes, the ice river beneath would reflect the bridge, but a light dusting of snow had removed the mirror. Still, it wasn’t any less impressive.

There was something about bridges that had stuck in his mind since childhood. He had explored his fascination with them but had never been able to pinpoint where the love had come from. He would never employ a therapist to explore it—those hacks were not worth the money. There was a transitional aspect to them—the crossing of a boundary. A river, even a small one, meant death in winter. You might cross it, but it would cut you to the bone, dragging the life from you even as you walked away. Yet, a simple bridge guarded against death. Cross over a bridge, and you were safe; go under, and you better be careful.

They were a testament to humankind, a subtle reminder that obstacles could be conquered.

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