Stone the Dead Crows (The Sharif Thrillers Book 2) by Carrie Magillen

Stone the Dead Crows (The Sharif Thrillers Book 2) by Carrie Magillen

Author:Carrie Magillen [Magillen, Carrie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781913692070
Publisher: Little Robin Press
Published: 2021-08-09T16:00:00+00:00


TWENTY-THREE

MAGGIE

I sit in the car with the engine running and the driver’s side window wound down. Alfie kicks his car seat with the bored impatience that only a child can muster in less than a minute of sitting still.

Luc leans in through the window and kisses me goodbye, the kiss long and lingering as if I won’t be returning for months rather than hours.

‘I love you,’ he says.

‘I love you too.’

He pats the roof a few times, as if slapping a horse on the rump. But I just sit there, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

‘You have to go,’ he says.

In the rear-view mirror, Alfie’s face is a mess of cuts and dried blood. I close my eyes and grip the steering wheel harder.

‘Maggie.’

‘I know, I know. I’m going.’

I put the car into drive and roll out of the garage, barely touching the accelerator until the crunch of gravel dissipates as we roll on to the track that leads to the main road.

It’s an overcast morning. Bursts of lightning fleck the clouds on the horizon. More rain is on its way. Over the years, storms have bent the trees that line the track inward and their thick canopies form a tunnel. It exacerbates the darkness. A gust of wind blows raindrops on to the screen, and I turn on the wipers. It must have rained while we were tucked up in front of the fire last night.

I have no idea why I’m so reluctant to drive into town. I’m aware that the feeling is completely irrational, but that awareness doesn’t make it go away. I never used to be this way. I’ve always been a firm, decisive person. I’ve always had my wits about me. And, if I’m honest with myself, I know Luc’s right: I’ve been spending far too much time alone, or in the company of Alfie. It’s not healthy for an adult. The Maggie I used to be is getting lost back there at that cabin. Stone by stone, I’m skimming myself across that lake, sinking to the bottom and disappearing in the sand.

The track through the woods is long, and at this speed we’ll take an hour to reach its end. I accelerate. Luc will start to worry if we’re gone too long. Won’t he?

The car bumps along the track, the bonnet bucking occasionally when I hit a pothole, but I don’t slow down. I have to face this irrational fear. I have to go into town; I have no choice. The doctor may decide Alfie needs his tetanus booster early, to be on the safe side, and him not getting it is a risk I cannot take. He’s chatting to himself on the back seat, speaking in bubble-talk.

At the T-junction where the track meets the tarmacked main road, I stop. The road is empty. I switch on the indicator.

But I don’t turn.

Instead, I lean forward and tap my forehead on the steering wheel in frustration. ‘Come on, Maggie. Come on!’

My pep talk dies in the footwell.



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