"Christine W. Murphy - Through Iowa Glass" - читать интересную книгу автора (Murphy Christine W)

The front end had sunk to the axle in mud. While he contemplated the
three-mile walk to town, the rain stopped and dusk passed into evening. The
Mustang's headlights glowed brighter in the darkness. He got back in the car
and turned them off.
Walking didn't appeal to him and he didn't want to leave the car. If
he'd been willing to do that, he would have left it in the garage and flown
out. Besides, to pretend he was in a hurry now was ludicrous. He'd spent three
weeks driving from San Francisco to Iowa.
When he draped himself over the steering wheel, sleep threatened to
drag him under again, but the hard surface dug into his chest and woke him. He
fumbled through Hershey wrappers and Coke cans on the passenger seat for his
leather flight jacket. After transforming the steering wheel into a
serviceable pillow with the jacket, he forced himself to relax. The stale
smell of cigarettes enveloped him when he hugged the worn leather.
"God, what am I going to do?" Returning to Iowa couldn't possibly be
the answer.
A telegram informing him of his stepfather's death had summoned him to
Iowa, and his coworkers at the hospital encouraged him to leave. They all but
threatened to pull his credentials. "It's just what you need. Get away from
work. What's there to worry about in Iowa?"
His friends' innocent question brought home just how alone he was in
this world. Everyone who understood why he shouldn't go back was dead. How
could he pay his respects to the man who had murdered his mother?
He had missed his stepfather's funeral, but according to his
stepsister, Lorraine Bettencourt, everyone was waiting for him, waiting for
the reading of Miles Bettencourt's will.
Now, Alex admired the glow of distant street lights against the black
sky. The windshield broke the glow into a thousand points of light, each one
softened by the sheen of rain coating the glass. He brushed away the water
that came through the driver's side window and clung to his beard.
That settled it. It was raining and dark. Tomorrow he would face the
good people of Close. For now, he planned to shut the car window and get some
sleep, but after a few cranks, the window stuck. One of the crotchety
Mustang's favorite tricks. A car for a younger man. One looking for adventure,
not for transportation.
Cool rain continued to wet Alex's face. Then it stopped.
First, he looked to the front. The rain fell more rapidly now. Light
filtered through sheets of water and broken glass, filling the old car with
wavering patches of white. Something stood at his left blocking the rain.
Something in the dark he had failed to notice until now.
When he tried again to close the window, Alex saw a hand snake through
the opening. He had time only to pull the keys from the ignition before
fingers gripped his throat.
****
"A CAR! A CAR!" The little girl jumped up and down, and pointed through the
storefront window.
Skye left the sink of dirty dishes, and dried her hands on her jeans.
After fluffing her hair off her sweaty neck, she joined Christy, her charge
for the evening, at the front of the Senior Citizens' Center. Together, they
looked out the window.