Indigo Moon by Gill McKnight

Author:Gill McKnight [McKnight, Gill]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781602822016
Google: tNglOwWk5PkC
Amazon: 1602822018
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2011-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

“Why have you behaved in such a manipulative and controlling way? Why have you hidden me in this valley and seduced me when I was at my most vulnerable?”

It amazed her. These vehicles were her ticket home, and yet here she was hesitating, wanting to talk, wanting to see Ren again and not just disappear without a word. She was borderline insane to hesitate even a second. She needed to get out. If she still felt like this when she got home then they could talk—long distance! First step was to find a set of car keys.

Only the cookhouse lights were on, and after a quick rap on the door Isabelle entered to find the huge kitchen empty. Good. A furtive check of every cupboard and drawer produced no keys. She went back to the porch and frowned at the curious quiet. All the vehicles were accounted for, but no one was home? She checked the bunkhouse; it was empty, too. Not even Mouse was there, and it was well past her bedtime. Isabelle’s hope for a set of car keys left on a bedside table soon evaporated. Wherever they were, their keys were in their pockets. But where were they?

The barn door still lay ajar. One step into its murky interior and she knew it was deserted. The entire complex was deserted. Uncertain, she went back to the yard and contemplated the row of vehicles, unsure what to do next. I wish I knew how to hotwire a truck.

The howling started on the far side of the valley and shook her out of her indecision. An answering chorus tore across the Tearfell, carried by the wind. Her skin tingled with excitement. The smell of smoke brushed her nostrils. It was not cookhouse or bunkhouse smoke. This came from farther down the valley. She could see it rising, dancing on gusts of wind like a pale specter. Smoke was an ominous sign in the forest during summer, but what did it mean in the depths of winter?

Joey’s huge black quad sat before her. Would Joey carry his keys with him all day long? He couldn’t even ride his quad with his bad leg. What had he done with them after she had returned his bike that afternoon? Think, Isabelle, think. She strode over and unclipped the seat. Joey had stashed his keys underneath. She blessed his predictability and started the engine. It burst into life, loud and unforgiving. The roar was whisked away by the wind, its horsepower an ineffectual whisper against the raw power of nature. She twisted hard on the throttle to prevent the engine from stalling. Maybe it was the colder night air, but the engine seemed temperamental and sluggish.

She took the dirt track for Big Tree and kept an eye out for where it forked off to meet with the logging road near the north end of the valley. She knew she could find her way to Big Tree easily enough in the moonlight, but Joey still hadn’t fixed the headlights, so finding the exit track would be tricky.

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