Veil of Deception
- Excerpt 2
Kurt combed his fingers through his thick black hair, then stopped and studied the hands on the dial of his gold-toned watch again. “Shit.” The rhythm of his thumb and forefinger increased, the pressure of skin-on-skin contact made a shallow popping noise. “Damn it, Crystal. Where the hell are you?”
He reached for his cell phone on the narrow plastic table at his side and pressed a speed dial button. After the sixth ring, a canned message began. In an aggravated tone, Kurt demanded into the mouthpiece, “Answer your phone, Crystal! Stop playing around.”
When the call back recording came on, he slammed the phone shut and smashed the mayfly resting on the small drink tray with his fist. The impact sent his half-full beer bottle into the air. The amber container made a somersault before bouncing on the wooden floor. The contents sprayed across the freshly stained deck, forming a trail of cream-colored foamy liquid oozing from the mouth. Kurt sat transfixed, like a statue, ignoring his surroundings. The bottle rolled over the edge of the porch, gyrated down the steep hill and plopped into the lake. It bobbed up and down, resisting the inevitable, until it released a gurgling sound as it disappeared beneath the dark waters of Gills Creek.
Kurt picked up his phone for a second time and dialed Crystal’s friend. “Jenny, it’s Hawk. When did you get back from your run this morning? By herself? You let her go by her – No, she’s not back. I don’t know, damn it. That’s why I called you. No, I’m leaving right now.”
Kurt stuffed the phone in his pocket, leaped up, and raced for his truck. He was angry that she had ignored him and gone ahead by herself after she’d promised never to do so again. But worse, he was frightened – afraid of the possibilities, what might have happened to the only woman he loved, and had loved, for the past seventeen years. While he searched along Shady Hollow Road, images flashed in his mind of someone, something, harming his wife.
His search became more frantic as he neared the end of her jogging route. She wouldn’t have gone off the road. Not even Crystal would be that crazy after the neighbor’s dog was found mauled just days earlier, possibly by a cougar that had strayed down from Alders Mountain. She must have turned right on Ridge Lane. She would be there, she had to be, and when he found her he would read her the riot act.
“Crystal, I’m going to literally kick your pretty little ass this time.”
But the words were a gruff façade hiding his real emotions; the apprehension that his worst fears were about to come true.