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out of the car and steadied himself in the snow. He had again turned to Frazier, giving the officer a chance to study his gaunt, melancholy face. It was obvious there was more the man wanted to say, but all he managed was a raspy, "You'll find her place at the end of the street." |
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Frazier watched the heavy car door slam shut, at which point he realized just how alone he was. |
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Charles Everett Frazier had always considered himself to be a reasonably articulate man, but the village of Sixkill betrayed his inadequacy. It was old, decrepit, weather-beaten, forlorn, isolated and even the word "scary" came to mind. He inched the Buick down the street until he found the last house. In this most isolated of places, the house somehow managed to be even more isolated than the rest. |
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A weathered, whitewashed and battened affair with a widow's watch, it was a full three stories. It was perched high on an incline so that it held domain over a vast and brooding expanse of the turbulent Atlantic. |
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Still, there was something else about it. Despite its solitary and ominous location, bereft of trees and surrounded by snow and ice-covered boulders, it managed somehow to appear more inviting than the sorry assort- |
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