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Back The Nest Save as PDF
Chapters (82)
  1. Cover
  2. Copyright page
  3. Introduction by Will Errickson
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. TREMORS
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. SUSPICIONS
  13. 1
  14. 2
  15. 3
  16. 4
  17. 5
  18. DREAD
  19. 1
  20. 2
  21. 3
  22. 4
  23. 5
  24. 6
  25. WITNESS
  26. 1
  27. 2
  28. 3
  29. ALERT
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. ENCOUNTER
  36. 1
  37. 2
  38. 3
  39. 4
  40. 5
  41. 6
  42. HAVOC
  43. 1
  44. 2
  45. 3
  46. 4
  47. 5
  48. 6
  49. SEARCH
  50. 1
  51. 2
  52. 3
  53. 4
  54. 5
  55. CLASH
  56. 1
  57. 2
  58. 3
  59. 4
  60. 5
  61. 6
  62. 7
  63. COUNTERATTACK
  64. 1
  65. 2
  66. 3
  67. 4
  68. 5
  69. 6
  70. 7
  71. VICTORY
  72. 1
  73. 2
  74. 3
  75. 4
  76. 5
  77. 6
  78. 7
  79. 8
  80. 9
  81. EPILOGUE
  82. About the Author

By then the car was too far away for his words to be heard. The bearded man staggered to his feet. His chin went down to his hairy chest in his desolation. He headed back into the woods. He had to get some sleep. What a day this had been. What a predicament he was in! He had lost Tony. He was lost himself. He was scratched, bitten, bleeding, and exhausted. He staggered to a bed of leaves and let himself down thankfully. The sharp, dry edges stuck his skin but he was too weary to care. Clumsily without the use of his hands, he rolled over on his stomach and let his eyes close. He thought, that fucking driver could have helped me—and then laughed despite himself. He must have been one mean apparition in the night, enough to scare the shit out of anyone, much less a drunk like that jerk.

As Bo Leslie burrowed into the leaves for warmth, the prickliness began to soften under the weight of his body. The man pressed deeper down. It began to feel good, he’d be damned if his cock hadn’t found itself a place like the old butter groove. Hey, this wasn’t bad! he smiled, licking his lips. Funny habit, to lick his lips as soon as he felt an erection coming on, like the way he always spit into the toilet to help himself pee . . .

Hey, this wasn’t pussy but not bad at all, man! He began to heave up and down. Pretty okay. Good. Okay. Okay, okay, okay good good good! Why not?

The moonshafts through the trees struck the man’s faster-­pumping buttocks.

2

TWO

Mrs. Hilda Cannon, driving High Ridge slowly because she was bone-­tired, was worried sick. The girls were not at her sister’s in Chatham. She couldn’t find the sheriff. He wasn’t in his office or at home, and by the time she finally learned he was at the old lighthouse—for some reason she couldn’t fathom—there was no way to phone him. Well, she couldn’t go chasing him all over Yarkie. He was prob­ably in the woods looking for the drifters. She had no choice but to wait until morning.

If her girls weren’t in Chatham, where, where, where in the name of Old Scratch could they be?