Haunted Hideout

by Michelle Dorey

  “We’ve got it.” Angela squatted down and sat next to Mark, soaking up the heat like a cat.

  When Jake’s feet thudded on the stairs, Mark hissed at his sister. “Ange? You hate being called that. And he’s calling me, son.” He shook his head and grabbed the poker, giving the fire a stir. Maybe when they got the car, Jake would leave. With any luck that would be tomorrow.

  Angela nudged him with her shoulder. “He means well. Ange and son are just his way of talking. I’ll kind of miss having him around when he goes. You have to admit, it’s safer having him around.”

  Mark huffed. “If you call pulling a gun on me, safer!” He let the poker drop onto the hearth with a clang. The way Jake had questioned him about the keys still rankled. It wasn’t bad enough he didn’t believe him about the guy, but to accuse him of taking the keys was just insulting...and not true.

  Angela stared over at him. “Jake pulled a gun on you? What the hell? What were you doing?”

  He rolled his eyes seeing the anger in hers. But he had to tell her the truth. “He was checking the cellar and I went downstairs. I surprised him or something. I’m lucky he didn’t shoot me.”

  She swatted his arm. “Well jeeze, Mark! He’s the freaking FBI! You don’t sneak up on those guys. Not if you value your life. That was dumb.”

  It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. His hand shot out, and he hit her back. Hard. He’d had more than enough of being called dumb, not even believed when he was telling the truth! “Shut up! It wasn’t dumb. You’re dumb! You’re barely passing in school, Ange!”

  She got one more cuff to the side of his head before she flounced off, muttering over her shoulder, “Nerd!” And then she was gone, probably telling Mom how mean he’d been to her. He got up and went over to the window, waiting for his mom to come flying in to give him shit.

  The storm was still raging, and the wind had picked up, hurling the big flakes helter-skelter. They were lucky they’d gotten the wood in when they had. It would be hard to find the house from the barn in that storm, a sheet of white had descended with a vengeance.

  Sudden darkness obliterated the white haze. A face pressed close to the glass.

  Holy shit! The old man! The guy he’d seen that morning! His body froze. The old guy kept staring at him. Mark didn’t dare breathe. The guy’s eyes were dark and squinty, an angry sneer set in his curled lip. And then he moved away. Gone in an instant...silently. White flakes again shimmered in the air outside.

  Mark gulped, feeling his heart thud fast in his chest. His breaths were shallow and quick while his knees threatened to give out.

  Should he try to see where the guy had gone? But if the old guy’s face suddenly appeared in the window again, he’d piss himself. He wasn’t totally sure he hadn’t already. The back door! Had that stupid agent locked it? He raced through the house until his fingers closed on the latch. He flipped it shut. Oh God. He panted. That had been close.

  “Mark?”

  When he spun around Mom was in the hall just outside the kitchen. “What are you doing?” Her head tipped to the side watching him closely. “You weren’t going outside, were you?”

  He shook his head instinctively. Should he tell her? None of them had believed him before. With the doors locked they were safe from whoever was outside. The guy was old, not likely to break the door down no matter how pissed off he looked. “N...no.” He sucked in a breath, keeping his shaking hands at his sides, out of sight. “I was checking the door, that’s all.”

  Mom just rolled her eyes and sighed. It was weird. Normally she could catch him out when he lied. He was having a hard time looking normal, gulping for air and trying to get his heart to stop thundering.

  “Were you fighting with Angela?” Without waiting for him to answer she kept going, “I need you two to get along, Mark. This is hard enough without you guys being mean with each other.”

  Angela’s head darted out beside her mother’s arm, her eyes full of spite. “He started it.”

  Mom’s hands rose like a traffic cop. “Stop!” She spun on Angela. “You go into the kitchen. I want to talk to you.” Turning back to him, “You go tend to the fire! No more arguing! Got it?”

  She looked like she was ready to blow her top. Now was definitely not the time to say anything about what he’d seen. They wouldn’t believe him anyway. He stormed off to the living room, shutting the curtains before he sat down near the fire.

  He didn’t take his eyes from the windows for a second.

  SIXTEEN

  Jake

  JAKE HOOKED HIS JEANS AND SHIRT TO THE BACK OF THE DOOR and then stepped into the shower. The hot water eased some of the cold tension out of his muscles and he leaned forward soaking his head before scooping a palm full of shampoo to slather his hair and body. Even though the water pressure was fine, the spray at his own place, set to needle-like jets was better. There was always something off about using another person’s shower, let’s face it.

  He closed his eyes when suds drooled down his forehead, his fingers pushing soap into his ear canals. Then abruptly the water stopped. Shit! They must be running the sink or dishwasher. His skin prickled with goose bumps in the sudden chill. He scraped the soap from his face with his hands and leaned forward to fiddle with the tap handle. Even a slow drizzle would help rinse him off.

  He jerked back at the sudden rush of water. The handle had flipped to the closed position! What the hell? His eyes opened wider as he turned the lever and the spray started once more. How had that handle shut off? He couldn’t blame it on the age of the plumbing since the taps and faucet were pretty damn new. One of the things that the artist couple must have changed. Maybe some sort of screw was cross threaded or something that it wouldn’t stay on. He’d check it later. In the meantime he held it in place and rinsed off with his other hand sloshing water on his head and body.

  Yet, the others had all used the taps and they hadn’t said a word about any malfunction. And for sure they would have. Especially Mark. It would be one more thing for him to make a fuss about to get attention. Angela didn’t need to do that. That kid could land in a pile of shit and still come out smelling like a rose. People were always drawn to someone with her confidence. It didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous, much like her mother. Mark must take after the father.

  He finished the shower and then turned it off. He flipped the curtain wide and grabbed his towel, wiping it over his face and head. The bathroom sure didn’t keep the heat. He stifled a shudder and then dried the rest of him. He was about to step out when the yawning door to his left made him pause. He’d shut that door! Damn it! Someone had come in when he was using the shower and left the damned door open. Nice! He didn’t have to think too hard to know who that someone probably was—the little shit.

  He shoved the door closed and smiled at the resounding bang. Hope that scared the hell out of the kid. A glance at the floor showed his clothes were kicked under the pedestal sink. They were probably full of dust now. He was going to change anyway, but that wasn’t the point, was it? The end of this assignment couldn’t come soon enough. The poor mother had her hands full with that kid.

  He grabbed clean clothes from his bag and quickly got them on. Just one more thing. He turned to check the shower. He turned the tap on and off a few times to see if it would move on its own, but each time it stayed where he put it. He blew out a long breath through clenched teeth. The kid probably reached in and flipped the shower off. Shit, while he’d been showering in there!

  He gave the tub a quick rinse, shoved his used clothes in the bag and left the room. When he reached the bottom stair, he peered in the room at the boy. The kid was hunched close to the fireplace, but staring at the front window. And it wasn’t like there was much to see there with the curtains drawn tight. He was probably trying to hide his face, laughing at the trick he pulled.

  He strode over and glared down at Mark, “Think that’s funny, do you?”

  Mark’s eyes were like golf balls when he look
ed up. “What?”

  He had to give the kid credit for the poker-faced, total innocence. “You know what. Don’t worry, I won’t tell your mom but don’t try that trick again. Got it?”

  Mark’s face screwed up when he answered, “I have no idea what...” His face cleared, and he spat the next words, “You left the back door unlocked. Anyone could come right in. Nice job.”

  So that was how he was going to play it—deflect. Plus the punk was full of shit—he specifically remembered ensuring that the back door was locked when he brought in the firewood. Little shit. Jake took a deep breath. “Don’t ever come in the bathroom when I’m using it. That’s not funny.” He tilted his head down at the boy. “It’s kind of weird, you know.”

  The kid jerked back and his face looked like he was sucking lemons. “Eew! As if.” He turned back to the fire and threw another log on, sending a shower of sparks high.

  Whatever. Jake took his phone out and walked over to the sofa. He had calls to make. If the kid wanted to be like that, fine. When he powered up the phone, there was no signal. Great. The storm must be getting worse to knock the cell tower signal out. He was stuck here until it cleared.

  He looked up, hearing Lydia and Angela talking in the kitchen. From the sounds of it, she was giving the kid shit about the bottle of whiskey.

  At the fireplace, the boy was still silent, sulking as if he had any right to do that. Yeah, Lydia had her hands full all right. One kid lifting booze from the store and the other making up stories and playing tricks for attention.

  He sighed. They’d all been through some serious shit. They were here for the long haul, but not him. The sooner this babysitting detail ended the better. He was really the only functioning adult right then and he would be leaving as soon as she got the car.

  He gave his head a shake. If he was the only adult in the place he could act more like one. Instead of fuming at the kid, maybe try to get him to talk or something. “Hey Mark. Do you know how to play Gin Rummy? How about a game while we’re waiting for dinner?”

  The boy turned and looked at him like he’d suggested running naked in the snow. “Shouldn’t you do a check outside or something? You’re supposed to be protecting us, right?”

  It was all he could do to keep from rolling his eyes. The kid was still milking the story from that morning—seeing some old guy on the beach. He really was making it difficult to be nice. “I am protecting you. But we’re not exactly under siege right now, not unless you count the storm. It’s doing a pretty good job.”

  He got up and stretched before walking over to the window and peeking out. “Holy cow. There’s at least four inches that’s come down since we came home.” He turned to Mark, still holding the curtain to the side. “You ever see so much snow as this, buddy? Take a look.”

  Mark’s gaze flitted between the window and Jake. He looked like a scared rabbit. Finally he spoke, “That guy is still out there, y’know. I saw him when you were upstairs.”

  Jake let out a long, slow breath. There was no way he was going to take the bait, indulge the kid with going out into a freezing blizzard. The kid had been upstairs and that was that. “Well, we’ll look for tracks tomorrow when the storm stops. If there’s someone creeping around outside, we’ll know then. How’s that?”

  But the kid’s only response was a look every bit as icy as the wind outside. Jake cocked his head at the loud voices coming from the kitchen; things were plenty hot in there.

  SEVENTEEN

  Angela

  ANGELA LEANED HER BUTT against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked at the bottle of whiskey and her eyes narrowed. Was this for real? Mom was actually accusing her of putting that bottle of whiskey on the counter? She glared at her mother. “First off, I was with you almost every minute today. And second, even if I wasn’t, how would I be able to buy liquor? I’m fifteen, Mom.”

  “I know you’re fifteen! I was there when you were born!” Mom’s hands snaked through her hair and fisted, like she was about to rip it out. Tears flooded her eyes.

  “Mom. Listen to yourself! I had nothing to do with that bottle of whiskey.” Angela stopped herself in time before blurting the rest of her thoughts. Mom was losing it. The strain of losing Dad and being yanked from their home was killing her. Hell, she wasn’t the only one! But she’d be damned if she was going to add to Mom’s stress.

  Mom’s hands dropped and she strode over to the counter, and grabbed the bottle. “This was your father’s brand.”

  Angela’s chest ached when she saw the tears roll down her mother’s cheeks. Her lips quivered when she answered her mother, “I know that, Mom.” The fact that it was Dad’s drink just reinforced the fact that her mother had bought it. Maybe Mom slipped it into the cart when she’d left. The two of them were only separated for the few minutes when she went to drag Mark from the gaming section. But that would have been plenty of time for Mom to pick up the bottle on the sly.

  A cold dread seeped into her bones. Was this lapse of memory temporary? Would she have to pick up the slack running the house? Shit! Life really sucked.

  Watching her mother pour a glass to the brim with the liquor didn’t help ease her worry. “Do you think you should have that, Mom? I mean we haven’t even eaten yet. Dad used to wait till after dinner.”

  Her mother jerked around to face her, sloshing a little on her wrist. “Yes, I need a drink from the mystery bottle. Maybe it’ll make me feel better.”

  Was this woman with the disheveled hair, eyes bloodshot from tears, no makeup, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt really her mother? And drinking like this? Mom didn’t do this kind of thing, and she always looked done up like a fashion model. Everything was falling apart.

  She took a deep breath. “Do you want me to get the vegetables ready? Make a salad?”

  Mom downed a quarter of the glass and then set it down hard on the counter. “Angela. Where did the other half of this bottle go? Did you take it?” Her eyes closed and she sucked in a breath, “First you pilfer this bottle and then you sneak half the contents? Tell me the truth. No more lies.”

  Angela’s mouth fell open. What was wrong with her? Accusing her like this, not even the slightest attempt to be reasonable. “I’m not lying!” She pushed past her mother and then spun around in the doorway, glaring, “Maybe you drank it Mom! Right after you...yes YOU!...bought it!” She raced down the hall and then flew up the stairs. To hell with Mom!

  She slammed the door in her bedroom and threw herself on the bed, giving in to the flood of tears. This time it wasn’t just sadness, missing Dad. She should just leave. Leave them all. Mom was losing it, and Mark...well, he wouldn’t miss her.

  She cried harder. Yes, he would. Who would stick up for him at school? Shit! Shit! Shit!

  And Mom couldn’t do this alone. She could picture her father’s face, the sadness and disappointment in her for even thinking it. She’d have to somehow stick it out. If not for them, for Daddy’s sake.

  But there was no way she was going down for dinner. Let Mom chew on that.

  She stiffened at the light taps on her door. Mom better not accuse her of any more shit. An apology would hardly even cut it.

  “Angela?” Damn, a little kid’s voice. Mom sent Mark up and he’s scared stiff of all this; he sounds like a baby!

  “Go away!” The last thing she needed was Mark wheedling and trying to be nice. Couldn’t they just leave her alone!

  At the creak of the door opening, she sat up, grabbing the pillow to hurl at him. She looked over but there was no Mark, just the door opening slowly. The little shit had opened the door and then ran away! Anything to bug her! She jumped up from the bed and with two resounding steps forward, she slammed the door again. This time she pushed the handle, locking it.

  Something in the edge of her vision moved. Her head spun around, but there was only the window, sheets of snow swirling in the wind, while the tree branch clawed at the glass. But that hadn’t been it. No, it had been larger, like a pe
rson. The hair on her arms tingled high again. That girl in the mirror? Her heart thudded against her ribs and she looked around the room.

  Everything went black. Oh my God! Her hand flew out, hitting the doorframe. Her fingers flailed along the wall. Where was the light switch? Finally she found it and flipped it a few times. Still the room was black as tar.

  “Mom!” She went to open the door. But nothing happened. The doorknob wouldn’t move. Oh God! Wait. She’d locked it, that’s all. She twisted again and heard it click, popping the lock open. She lurched out into more black. All the lights were out?

  “Angela! Are you okay?” Her mother’s yell from downstairs was a small bit of relief.

  Angela stepped slowly, feeling her way with her foot before planting it on the floor. She started at the sound of the creak of the floorboard; it went straight through her like a knife. She took a breath, trying to make her voice normal, “What happened to the lights?”

  “Probably the storm, but I’m going to check the breaker panel.” Jake’s voice came up the stairwell. A beam of light danced along the walls, enough that she could see the railing and stairs. “Come on down here. I’ll need this light to go down to the cellar.” He held his cell phone out, using its flashlight app.

  She had a cell phone downstairs too; they could use it as a second light. She hurried down, her feet thudding quickly on the stairs. Mom’s arm was around Mark holding him close. She reached for her hand and the three of them stood together, watching the beam of light and Jake go down the hall.