Whiteout by Brett Cain

Author:Brett Cain
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mormon;lds;clean;suspense;snow;winter;snowed in;killer;settup;road;framed;mystery
Publisher: Covenant Communications, Inc.
Published: 2018-11-21T22:31:42+00:00

Chapter Nine

The clock in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen said it was half past three in the morning.

I was tired and would have to wait for daylight before gath-ering any more intel. The adrenaline had worn off, and I rubbed my eyes.

I had dated a girl once whose mom had been a sleep doctor. There was a technical name, but I never learned what it was. She told me you shouldn’t look at an electronic screen within two hours of bedtime. Something about the blue-green or green-blue light stimulates the brain. It didn’t seem to be waking me up at all. I could have folded my arms on the desk and snoozed right then, but I didn’t.

Because I remembered Strawn asking where Lang had been when they were at the scene of the house fire. I suddenly worried that the killer and his comrade were perhaps picking off their opposition one at a time. Without a police force, the snowed-in town would be a sitting duck in a frozen pond.

I looked in vain for a way to return the computer to its locked screen. Finding nothing, I just hit a button on the bottom of the monitor that made the screen go dark. Then I went back to the trusty phone book. I found Sergeant Lang easily enough. Tore out the page. I figured I might as well pay him a wellness check. I also looked for Strawn’s address, just in case he was in trouble, too, but he wasn’t listed. Off the grid. My kind of guy.

Or maybe he had no landline. Just a cell.

I grabbed French’s address, too, in case I needed to make a house call there.

I didn’t care about Rock.

I looked around one more time, finding nothing of interest. The trip had been fruitful, even if I hadn’t caught the killer. I knew a little more than I did before. I had a sense of direction, a starting point in the way of some addresses of people to visit—even though Strawn had told me to stay out, I was counting on him to take all the help he could get as time went on—plus a bottle of water and a photo of a pretty girl. Not bad for a night’s work.

I nodded at the cleaning couple and tried to avoid all the wet spots on the floor. I didn’t want to ruin their work, which seemed to have been a lot more labor-intensive than mine had been.

When jumping into cold water, the best way was to plunge in, not to wade or tiptoe. So I did that same thing with the frigid night. I started jogging even before the door closed. I thought I heard my car far away. Somewhere a dog barked, and the wind howled. I picked up the pace, painfully. Each breath was laced with daggers of frozen flame. It burned to breathe, and my feet were leaden. I almost tripped once or twice, but I was worried about Mary and Agnes, so I kept a fast pace.

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