Dark Horse Read Online Free Page B

Kinney and Mrs. Shaney join two other women on the front porch. They’ve all got foil-covered dishes, like it’s a funeral gathering. Kat opens the door to let them in. Light spills outside with voices and laughter from inside.
    I wait for Deputy Hendren to let me out of his car. When he does, we shake hands and don’t speak. I want to thank him, but I don’t trust my voice.
    Like a rubberneck who can’t keep from gawking at a traffic accident, I turn and stare at the barn. Only there’s no barn. There are no stars, as if the fire’s burned them away too. Yet even in the shadows, I can see the pile of burned boards, a glimmer of the crime scene tape, and the heavy black smoke that still hovers over the remains of what used to be Starlight Animal Rescue.

Seven
    Winnie Willis
    Ashland, Ohio
    “Calm down, Mrs. Coolidge. There, there.” Mr. Coolidge must have said this a hundred times already, but it hasn’t done much good. His wife looks even more upset now that her husband’s home.
    Catman and I look on, helpless, as his mom and dad cry in each other’s arms. Mr. Coolidge probably drove a hundred miles an hour to get home so fast from Smart Bart’s Used Cars all the way across town.
    “Maybe we could try to call them again?” I suggest. So far the line’s been busy.
    Mrs. Coolidge grabs her husband’s cell phone. She punches in numbers. From where I’m standing, I can hear the robotic voice telling her this call cannot be completed as dialed. “It’s broken!” she exclaims. “Maybe the fire burned the phone lines.”
    “Let me, my dear.” Mr. Coolidge loosens his tie, a Bugs Bunny tie, and takes the phone. He punches a number and listens. “Busy,” he says. He turns to Catman. “What else did they say on the news about Starlight Animal Rescue, Calvin?” I don’t think anybody calls him Calvin Coolidge except his family.
    Catman squints at the TV. It’s still on, but he’s got it on mute. The newscasters have moved on to some movie star award event. Half a minute was all the news an Illinois barn fire was worth, I guess.
    “They said nobody was hurt in the fire,” I offer. “Dakota wasn’t sure about one of the horses, though.” Just saying it makes me have to fight off tears. I send up a prayer for that horse and for everybody at Starlight.
    Catman uses the kitchen phone to try Hank’s cell phone. He listens, then leaves a message. “Dude, call us when you get this, man. We’re way bummed.” He hangs up. “Hank’s still not answering.”
    Mr. Coolidge slams his phone shut. “The line’s still busy!” he cries. He leads his wife to the couch. Then he stands in front of the television and changes channels, flipping through the few stations they get.
    I want to help. I want to do something. But I don’t even have a cell to try calling the house myself. Then I get an idea. “Catman,” I whisper, not wanting to rouse Mrs. Coolidge since she’s quit sobbing. “Let’s see if their computer’s on. Maybe we could get through to somebody with an e-mail.”
    “Solid.” He races up the stairs to the den, and I follow right behind him.
    I used to hate coming into this room. I still don’t like it. The walls are decorated with antlers and animal heads—bears, deer, elks, moose. What’s even weirder is that nobody in the Coolidge house hunts. They hate hunting and all forms of violence. Once I tried to ask them why they have stuffed dead animals in the den. Mrs. Coolidge acted puzzled and asked if I meant the leather couch or the leather chair.
    We wait for the computer to warm up. Catman logs on.
    “There’s something from Kat,” he says.
    I pull over a stuffed leather footstool. “When? When did she write it?”
    But he’s too focused on the e-mail to answer me.
    I scoot closer and read for myself.
    Catman, I don’t know what to do. So here I am. I would have called you, but Mom needs the phone. She tried to call you, but your line was busy. Hank’s got his cell, but we