Runaway Read Online Free

her. “Maybe you should bring that fiancé of yours with you next time,” he suggests. “I’d like to have a little talk with that fellow.”
    “I . . . I’ll have to think about that,” she replies.
    “Say!” Mr. Coolidge exclaims. “You should bring him out for the Fourth of July! We’re going to the Made-Rite. It’s Hank’s birthday.”
    She laughs. “It’s Dakota’s birthday too. What a coincidence!”
    “No coincidences,” Mr. Coolidge says. “Only God appointments.”
    It’s not the first time I’ve heard him mention God. I get the feeling God’s a big deal with the Coolidges.
    “Two birthdays, plus the birth of our nation?” Ms. Bean seems to be mulling this over. “Plus the Made-Rite? I’ll talk to Frank.”
    “Tell him he’s more than welcome to celebrate with our birthday boy and girl,” Mr. Coolidge assures her.
    I could tell them that this birthday girl won’t still be around on July 4. But I wouldn’t want to spoil their plans.
    Or mine.
    Ms. Bean starts the car, then sticks her head out the window and fixes me with a look so intense that I have to bite my lip. “Dakota, if you need anything, call me.” She rummages through her purse and hands me her business card. “Now, call anytime you feel like it. Okay?”
    I take the card and notice her e-mail address. It’s the perfect opportunity to ask what I’ve wanted to ask since I got here. I turn to Mr. Coolidge. “Could I use your computer? No long-distance charge for e-mail.” I have to be able to e-mail Neil. And the sooner, the better, as far I’m concerned. I need a plan. I need a list.
    “You can use the phone to call Ms. Bean whenever you like,” Mr. Coolidge offers.
    I fight down panic. “You don’t have the Internet out here?”
    He chuckles, but not the limb-cracking laugh. “We do. Computer’s in the kitchen.”
    It’s a weird place for a computer, but at least they have one. “Great. Thanks.”
    Mr. Coolidge and I watch Ms. Bean’s car drive away in a puff of dust, as if it’s vanished. When she’s totally out of sight, I realize that something’s humming. A low buzz comes and goes, like somebody messing with the volume on a station that won’t come in.
    “Crickets,” Mr. Coolidge says, although I haven’t asked. “And . . . hear that?”
    Above the cricket buzz is a tapping.
    “Woodpecker,” he says.
    “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a woodpecker before,” I admit.
    “One of the good Lord’s best gifts,” he says. “I can feel that tapping in my soul. Can’t you? God’s knocking at the soul.”
    I have no idea how to answer that one.
    “Cat!” Mr. Coolidge shouts.
    I glance around for one but don’t see any. A few yards from the house is a barn that looks like it was made out of the same wood as the house. A hand-painted sign above the door reads Starlight Animal Rescue . But I don’t see a cat.
    “Come down and meet Dakota,” Mr. Coolidge commands.
    I should be surprised that he talks to invisible cats. Somehow I’m not.
    “Don’t just sit up in that tree and watch,” Mr. Coolidge shouts in the general direction of the treetop behind me. “Come down and introduce yourself to our new arrival. You can show her around.”
    “Seriously,” I say, sidestepping toward the house, more determined than ever to find that computer, “not such a huge fan of cats. I can show myself around.”
    He laughs. “K-a-t, not c-a-t.”
    “Right,” I say, knowing it’s healthiest to agree with crazy people. I read this somewhere once.
    He waves over my head again.
    I spin around in time to see a little girl drop down from the tree. That explains the invisible-girl shriek I heard when we first drove into this place. I’d forgotten about that one. The girl is thin and so white it’s like I can see through her. Everything about her looks fragile. She reminds me of an angel tree-topper, except for one striking difference: her hair. It’s the brightest orange red I’ve seen since that Orphan