Read Dire Threads for Free Online Page B

gate for him, I shivered, not only from the cold. The blank windows of Blueberry Cottage seemed to stare at my back.
    “Willow, Willow, where are you?” With wild yoohooing and shining of flashlights into bare, witchy treetops, Haylee and The Three Weird Mothers stormed down through my yard. Haylee wore a parka, snow pants, and boots, like she was dressed for skiing. Opal’s hand-knit hat was stretched over huge curlers. Naomi’s face was covered in green goo. Beribboned flounces of Edna’s flannel nightie stuck out below her coat over jeans tucked into boots.
    “What’s wrong?” Opal asked.
    Judging by their hastily thrown-together outfits, I could have asked the same thing. Instead, I explained as succinctly as I could.
    “Drunk.” Edna could be even more succinct.
    Dr. Wrinklesides bellowed at Uncle Allen, who was right beside him, “Head injuries. It looks like he was beaten by that canoe paddle. It’s one of those old wooden ones. Weighs a ton.”
    “That must be my paddle,” I said. “But it wasn’t anywhere near Mike when the dogs and I found him. Last I knew, it was in my lean-to.” I pointed. The door to the lean-to still gaped.
    “You must be mistaken,” Uncle Allen growled. “Or you and your dogs moved it.”
    “We didn’t do that,” I said hotly.
    “I feel queasy,” Naomi faltered.
    “You look it,” Edna agreed. “What’s that green stuff all over your face?”
    Naomi covered her cheeks with her hands. “Oh! I forgot! What must I look like?”
    Haylee covered her mouth, but her eyes gleamed with silent laughter.
    “Oh, no, you don’t,” Opal scolded, shaking a finger. “You girls aren’t going into one of your laugh-’til-you cry fits again. This is serious.” She pointed at Mike.
    As if on cue, he moaned again.
    Uncle Allen bent over him until his ear was nearly in Mike’s mouth.
    Opal put her finger to her lips to shush us, but we had all tensed as if the cold had solidified our muscles. The night became suddenly darker. Had one of Elderberry Bay’s streetlights blinked out?
    Mike mumbled.
    Slowly, Uncle Allen stood. He blinded me with his flashlight.
    I shielded my eyes. “Would you check Blueberry Cottage? Whoever did this might be in there.”
    Uncle Allen only glared.
    Flashlight in hand, Haylee started toward Blueberry Cottage.
    Opal called her back. “No one should go in there.”
    Edna nodded her scarf-swathed head toward Uncle Allen. “Except him .”
    Dr. Wrinklesides hollered, “C’mon, young fella, you can do it!”
    I expected to see him help Mike stand up. He pressed his stethoscope several places on Mike’s chest, listened for long minutes, then slowly got to his feet. “He’s gone,” he said, not shouting for once.
    Haylee turned away as if she didn’t want anyone to see her expression.
    Opal quietly repeated, “Gone?”
    “Dead?” Edna asked.
    “Deceased?” echoed Naomi, her eyes round in her ghoulish green mask.
    I felt frozen, inside and out, and unable to speak. Mike, who only this afternoon had swaggered around carrying the pages he’d ripped out of my guest book, who only moments ago had groaned and mumbled, was dead? As in permanently . . . gone?
    Uncle Allen stalked with exaggerated menace toward me and the other four women. He rested his fists on his hips, which placed his hands dangerously close to his guns. “Mike Krawbach is dead. Dead .” He let that sink in for one brittle moment, then added, “And his last words were, ‘That woman did it. Get her.’ ”

5
    O PAL PUT HER ARM AROUND HAYLEE. Haylee buried her face in her mother’s shoulder but lifted her head almost immediately. By the glow of our flashlights, her eyes appeared fearful. Edna and Naomi closed around the other two, leaving me to face Uncle Allen by myself until Opal reached out and pulled me to her. We shrank toward each other and away from the policeman.
    In the darkness beside Mike’s prone body, Dr. Wrinklesides shouted, “Uncle Allen!”
    Uncle Allen’s