While Others Sleep. Helen R. MyersЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Driven by concern, Campbell stepped outside to a sky opening to a torrential rain. A barrage of icy droplets pricked her face and clear vision was impossible, but she knew the approaching car was a compact, and that it was traveling fast. And it was almost upon her.
Her memory was working better than her vision, and she reached a hand out into the driveway. Yet no sooner did she step out onto the walkway than she realized the driver didn’t intend to slow down. Worse yet, she heard the car accelerate.
It was going too fast to miss her and far too fast to make the necessary ninety-degree left turn out onto the drive.
Campbell flung herself backward. Although she struck hard against the booth’s rough stone exterior, she kept her eyes open and focused her attention to try to catch a closer look at the maniac speeding by.
The car was a Grand Am. The driver was—
“Maida?” Campbell gasped. “Maida, stop!”
Ignoring the pain in her back, Campbell launched herself after the car. Brakes squealed and the rear end swung wildly through that first impossible turn. She got close enough to slam her hand on the trunk, but either Maida Livingstone didn’t hear her, or the sound had the opposite effect and frightened her.
After several stumbling strides, Campbell gave up and stared in horror as the car accelerated again. The elderly widow was racing toward the next hairpin turn.
Also by HELEN R. MYERS
NO SANCTUARY
FINAL STAND
DEAD END
LOST
MORE THAN YOU KNOW
COME SUNDOWN
While Others Sleep
Helen R. Myers
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A special salute to Texas Bluegrass singer Terri Hendrix, who inspired many of the characters in this book with her song about night wolves, those individuals who either suffer from insomnia, work, or otherwise maneuver through life while others sleep. Also thanks to the Longview Police Department and Longview Board of Education for their strong public access commitment.
To the Hide-Away-Lake Book Club and residents who asked that I feature a character who has experienced my own too-close encounters with lightning—I hope this adds insight. Your lovely development was, indeed, the inspiration for Maple Trails, even though I had to relocate it. But I will always cherish your graciousness and hospitality.
Finally, ongoing appreciation to my editor Valerie Gray and always to my agent Ethan Ellenberg. Couldn’t have done this without your wisdom, support and humor.
Violence can only be concealed by a lie, and the lie can only be maintained by violence.
—Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Nobel Prize lecture, 1973
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