Jacob's Ladder Read Online Free
it now rested.
As she stood waiting at the steps, Rose did notice, however, another set of tracks following up the drive.
At first, she thought that maybe the driver had pulled up and backed in a couple of times before getting his rig like he wanted it; that perhaps he or she had even realized that this was not part of the working campground and was going to exit. When she looked more closely, however, she realized that the other tracks were different. The tires were wider, a tighter tread. There were two vehicles that had driven into this area the previous night.
Rose turned to examine the area behind her and could make out the departing tracks that returned to the drive and led out the main entry. She faced the door, puzzled at where the other vehicle was and how it had also entered and departed without anyone hearing it. She checked her watch, wondering if she was waking the traveler, shrugged her shoulders, and knocked again.
âHello, is anybody home?â she called out as politely as she could.
She tried to peek through the window on the door, but she couldnât see anything but a pale blue curtain that covered the glass completely. She waited and then knocked again. There was not a single noise coming from inside.
She moved down the steps and walked around the rig. She could see that there had been no attempt to unhook the truck from the rig, that the driver had only backed in and then placed two large stones behind the rear tires, a temporary means to secure the camper.
Even though the trailer and the truck appeared to be old, there was a good strong ball and hinge attachment on both vehicles that appeared relatively new. The silver finish was not rusted like the axle on the trailer and there were no chips or scratches to show age or wear. There was also an additional pin and fastener, found only on the newer models, so that Rose could see that the owner had updated the hauling features, apparently planning for a long trip.
The safety chain was thick, at least four-inch links, and it wrapped around the hitch on the truck and under the extension that was bolted to the camper. It, too, looked new. It seemed that the latest Shady Grove tenant had taken extra care to travel safely from New Mexico all the way to West Memphis, Arkansas.
Rose read the license plate on the truck. There was nothing significant about it. The bright yellow plate with the parallel red lines pointing in all four directions was dusty and bent. She saw that the sticker had expired at least four months earlier, but it was hard to read, since the paper had been torn and replaced.
She knelt down and noticed a leak under the engine block, a small puddle near the front of the vehicle. The liquid was dark, black like oil, she thought. She wondered if it was the engine trouble that had led the campground guest to park where he did, thinking that he was making the attempt to be courteous and not stain the large concrete pads on the other sites. She certainly did not know any other reason for the camper to be in that location.
As she stood up, she peered again around the empty lot. She considered that maybe the trailer owner had taken a walk or was down at the riverbank fishing, that maybe he had gone searching for the dog. She saw no one moving about on this side of the campground.
She turned again to the trailer, and that was when she saw a small opening in the curtain in the rear window of the camper. She was hesitant at first, but then she moved over to it and gently knocked on it. She guessed that this would have been the window right above the bed, and again she hoped she was not waking anyone up.
She pressed her face against the glass, cupping her hand around her eyes as she peeked in.
It was dark inside and it took a minute before her eyes adjusted. When they did, what she saw immediately concerned her. Either the visitor at Shady Grove was the most cluttered person she had ever encountered or the trailer had been ransacked.
As she stood waiting at the steps, Rose did notice, however, another set of tracks following up the drive.
At first, she thought that maybe the driver had pulled up and backed in a couple of times before getting his rig like he wanted it; that perhaps he or she had even realized that this was not part of the working campground and was going to exit. When she looked more closely, however, she realized that the other tracks were different. The tires were wider, a tighter tread. There were two vehicles that had driven into this area the previous night.
Rose turned to examine the area behind her and could make out the departing tracks that returned to the drive and led out the main entry. She faced the door, puzzled at where the other vehicle was and how it had also entered and departed without anyone hearing it. She checked her watch, wondering if she was waking the traveler, shrugged her shoulders, and knocked again.
âHello, is anybody home?â she called out as politely as she could.
She tried to peek through the window on the door, but she couldnât see anything but a pale blue curtain that covered the glass completely. She waited and then knocked again. There was not a single noise coming from inside.
She moved down the steps and walked around the rig. She could see that there had been no attempt to unhook the truck from the rig, that the driver had only backed in and then placed two large stones behind the rear tires, a temporary means to secure the camper.
Even though the trailer and the truck appeared to be old, there was a good strong ball and hinge attachment on both vehicles that appeared relatively new. The silver finish was not rusted like the axle on the trailer and there were no chips or scratches to show age or wear. There was also an additional pin and fastener, found only on the newer models, so that Rose could see that the owner had updated the hauling features, apparently planning for a long trip.
The safety chain was thick, at least four-inch links, and it wrapped around the hitch on the truck and under the extension that was bolted to the camper. It, too, looked new. It seemed that the latest Shady Grove tenant had taken extra care to travel safely from New Mexico all the way to West Memphis, Arkansas.
Rose read the license plate on the truck. There was nothing significant about it. The bright yellow plate with the parallel red lines pointing in all four directions was dusty and bent. She saw that the sticker had expired at least four months earlier, but it was hard to read, since the paper had been torn and replaced.
She knelt down and noticed a leak under the engine block, a small puddle near the front of the vehicle. The liquid was dark, black like oil, she thought. She wondered if it was the engine trouble that had led the campground guest to park where he did, thinking that he was making the attempt to be courteous and not stain the large concrete pads on the other sites. She certainly did not know any other reason for the camper to be in that location.
As she stood up, she peered again around the empty lot. She considered that maybe the trailer owner had taken a walk or was down at the riverbank fishing, that maybe he had gone searching for the dog. She saw no one moving about on this side of the campground.
She turned again to the trailer, and that was when she saw a small opening in the curtain in the rear window of the camper. She was hesitant at first, but then she moved over to it and gently knocked on it. She guessed that this would have been the window right above the bed, and again she hoped she was not waking anyone up.
She pressed her face against the glass, cupping her hand around her eyes as she peeked in.
It was dark inside and it took a minute before her eyes adjusted. When they did, what she saw immediately concerned her. Either the visitor at Shady Grove was the most cluttered person she had ever encountered or the trailer had been ransacked.
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