Rizzoli & Isles 8-Book Set

nothing she could say would change the balance. And perhaps they were right. There
was
something wrong about this place; she could feel it. Old echoes of evil that seemed to whisper in the wind.
    Maura lifted her shovel again.
    With all of them working together, it took only a few more minutesto clear enough space behind the Jeep. Doug dragged over the clanking tire chains and laid them out behind the rear wheels.
    “Those look pretty banged up,” said Arlo, frowning at the rusted metal.
    “This is all we’ve got,” said Doug.
    “Some of those cross links are broken. Those chains may not make it.”
    “They only have to hold out till we reach the gas station.” Doug climbed into the Jeep and turned the ignition. The engine started up at the first crank. “Okay, we’re good!” He grinned out the window. “Why don’t you ladies pack up some supplies? Whatever you think we might need on the road. Arlo and I will work on the chains.”
    By the time Maura came out of the house with an armful of blankets, the chains were on, and Doug had the Jeep turned around and facing the road. Already it was past noon, and they scrambled to load in food and candles, shovels and the bolt cutter. When they finally all piled into the Jeep, they paused a moment in silence, as though simultaneously offering up prayers for success.
    Doug took a breath and put the Jeep into gear. They began to roll, the chains clanking noisily against the chassis, and churned ahead through the snow.
    “I think this is going to work,” murmured Doug. Maura heard a note of wonder in his voice, as if even he had doubted their chances. “God, I think this is actually going to
work!
”
    They left behind the houses and began to climb out of the valley, retracing the route that they had scrambled down on foot a day earlier. Fresh snow had covered their footprints, and they could not be certain where the edges of the road might be, but the Jeep kept barreling ahead, steadily ascending. From the backseat came Arlo’s soft chant, one word repeated over and over.
    Go. Go. Go
.
    Now Elaine and Grace joined in, their voices synchronized in time with the rhythm of the tire chains slapping the truck.
    Go. Go. Go
.
    The chant was mixed with laughter now as they climbed ever higher, almost to the halfway point out of the valley. The road grew steeper, curving in hairpin turns, and they heard snow scraping the undercarriage.
    Go. Go. Go
.
    Even Maura found herself murmuring the words now, not quite saying them aloud but thinking them. Daring to hope that yes, this was going to turn out fine. Yes, they would get out of this valley and roll down the main road, chains banging all the way, to Jackson. What a story they’d have to tell, just as Doug had promised them, a story that they could dine out on for years to come, about their adventure in a strange village called Kingdom Come.
    Go. Go. Go …
    Suddenly the Jeep lurched to a halt, snapping Maura forward against her seat belt. She glanced at Doug.
    “Take it easy,” he said, and shifted into reverse. “We’ll just back up. Get a little running start.” He pressed the accelerator. The engine whined, but the Jeep didn’t budge.
    “Is anyone getting a bad case of déjà vu?” said Arlo.
    “Ah, but this time we have shovels!” Doug climbed out and looked at the front bumper. “We just hit a little deeper snow here. I think we can dig our way out of this drift. Come on, let’s do it.”
    “I’m definitely feeling that déjà vu,” muttered Arlo as he climbed out and grabbed a shovel.
    As they began to dig, Maura realized that their problem was worse than Doug had advertised. They had veered off the road, and neither of the rear tires was in contact with solid ground. They cleared the snow away from the front bumper, but even then the Jeep would not move, the front wheels spinning on icy pavement.
    Doug climbed out of the driver’s seat again and stared in frustration at the suspended rear tires, girded in the rusting chains. “Maura, you take the wheel,” he said. “Arlo and I are going to push.”
    “All the way back to Jackson?” said Arlo.
    “You have a better idea?”
    “If this is going to keep happening, we’re sure not going to make it by sundown.”
    “So what do you want to do?”
    “I’m just saying—”
    “What, Arlo? You want us to go back to the house? Sit on our butts and wait for someone to rescue us?”
    “Hey, man, take it easy.” Arlo gave a nervous laugh.