Frozen Stiff: Volume 1 (A Chase Adams FBI Thriller) by Patrick Logan

Author:Patrick Logan
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Pathological Ink
Published: 2017-12-03T06:00:00+00:00

PART II - TRYING TO SWIM

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ONE WEEK AGO

CHAPTER 25

“DID YOU ENJOY THE CHILDREN’S Museum?” Peter Dortmeir asked his son. When the boy didn’t answer, he squeezed his hand.

“Ryder? Did you like the museum?”

The boy looked up at him with his pale blue eyes.

“I loved it,” he said with a grin.

Peter laughed and he tousled his son’s hair.

“Good. Now… what’s next? Lunch? You hungry?”

“Starving!”

“Alright, let’s go grab something to eat then.”

Peter lifted his eyes and peered along the boardwalk. It was bright and relatively warm for a March afternoon and he was forced to squint to see clearly. It was only his second time in downtown Boston, and his first at the Children’s Museum, which was situated on Fort Point Channel. In the distance, he saw a small footbridge, and just beyond that he saw a yellow sign that read: GROWLING CRAB.

I could do crab… I could definitely do crab.

“Your mom ever feed you crab, Ryder?”

Ryder grunted.

“Now way. Gross. They’re like underwater spiders.”

Peter chuckled.

They were a little like underwater spiders. If spiders were absolutely succulent and delicious, which he was fairly certain they were not.

“I’m sure they have hot dogs or KD, too, if that’s what you want.”

“Awesome!”

With that, Ryder pulled away from him, his tiny hand slipping from Peter’s palm. He darted ahead, weaving his way through several large, decorative boulders that had been placed on the boardwalk.

Peter watched him go, a smile still on his face.

How long has it been since Joelle let me have him for the entire weekend without supervision?

He wasn’t sure, but it had to be three, maybe even four months. And Peter missed just holding his hand, watching the five-year-old boy run amok.

Ryder pulled himself onto one of the smaller boulders with relative ease, then leapt to another, higher stone.

Peter picked up the pace.

“Hey Ryder, why don’t you get down from there?”

Ryder laughed and looked toward the tallest of the three stones, one that was at least eight feet up and three and a half feet higher than the one on which he presently stood.

When he reached for a groove in this taller rock, Peter hurried to catch up to him.

“Hey! Ryder! Get down from there, okay?”

Ryder grunted, and his mitt slipped on the snow-slickened surface. His boots were still rooted on the other stone, but he had moved onto his toes in order to stretch even further.

“Ryder!” Peter shouted, breaking into a jog. His heart started to race when he saw one of the boy’s boots slip, his mitten stretching enough to reveal a thin patch of pale skin on his wrist.

Peter wrapped his arm around Ryder’s knees just as his grip failed.

“Jesus, Ryder! What are you thinking?” he said in a huff as he lowered him to the ground.

A gap-toothed smile remained on his son’s face.

“I’m good at climbing. Mommy says so.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’m not mommy, alright? You need to be more careful.”

Ryder shrugged, and then immediately made his way toward the railing overlooking the channel.

“Shit,” Peter grumbled as he struggled to keep up.

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