their lives, he deserved her respect and discretion. She read the
first few words on the top page--My name is Eduardo Fernandez-- and
thumbed through the tablet, confirming it had been written by Fernandez
and was a lengthy document. More than two thirds of the long yellow
pages were filled with neat handwriting. Stifling her curiosity,
Heather put the tablet on top of the refrigerator, intending to give it
to Paul Youngblood the next time she saw him. The attorney was the
closest thing to a friend that Fernandez had known and, in his
professional capacity, was privy to all the old man's affairs. If the
contents of the tablet were important and private, only Paul had any
right to read them.
Finished with the inventory of frozen foods, she poured a cup of fresh
coffee, sat at the kitchen table, and began to make a list of needed
groceries and household supplies. Come morning, they would drive to
the supermarket in Eagle's Roost and stock not only the refrigerator
but the half-empty shelves of the pantry. She wanted to be well
prepared if they were cut off by deep snow for any length of time
during the winter.
She paused in her listmaking to scribble a note, reminding Jack to
schedule an appointment next week with Parker's Garage for the
installation of a plow on the front of the Explorer. Initially, as she
sipped her coffee and composed her list, she was alert for any peculiar
sound. However, the task before her was so mundane that it was
calming, after a while, she could not sustain a sense of the uncanny.
In his sleep, Toby moaned softly. He said, 'Go away ... go ... go away
...'
After falling silent for a while, he pushed back the covers and got out
of bed.
In the ruddy glow of the night-light, his pale-yellow pajamas appeared
to be streaked with blood. He stood beside the bed, swaying as if
keeping time to music that only he could hear. 'No,' he whispered, not
with alarm but in a flat voice devoid of emotion. 'No . .. no .. . no
. . .' Lapsing into silence again, he walked to the window and gazed
into the night.
At the top of the yard, nestled among the pines at the edge of the
forest, the caretaker's house was no longer dark and deserted. Strange
light, as purely blue as a gas flame, shot into the night from cracks
around the edges of the plywood rectangles that covered the windows,
from under the front door, and even from the top of the replace
chimney. 'Ah,' Toby said. The light was not of constant intensity but
sometimes flickered, sometimes throbbed. Periodically, even the
narrowest of the escaping beams were so bright that staring at them was
painful, although occasionally they grew so dim they seemed about to be
extinguished.
Even at its brightest, it was a cold light, giving no impression
whatsoever of heat. Toby watched for a long time. Eventually the
light faded. The caretaker's house became dark once more.
The boy returned to the bed. The night passed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
