Don’t Let the Devil Ride by Ace Atkins EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Ace Atkins
- Language: English
- Genre: Thriller / Suspense
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.9 MB
- Price: Free
Addison
The last time Addison McKellar’s husband disappeared, it had been the
night of the private Hootie and the Blowfish concert at the Overton Park
Shell. That was two years ago, back in 2008.
Thinking back on it, Addison knew it wasn’t technically Hootie and the
Blowfish, just Darius Rucker and his new band doing some alt-country
thing in sparkly blue jeans and snakeskin boots, making all the middle-aged
couples awkwardly dance and clap off-rhythm, pretending they still had it.
A sea of swaying sweaty arms, seersucker, khaki, and sundresses. Darius
sang “Only Wanna Be with You” and his new single “Come Back Song” as
the closer.
If you didn’t notice the hair loss and weight gain, it could’ve been Ole
Miss back in 1992.
Dean had held her tight, chin resting on her shoulder (they were nearly
the same height even when he wore his custom-made cowboy boots) as she
closed her eyes and moved with the music. Sure, he was a little on the short
side, but obsessively fit, with a full head of sandy blond hair and purposeful
scruff. Dean had finally relaxed when that third bourbon hit him. Not just
any bourbon, but a twenty-three-year-old Pappy Van Winkle poured into red
Solo cups that someone brought to celebrate Addison’s brother Branch’s
fortieth birthday.
The idea for the Big 4-0 blowout had been hatched with her sister-in-law
Libby over a three-gimlet lunch at the Brooks, not even bothering to catch a
glimpse of The Baroque World of Fernando Botero exhibition before
ordering their first of many cocktails. When Addison drank, a favorite quote
of her father’s always came to mind, “Suddenly, the trees had many leaves.”
Poor Daddy. He hadn’t been able to stand up and make the big Hootie show
for his son. When she’d asked if he’d like a wheelchair to make things
easier, he’d said, “What the fuck is a Hootie?”
Dean had been back in Memphis for an extended period this past year,
flying home from London via New York during some big new deal for
McKellar Construction. Addison never paid attention to the details. Her
husband seemed as happy as she’d ever seen him, although Dean wasn’t the
kind of man to show much emotion.
He was constantly trying to install that
stone-faced grit into their son, Preston, big on those father/son hunting trips
down at their camp in the Delta. Just last fall, Preston had shot his first deer
and she’d framed the photo with the poor deer’s blood smeared across her
son’s nine-year-old face. “Get a grip, Addy,” Branch had said, pontificating
with one of Dean’s fat Cuban cigars by their pool. “Your boy is going to be
a man whether you like it or not.”
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