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.Objectivity first.Maybe her research leaned hertoward the odd label, but there would be no making up her mind until she d seen for herself, done herinterviews, taken her notes, scoped out the local library.And, maybe most important, seen the PaganStone in person.She loved poking at all the corners and cobwebs of small towns, digging down under thefloorboards for secrets and surprises, listening to the gossip, the local lore and legend.She d made a tiny name for herself doing a series of articles on quirky, off-the-mainstream townsfor a small press magazine called Detours.And since her professional appetite was as well-developed asher bodily one, she d taken a risky leap and written a book, following the same theme, but focusing on asingle town in Maine reputed to be haunted by the ghosts of twin sisters who d been murdered in aboardinghouse in 1843.The critics had called the result engaging and good, spooky fun, except for the ones who ddeemed it preposterous and convoluted.She d followed it up with a book highlighting a small town in Louisiana where the descendent of avoodoo priestess served as mayor and faith healer.And, Quinn had discovered, had been running a verysuccessful prostitution ring.But Hawkins Hollow she could just feel it was going to be bigger, better, meatier.She couldn t wait to sink her teeth in.The fast-food joints, the businesses, the ass-to-elbow houses gave way to bigger lawns, biggerhomes, and to fields sleeping under the dreary sky.pdfMachineIs a pdf writer that produces quality PDF files with ease!Produce quality PDF files in seconds and preserve the integrity of your original documents.Compatible acrossnearly all Windows platforms, if you can print from a windows application you can use pdfMachine.Get yours now!file://C:\Documents and Settings\Administrator\Local Settings\Temp\Rar$EX03.813\Nora.3/3/2008BloodBrothers Page 45 of 257The road wound, dipped and lifted, then veered straight again.She saw a sign for the AntietamBattlefield, something else she meant to investigate and research firsthand.She d found little snippetsabout incidents during the Civil War in and around Hawkins Hollow.She wanted to know more.When her GPS and Caleb s directions told her to turn, she turned, following the next road past agrove of naked trees, a scatter of houses, and the farms that always made her smile with their barns andsilos and fenced paddocks.She d have to find a small town to explore in the Midwest next time.A haunted farm, or theweeping spirit of a milkmaid.She nearly ignored the directions to turn when she saw the sign for Hawkins Hollow (est.1648).As with the Quarter Pounder, her heart longed to indulge, to drive into town rather than turn off towardCaleb Hawkins s place.But she hated to be late, and if she got caught up exploring the streets, thecorners, the look of the town, she certainly would be late for her first appointment.Soon, she promised, and turned to take the road winding by the woods she knew held the PaganStone at their heart.It gave her a quick shiver, and that was strange.Strange to realize that shiver had been fear and notthe anticipation she always felt with a new project.As she followed the twists of the road, she glanced with some unease toward the dark and denudedtrees.And hit the brakes hard when she shifted her eyes back to the road and saw something rush out infront of her.She thought she saw a child oh God, oh God then thought it was a dog.And then it wasnothing.Nothing at all on the road, nothing rushing to the field beyond.Nothing there but herself andher wildly beating heart in the little red car.Trick of the eye, she told herself, and didn t believe it.Just one of those things.But she restarted the car that had stalled when she d slammed the brakes, then eased to the strip ofdirt that served as the shoulder of the road.She pulled out her notebook, noted the time, and wrote downexactly what she thought she d seen.Young boy, abt ten.Lng blck hair, red eyes.He LOOKED right at me.Did I blink? Shut my eyes?Opened, & saw lrg blck dog, not boy.Then poof.Nothing there.Cars passed her without incident as she sat a few moments more, waited for the trembling to stop.Intrepid writer balks at first possible phenom, she thought, turns around, and drives her adorablered car to the nearest Mickey D s for a fat-filled antidote to nerves.She could do that, she considered.Nobody could charge her with a felony and throw her intoprison.And if she did that, she wouldn t have her next book, or any self-respect.Man up, Quinn, she ordered.You ve seen spooks before.pdfMachineIs a pdf writer that produces quality PDF files with ease!Produce quality PDF files in seconds and preserve the integrity of your original documents.Compatible acrossnearly all Windows platforms, if you can print from a windows application you can use pdfMachine.Get yours now!file://C:\Documents and Settings\Administrator\Local Settings\Temp\Rar$EX03.813\Nora.3/3/2008BloodBrothers Page 46 of 257Steadier, she swung back out on the road, and made the next turn.The road was narrow and twistywith trees looming on both sides.She imagined it would be lovely in the spring and summer, with thegreen dappling, or after a snowfall with all those trees ermine drenched.But under a dull gray sky thewoods seemed to crowd the road, bare branches just waiting to reach out and strike, as if they and onlythey were allowed to live there.As if to enforce the sensation, no other car passed, and when she turned off her radio as the musicseemed too loud, the only sound was the keening curse of the wind.Should ve called it Spooky Hollow, she decided, and nearly missed the turn into the gravel lane.Why, she wondered, would anyone choose to live here? Amid all those dense, thrusting trees wherebleak pools of snow huddled to hide from the sun? Where the only sound was the warning growl ofNature.Everything was brown and gray and moody.She bumped over a little bridge spanning a curve of a creek, followed the slight rise of the stingylane.There was the house, exactly as advertised.It sat on what she would have termed a knoll rather than a hill, with the front slope tamed into step-down terraces decked with shrubs she imagined put on a hell of a show in the spring and summer.There wasn t a lawn, so to speak, and she thought Hawkins had been smart to go with the thickmulch and shrubs and trees skirting the front instead of the traditional grass that would probably be apain in the ass to mow and keep clear of weeds.She approved of the deck that wrapped around the front and sides, and she d bet the rear as well.She liked the earthy tones of the stone and the generous windows.It sat like it belonged there, content and well-settled in the woods.She pulled up beside an aging Chevy pickup, got out of her car to stand and take a long view.And understood why someone would choose this spot.There was, unquestionably, an aura ofspookiness, especially for one who was inclined to see and feel such things.But there was considerablecharm as well, and a sense of solitude that was far from lonely [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]