Buku The Lair by Louis Charbonneau

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The Lair by Louis Charbonneau

Author:Louis Charbonneau [Charbonneau, Louis]

Language: eng

Format: epub

ISBN: 978-1-936535-84-2

Publisher: Jabberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.

Published: 2014-06-11T16:00:00+00:00

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The Lair by Louis Charbonneau

5

From the informal family room a half-level below the kitchen, Jeff Blanchard looked thoughtfully out at the terraced gardens. They descended in graceful steps all the way to the next street, the last step a sharp drop that placed the street at a considerably lower level on the hillside. Puzzled, Blanchard heard Angie moving around in the far bedroom wing.

“Hey, where is everybody?” he called out.

 

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Mystery, Thriller & Suspense

The Lair by Louis Charbonneau

Author:Louis Charbonneau [Charbonneau, Louis] , Date: June 12, 2019

,Views: 31

Author:Louis Charbonneau [Charbonneau, Louis]

Language: eng

Format: epub

ISBN: 978-1-936535-84-2

Publisher: Jabberwocky Literary Agency, Inc.

Published: 2014-06-11T16:00:00+00:00
5

From the informal family room a half-level below the kitchen, Jeff Blanchard looked thoughtfully out at the terraced gardens. They descended in graceful steps all the way to the next street, the last step a sharp drop that placed the street at a considerably lower level on the hillside. Puzzled, Blanchard heard Angie moving around in the far bedroom wing.

“Hey, where is everybody?” he called out.

There was no answer. Something was wrong, he thought. An empty house. Their chauffeur, Wilson, must have got the address wrong. Blanchard didn’t have the mimeographed sheet. Angie had absently stuck it into her purse, not even bothering to look at it. But surely the others on the tour should have caught up by now. They hadn’t come up the hill that fast.

He started up the half-flight of steps to the very modern kitchen, turned right and reached the entry. Here he was able to look across the sunken living area and the gardens to the street below. “Angie?” he said.

Then he saw Darrell Kinney.

He was standing motionless in the middle of the street, staring upward at the house. It seemed to Blanchard that Kinney was staring directly at him.

Blanchard ran across the living room and slammed through the door to the patio. He moved forward quickly to a low stone wall. He could feel his heart pumping strongly, the blood thick in his temples.

There was no mistake. Darrell Kinney, or a man who could have been his father, black hair silvered at the temples, was waiting below. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, but Blanchard saw him smile. The smile seemed to mock him.

“Kinney!” he shouted in sudden rage. “Damn you, where’s my son?”

Kinney turned and began to trot easily along the street. Blanchard charged down the nearest flight of garden steps, found his way blocked, vaulted a wall, and landed on more steps. He stumbled, twisting an ankle. Limping, he plunged downward recklessly to the next level. He had lost sight of Kinney now. At the lower garden levels he could no longer see the street.

The last steps brought him close to the wall at the bottom of the garden. It was eight feet high. And the street beyond was still lower, Blanchard judged. A twelve-foot drop at least.

He had to try it. Looking around, baffled, he found no ladder, no bench, nothing movable that he could bring close to the high wall.

He jumped for it. He got one hand over the top of the wall. Sharp pain stabbed his fingers. He lost his hold, dropped back. The glass on top of the wall had opened a deep cut in the crease of his palm and across the bottom pads of two fingers.

Angry and frustrated, Blanchard pounded back up the staggered series of steps through the gardens to the upper patio. He ran toward the nearest door, the one he had used from the living room.

It would not open.

“Angie!” he yelled. “Hurry up—open this door!”

The room beyond the glass wall was empty of anything but the elegant furnishings.

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