Читать книгу Blue Sunday - Irma Venter - Страница 10

Thursday, 8 February, 15:05

When Alex Derksen opens the front door, a curtain is drawn to one side in the living-room window. Farr is standing with her hands on her hips. Shakes her head, gestures: what now?

She doesn’t want to talk to him.

Wait. She can’t talk to him. She might say something she shouldn’t.

I hate lightning.

I take a deep breath. Hold it. Wait for the next thunderclap. Wait … wait … count. One …

Dammit. This storm is just above my head.

Don’t think …

I push open the Merc’s door, slam it behind me, run past the fountain, over the paving stones, up the steps and in the front door.

The next lightning flash tears through the sky, barely missing the house.

I breathe a sigh of relief, water dripping from my jacket. Farr stares at me with a dissatisfied frown. She and Alex are both wearing shoe covers and gloves. I look out the window to the stoep. The box with the protective gear is lying on the twelve-seater table.

Outside.

Crap.