A Cold Tomorrow (Point Pleasant #2)

Heart in her throat, Katie darted after him. “Mom!” She caught a fleeting impression of jelly flats and bleached blond hair before cold night air struck her in the face.

“Over here.” Her mother was crouched by a form slumped against the building. “I’m not sure he’s breathing.”

Ryan got there first, but was quickly pushed aside by the doctor. Katie tugged her mom out of the way as two orderlies and a nurse arrived with a gurney. Several other people barreled from the ER, including most who’d been stuck in the waiting room. Even the girl on crutches hobbled outside.

“Get these people back,” the doctor yelled.

Ryan took charge of the growing crowd, ushering any non-medical personnel clear. “Okay, folks. Stand back. Let the doctor do his work.”

Katie found herself shuffled toward the sidewalk. Instinctively, she reached for her mom’s arm. “What happened?”

There were tears on her mother’s face. No one would ever accuse her of lacking heart. “I came out for a cigarette and saw him slumped over. Do you think he’s dead?”

“No.”

Katie’s response was automatic, but her mind had latched onto an image of the Ouija board with the planchette resting on the word GOODBYE. The wine and popcorn she’d had churned in her stomach, awakening a sharp pang of nausea. Swallowing hard, she pressed a hand to her middle. It was too much—Sam, the ER, wine, the creepy game. The doctor rolled the unconscious man over and she saw his face as clearly as she’d seen it last night.

“Oh, no. It’s Jerome.” His eyes were closed, his skin white and ghastly under the harsh glare of outside lighting.

“I’ve got a pulse,” the doctor said. “Let’s get him into a room. Stat.”

Katie choked back a cry as the orderlies lifted him onto the gurney. Jerome never so much as flinched, his body a dead weight. Swiftly, the gurney was hustled inside, leaving a befuddled crowd to murmur among themselves.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Katie said.

“Take deep breaths.” Ryan appeared at her side, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder.

“But Jerome…” She couldn’t get the image of his face out of her head. He’d looked lifeless, a plastic-like sheen to his skin, almost like a wax dummy. Where could he have been for the last twenty-four hours?

“I’ll get to the bottom of it,” Ryan promised.

Behind her, the crowd slowly broke up, most people returning inside. Cars rumbled down the street in the distance, cluttering her mind with the sound of engines, the thump of tires on asphalt. Snatches of conversation drifted on the chill air and added to the turmoil in her stomach.

Looked dead. Spooky stuff happening…end up like Chester’s cow.

And then a single name that cut through all the noise. A name that brought dread bound up with a heavier sense of awe.

Mothman.

Katie looked past the dispersing crowd and made eye contact with a man who stood at the corner of the building. But for his face and hands, he was shrouded in black from head to toe. His gaze burned through her, his eyes polished onyx, eerily familiar.

“I’m so cold,” she mumbled. Then promptly doubled over and threw up.





Chapter 4


Relieved to be home, Katie held a cold washcloth to her forehead and sniffled. “I feel stupid.”

“There’s nothing to feel stupid about. You’re just not used to drinking.” Ryan set a cup of black coffee in front of her, then sat next to her on the couch. Sam had collapsed in his bed ten minutes after they’d walked through the front door, exhausted after being wired on the adrenalin of the ER. The doctor had diagnosed his conjunctivitis as an allergic reaction rather than anything viral or bacterial.

“Probably an isolated event. We’ve had a few cases turn up, so it could be a reaction to something environmental, like a change in air quality. Even if your son has never displayed that type of sensitivity in the past, there’s always a first time.”

To be on the safe side, he’d prescribed an antibiotic and eye drops. Far from traumatized by the ordeal, Sam had spent the drive home explaining in vivid detail how they’d given him an eye wash in the exam room. With her stomach still roiling after her embarrassing display outside the ER, it wasn’t something she’d wanted to hear. Fortunately, she hadn’t disgraced herself a second time.

Her mom had followed her home and stayed until Ryan arrived with an update on Jerome. He was the one who’d suggested coffee, although her mom provided the cold compress for her throbbing head. While Katie rarely drank anything other than an occasional glass of wine—something she probably wouldn’t indulge in again for a long time—her mom had a long-standing association with hangovers.

“You don’t have to stay.” Katie slanted a glance at Ryan. He looked tired, a little haggard around the edges as if the day had taken a toll on him too. A lamp in the corner cast a small puddle of light behind him, leaving the underside of his cheeks slashed with shadow. He’d started his shift early that morning and probably hadn’t even been home yet.

A pang of guilt sliced through her. “I’ll be all right.”

“Sure you will, but I don’t mind staying for a while. You’ve had a full night between Sam and Jerome.”

Her stomach knotted. Sam was safe but she couldn’t say the same for Jerome. “I should have stayed with him last night. Made sure he got to the hospital.”

“Katie, it’s not your fault. You did what anyone would do, given the circumstances. We’ve put out an APB on Deputy Brown, but it would help if you could give a description.”

She winced, hating that she couldn’t conjure an image to match the name. “It was dark,” she said lamely. “I… I couldn’t see well.”

Ryan nodded. His expression troubled her, as if she’d failed him. Failed Jerome.

Irked at the glaring hole in her memory, she grasped for straws. “He must have had dark hair. Average. You know—height, build. Otherwise he would have stood out in my mind.”

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