Читать онлайн «Fear the Dark»
Автор Крис Муни
Chris Mooney
FEAR THE DARK
Contents
Day One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Day Two
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Day Three
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Day Ten
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Day Eleven
Chapter 83
Epilogue
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FEAR THE DARK
Chris Mooney is the internationally bestselling author of the Darby McCormick thrillers and
‘I didn’t mean to kill her, Sarah. It just –’
‘Happened. I know,’ she says in that quiet, soothing voice that made me fall in love with her all those years ago. She swallows and forces a smile. ‘I understand. You don’t have to explain yourself. ’
We’ve done this dance before – too many times, I’m ashamed to admit. And, while I’m genuinely sorry each and every time, I also genuinely believe Sarah does, in fact, understand. This isn’t wishful thinking on my part. We’ve been together a long time, Sarah and I; there are no secrets between us. Besides, Sarah couldn’t keep something from me even if she wanted to. She’s not a good actor, for one, but the reality is that she’s not capable of deceit. Doesn’t have it in her. She’s too meek, still wears her heart on her sleeve. One look at her face and I know what she’s feeling. Thinking.
We’re sitting together on the living-room couch, the place, it seems, where we always end up having this conversation. I knock back the rest of my bourbon – my third – and stare into the fire, wondering, again, if there is such a place as hell.
‘It just got away from me. Again. ’
‘I know,’ she says quietly. ‘Still, maybe you should have –’
My glare stops her cold. The firewood snaps and hisses.
‘Should’ve what?’ I prompt, aware of the heat climbing into my voice. Sarah knows better than to beat a dead horse. I’ve already apologized. The subject is closed. Done.
She takes another delicate sip of her white wine and stares down into her glass, like there’s an escape hatch hiding somewhere at the bottom. I see how I’ve hurt her, and I take our glasses and place them on the coffee-table. Then I snuggle up next to her and take her hands in mine. Her smile is tight – not out of fear but because even now, after all this time together, she’s still embarrassed about her crooked teeth.
