![]() ![]() “Mom?” he yelled as he opened the front door. Swearing under his breath, he raked back the strands with rain-slicked fingers and slapped uselessly at his soaked shirt. Water streamed from his face by the time he reached the porch, and dripping shanks of dark brown hair were plastered to his forehead. ![]() Isaiah clenched his teeth, sprang from the vehicle, and broke into a run even as he slammed the door behind him. When he pushed open the door of the Hummer, his shirtsleeve grew instantly wet and icy, compliments of the high mountain chill that always descended on Crystal Falls, Oregon, when the autumn sunlight was obscured by clouds. ![]() Not for the first time since this storm had started, he wished he’d thought to grab a jacket before leaving home that morning. He dreaded the thought of making the fifty-foot sprint to the covered front porch of his parents’ suburban residence. Peering through the windshield, Isaiah Coulter could barely make out the houses along the tree-lined street. Rain pelted the vehicle with such force it sounded like pea gravel striking metal. Lightning flashed in the leaden sky, each brilliant burst quickly followed by a deafening clap of thunder. ![]()
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