Fade to Black Read Online Free Page B
Author: Wendy Corsi Staub
backyard.
Elizabeth had nodded mutely as the Realtor rattled on. She had been remembering the skylit vaulted ceiling and three full walls of glass in that other, long-ago master bedroom that overlooked a lush, landscaped terrace and kidney-shaped swimming pool, and, off in the distance, the blue Pacific Ocean.
How she had loved that expansive view. She distinctly remembered instructing the interior decorator not to cover those windows. When the woman—one of those ubiquitous designer-clad, Mercedes-driving Beverly Hills blondes—had pointed out that the room might feel too stark without some kind of draperies to soften the boxy lines, Elizabeth had insisted on simple white sheers so that she would never feel closed in.
In the beginning she had rarely bothered to draw the drapes at night, wanting to feel as though she were sleeping outdoors, just as she had so long ago as a midwestern Girl Scout. It was comforting to open her eyes and see the moonlight filtering through the lush, blooming shrubs, reflected in the crystalline aqua waters of the pool.
How could it have never occurred to her that the windows worked both ways?
That someone was looking in on her as she lay alone in the wee hours of the morning?
How vulnerable she had been....
How utterly reckless.
Now she glances at the heavy, lined curtains and sturdy Venetian blinds she has installed at every window in this small bedroom, where only flimsy vinyl shades existed before. She had forced herself to open the blinds and curtains this morning, refusing to allow herself to give in to the terror that has threatened to send her over the edge ever since she opened that card yesterday afternoon....
I know who you are .
The scrawled message has been continuously running through her mind.
Even the teddy bear illustration haunts her, the creature’s black button eyes seeming to follow her with menacing intent.
It has to be a mistake. Somebody meant to send the card to someone else....
But it was addressed to her....
To Elizabeth Baxter.
Well, maybe it hadn’t been meant in a threatening way. Maybe someone sent it as a joke.
There’s only one problem with that scenario.
There is no one in Elizabeth Baxter’s past who would play a joke on her, because she has no past.
This is it, this solitary life in this quiet New England town. There are no old boyfriends, no long-lost friends, no far-flung family members.
Whoever sent the card has figured out who she really is.
And they meant to scare the hell out of her.
They have succeeded.
Whoever sent it is right here in town, or they were as recently as a few days ago.
Do they know where she lives? Or did they trace her to Wind-mere Cove through the post office box address she uses for everything, another attempt at keeping her exact location a secret, should anyone figure out the alias she’s been using.
And apparently, someone has.
Oh, God.
All at once her body gives in to the panic, involuntarily releasing it to surge from her gut and course through her veins. Urgent warnings screech in her brain, and her heart launches into a violent pounding.
Trembling, she strides to the nearest window and jerks her jittery hand toward the white plastic rod that controls the blinds.
Only when all three windows are darkened and the curtains drawn again does she shakily release the breath she has been holding.
She has succeeded in shutting out the bright morning sunlight.
She is once again alone and safe in the shadows....
Alone.
Safe.
For now.
B y early afternoon the frantic feeling has subsided enough so that Elizabeth is able to leave the easy chair in the living room, where she has been warily huddled for hours, her arms wrapped so tightly around her bent knees that her whole body now aches with tension.
She fixes herself a tuna sandwich, which she barely touches, and then decides to throw in a load of laundry. Anything to keep busy.
In the cellar she quells the thought that someone might be hiding in the
Elizabeth had nodded mutely as the Realtor rattled on. She had been remembering the skylit vaulted ceiling and three full walls of glass in that other, long-ago master bedroom that overlooked a lush, landscaped terrace and kidney-shaped swimming pool, and, off in the distance, the blue Pacific Ocean.
How she had loved that expansive view. She distinctly remembered instructing the interior decorator not to cover those windows. When the woman—one of those ubiquitous designer-clad, Mercedes-driving Beverly Hills blondes—had pointed out that the room might feel too stark without some kind of draperies to soften the boxy lines, Elizabeth had insisted on simple white sheers so that she would never feel closed in.
In the beginning she had rarely bothered to draw the drapes at night, wanting to feel as though she were sleeping outdoors, just as she had so long ago as a midwestern Girl Scout. It was comforting to open her eyes and see the moonlight filtering through the lush, blooming shrubs, reflected in the crystalline aqua waters of the pool.
How could it have never occurred to her that the windows worked both ways?
That someone was looking in on her as she lay alone in the wee hours of the morning?
How vulnerable she had been....
How utterly reckless.
Now she glances at the heavy, lined curtains and sturdy Venetian blinds she has installed at every window in this small bedroom, where only flimsy vinyl shades existed before. She had forced herself to open the blinds and curtains this morning, refusing to allow herself to give in to the terror that has threatened to send her over the edge ever since she opened that card yesterday afternoon....
I know who you are .
The scrawled message has been continuously running through her mind.
Even the teddy bear illustration haunts her, the creature’s black button eyes seeming to follow her with menacing intent.
It has to be a mistake. Somebody meant to send the card to someone else....
But it was addressed to her....
To Elizabeth Baxter.
Well, maybe it hadn’t been meant in a threatening way. Maybe someone sent it as a joke.
There’s only one problem with that scenario.
There is no one in Elizabeth Baxter’s past who would play a joke on her, because she has no past.
This is it, this solitary life in this quiet New England town. There are no old boyfriends, no long-lost friends, no far-flung family members.
Whoever sent the card has figured out who she really is.
And they meant to scare the hell out of her.
They have succeeded.
Whoever sent it is right here in town, or they were as recently as a few days ago.
Do they know where she lives? Or did they trace her to Wind-mere Cove through the post office box address she uses for everything, another attempt at keeping her exact location a secret, should anyone figure out the alias she’s been using.
And apparently, someone has.
Oh, God.
All at once her body gives in to the panic, involuntarily releasing it to surge from her gut and course through her veins. Urgent warnings screech in her brain, and her heart launches into a violent pounding.
Trembling, she strides to the nearest window and jerks her jittery hand toward the white plastic rod that controls the blinds.
Only when all three windows are darkened and the curtains drawn again does she shakily release the breath she has been holding.
She has succeeded in shutting out the bright morning sunlight.
She is once again alone and safe in the shadows....
Alone.
Safe.
For now.
B y early afternoon the frantic feeling has subsided enough so that Elizabeth is able to leave the easy chair in the living room, where she has been warily huddled for hours, her arms wrapped so tightly around her bent knees that her whole body now aches with tension.
She fixes herself a tuna sandwich, which she barely touches, and then decides to throw in a load of laundry. Anything to keep busy.
In the cellar she quells the thought that someone might be hiding in the
Readers choose
Mark Alders
Iain Pears
Jeff Corwin
Chris Lynch
Vanessa Cardui
Scarlet Hyacinth
Susan Juby
Una LaMarche
Lili Valente