Her Silent Shadow: A Gripping Psychological Suspense Collection

by Edwin Dasso

  Amanda tugged at Jack’s shoulder. “Dad, no! Don’t—he’s not worth it!”

  Jack brushed her hand away with one hand as he compressed Frederik’s neck with the other. “I won’t let you kill again!”

  “Jack!” Hank yelled then reached in and grabbed some of Jack’s fingers, bending them back. Hank used two hands to peel Jack’s hands from Frederik’s throat. He stepped between the two men and put a shoulder into Jack, pushing him back. “Amanda’s right! He’s not worth it,” Hank said, pointing at the far side of the room. “Go over there—please!”

  “You really are nuts, Bass!” Frederik screeched. He turned to look at Hank and Amanda. “Get that damn psycho away from me!”

  Jack spun and stormed to a corner on the far side of the room. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Frederik.

  Hank turned to Frederik. “Speaking of Erik—were you involved in what he was doing here before he”—he glanced quickly at Jack then back at Frederik—“died?”

  Frederik shrugged nonchalantly. “Not directly…but I was watching my brother from a distance.” He smirked. “I could tell he was up to something, even if he wouldn’t tell me any details. He never was very good about sharing his booty with me.”

  Hank snorted. “Nice family.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Jack. “Maybe we should just leave you two alone,” Hank said. “And whatever happens, happens.”

  Jack didn’t respond but narrowed his eyes as he nodded and took a step toward Frederik.

  Amanda slapped Hank’s shoulder. “Hank! You know you don’t mean that!”

  Hank gawked at her then shrugged. “Maybe not.”

  Amanda spun back to Jack, tugging at his shirt. “C’mon, Dad—lets you and I go out and get some fresh air!”

  He stared down into her eyes for a few seconds. I hate the way my mind has been working lately. I need to know if I’m as broken as I feel… “I’ll go out…but not with you. I need to go look for something first.” He twisted away and bolted out the door.

  42

  Jack ran from the cabin then slowed as he approached the largest building on the grounds. He stopped to gawk at it. Most of the camp buildings were weathered clapboard…barely more than old mountain shacks. This building was newer. Its metal exterior was faded slightly and covered in a red dust, but there was no obvious rust or rot. He crept around the perimeter until he came upon a door, stopping to peer at it. Could be booby-trapped. He examined the frame and couldn’t see any obvious signs. Screw it! He needed to see inside. Needed to know if his suspicions were borne out.

  Jack threw a shoulder against the door, losing his balance when it gave way easier than he’d expected. He stumbled into a dark hall just inside the entrance. The only light was that shining through the open door behind him. It took his eyes a couple of minutes to adjust enough to see there were several doors leading off the corridor. He crept to the first door and put his hand on the cool, smooth knob then twisted. Huh! Not locked. He threw the door open and jumped back to the side of the doorframe, craning his neck as he listened. After a couple of minutes, he edged his head around and peered in but could see nothing in the blackness. He slid a hand along the wall and soon found a light switch. He flicked it on and turned slowly to look around the room.

  His mouth fell open, and he dropped his arms limply to his sides, slowly scanning the room—a full mockup of his bedroom at his house.

  “Holy crap! This is amazingly accurate!” He glanced at the bed. “All the way down to the pillows and duvet!” But, how? How could they know? He’d have to figure that out at a later time. He shuffled over to the bed and sat on the edge, looking around the room. Amazing! But again…why my bedroom? His mind was still functioning like it was stuck in mud but somewhere in the recesses of his thoughts, logic was trying to push through. His gaze soon fell on another door, and he jumped off the bed then walked to the door and pressed an ear against it. He slowly wrapped his fingers around the knob, gently twisting it. When he heard the latch unclick, he threw it open and jumped back. No shots fired at him, no crazed bullies rushing at him. He grunted. Thank goodness for small miracles.

  He again located a light switch and flipped it on. When he turned to the room, he cocked his head and frowned. He swayed and stepped back, goosebumps flicking down the back of his neck. It-it can’t be! He rotated, taking in the room. He stepped to the side of the bed and looked up at the bank of monitors on the wall above the headboard. His lips trembled, and he became dizzy, leaning on the bed to steady himself as the memory of Janice dying roared into his mind. This was just like the ICU room where she and the baby had been murdered! No! He shook his head slowly and backed away. Jack focused, trying to force his brain into cohesive thoughts. Wait—is this all what was behind my…nightmares? Maybe it hadn’t all been just a bad dream. Maybe this was how Frederik had gone about convincing Jack he was “going bonkers.” It was all starting to slowly come together in Jack’s head…the LSD Stone had mentioned…these mock-up rooms they’d created…the actors Frederik said he’d hired as part of the ruse.

  He spun, searching for another door. I wonder? He vaulted to it and tried to open it, but this one was locked. His heart thumped as he stared at the barrier. I need to know! He stepped back a few steps then lowered his shoulder and charged at the door, hitting it with such force the frame disintegrated, and the door flew from its hinges. He tripped over the door and fell to his hands and knees. He wriggled his fingers. Sand! He jumped up and bolted to the wall near the door, his hands flying over the wall as he searched for a light switch. He soon felt a short row of toggles and jammed them all up. A buzzing from the lights on the high ceiling echoed in the large, warm chamber.

  He twisted his head around, peering over his shoulder. I didn’t just imagine it! He turned his body to the cavernous room and lurched across the sand covering the floor. He looked down. Footprints marred the sand, and he slowly put his foot into one. Mine! He snapped his head around, peering at the uneven surface a few yards away. Yes…there it was. He stepped closer and spotted the imprint of where someone had lain in the sand. A blood-caked blond wig lay next to the indentation. There were smaller footprints leading to and from the imprint, ending at yet another door on the far end of the room. Jack fell to his knees and grabbed his head with both hands.

  “Sonofabitch!” Why? Why so much hatred that you would do all of this? He threw his head back. “Yes, I killed your brother, but it was in self-defense!” he bellowed.

  “Jack! There you are!” Hank yelled as he sprinted through the open door. He jogged over to Jack and held out a hand. “Let me help you up.”

  Jack grabbed Hank’s hand and stood, hanging his head. Hank brushed the sand from Jack and stepped back then gazed around the expansive chamber. He waved an arm around.

  “What the hell is all this?” He put his hands on his hips. “This wasn’t here when I was a prisoner here.” He pointed a finger around the room. “I was pretty doped up then, but I sure don’t remember this.”

  Jack brushed more sand from himself then slowly raised his eyes to look at Hank’s face.

  “This”—Jack flung an arm around—“is part of a very elaborate hoax. Frederik went through a great deal of trouble and expense to make me think I really was going crazy.”

  “I recognized your bedroom, but what’s the deal with that ICU room?”

  “A replica of the place where Janice and my baby were murdered,” Jack mumbled. “I believe this room is supposed to be a rendition of Iraq—where Lori was killed.”

  “How’d he know how to create all this, anyway?”

  “That, I intend to find out, Hank. Seems, though, that Frederik was fanatically obsessed with torturing me mentally.” He kicked at the sand and shook his head slowly. “It amazes me how much time, money, and effort he devoted to his hatred.” He locked gazes with Hank. “I just don’t get it.”

  “Me, neither. Some people are just that way—they love to hate. Hat
e someone…something…anything.” Hank turned slowly then stopped, facing Jack. “He could have put all this effort and money into helping instead of hurting.”

  “Yeah…that seems like a no-brainer, doesn’t it?” Jack rubbed at his stinging ear then clapped Hank on the shoulder and started walking toward the door. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

  “You go ahead… I saw something outside that gave me an idea.”

  43

  “You’re hurting my arm!” Frederik yelled as Jack dragged him toward the large building where the replicas of places with bad memories for Jack were located.

  “Shut up!” Jack had no interest in listening to any whining from this clown. He kicked open the door to the building and yanked Frederik in after him. He stopped in his bedroom, pointing his finger around the room, then spun to Frederik. Jack needed to know if there were others who had been involved that were still out there and posed an ongoing threat to him. “You’re going to tell me how you managed to do this. How’d you know what my bedroom looks like in such detail?”

  Frederik smirked at him. “Screw off, Bass! I don’t need to tell you anything.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes, his jaw muscles working as he stared at Frederik. He jerked on Frederik’s arm, pulling him along to the next room. Frederik stumbled as he tried to keep pace with Jack. Jack jerked to a halt just inside the ICU room reproduction and stared straight ahead.

  “Is this supposed to be a replica of the room where my wife was killed?” he growled.

  “How perceptive of you.” Frederik chortled. “Erik told me about that little surprise he’d arranged for you.” He tried to yank his arm free of Jack’s grasp, but Jack just squeezed tighter.

  Jack pressed his lips tightly together. He could strangle this little jackass right here, and nobody would ever know. Tempting. “Come with me—there’s one more stop on this sick, little tour.”

  Jack tugged on Frederik’s arm so hard that Frederik lost his balance and fell to his knees. Jack didn’t stop, didn’t even slow, dragging Frederik along behind him. His gaze was laser-focused on the final door. He hauled Frederik into the next room then threw him onto the sand and straddled him.

  “This Iraq desert set had to cost a small fortune to construct.” He cocked his head as he gazed down at Frederik. “I know you’ve told me before, but it didn’t quite register.” Though Jack’s thoughts were starting to clear, his memory was still foggy. Trying to recall the recent past was like watching spectral visions darting about in the dark. “Tell me again—why all this trouble? All this expense? Why didn’t you just kill me?”

  Frederik started giggling then rolled onto his back, raising himself onto his elbows as he looked up at Jack then broke into a full guffaw. Jack kicked him on the bottom of his foot.

  “I asked you a question…and I didn’t think it was funny. What the hell do you find so amusing?”

  Frederik sat up suddenly and jammed an index finger at Jack. “You, Bass! You’re so thick-headed.”

  He started to stand, but Jack shoved him back onto the sand.

  “Answer me! Why?” Jack roared.

  “Fine! I wanted to torture you before I kill you. Make you suffer mentally, not just physically.” He smirked at Jack. “Does that answer your question?”

  “No. Not satisfactorily.” Jack glared silently at him for a few seconds then bent and grabbed one of Frederik’s ankles. He turned and started toward the door.

  Frederik kicked at Jack’s hand and wriggled wildly as he slid along on the ground. “Let me go, you crazy bastard! Where the hell are you taking me?”

  Jack didn’t respond or even look at him. He lugged him back through the ICU room and his bedroom, kicking the door open when he reached the exit from the building. Frederik thrashed more wildly as Jack pulled him across the hard, cold ground outside.

  “I said, let me go, goddammit! Nobody treats me like this!”

  “I do,” Jack muttered. “How do you like somebody treating you in a way you don’t like?” Jack pulled Frederik to the side of the hole where Jack and Amanda had been imprisoned then dropped Frederik’s leg and spun toward him. “Sucks, doesn’t it!” He reached down and grabbed a handful of shirt and wrenched Frederik to his feet then held him perched on the edge of the opening.

  “Look down there, you scumbag. I want you to remember this sight…then think of all the suffering that occurred down there and in this camp.” He pulled Frederik’s face close. “Because of you and your brother.”

  Hank guided the tractor toward the large cavity in the ground, a scoop of dirt in the loader bucket raised into the air. His eyes burned and watered from the exhaust the cold breeze blew into his face, but the sight of Jack holding Frederik by an arm still caught his eye. Jack was shaking Frederik, and his feet were hovering precariously on the edge of the opening. Hank slowed the machine to a crawl, watching as Jack pointed down. Hank shot quick glances between the two men and the abyss and then eased the loader up to the lip of the pit and stopped. He cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow as he gazed at Jack and Frederik.

  Now, what the hell is Jack up to?

  Frederik wrestled against Jack’s grasp and pushed back away from the hole. Jack grabbed him with both hands and pushed him back. Frederik teetered on the edge.

  “Jack! What the hell are you doing?” Hank called.

  Hank cut the throttle and put the tractor in neutral before clambering down. Just as Hank stepped to the ground, Frederik threw a shoulder into Jack, knocking him back. Frederik spun and ran away, staggering on the uneven ground. Jack recovered quickly and sprinted after Frederik and tackled him from behind. Hank rushed around the hole as Jack dragged Frederik by the collar back toward the opening. Hank slid to a stop next to the two men just as they reached the edge.

  “Jack, what’s up? What you got in mind here?”

  Jack’s jaw set, the muscles rippling under the skin of his face, but he remained mute.

  Hank took a step closer. “Why’d you bring him out here? You had to have known he’d try to get away.”

  Jack didn’t respond, staring straight ahead then glancing down into the pit. In one swift motion, Jack picked Frederik up by his shirt and threw him over the edge into the murk. A dull thud and a loud groan echoed up when he hit the bottom.

  Hank pushed Jack back and peered down into the darkness. He shot a look back at Jack. “What the hell’d you do that for?”

  Jack pointed at the tractor. “Bury him. Bury all his evil with him.” He turned his face to Hank, his eyes frozen into a thousand-yard-stare. “Fill it in so no one will ever suffer down there again.”

  Hank shook his head. “That’s not gonna happen, Jack.” He put a hand on each of Jack’s shoulders and turned him so they faced each other.

  “That would make us like him…like the type of person we both hate.” He shook Jack gently as he stared into his eyes. “I understand how you feel, but…that’s not us.” He flashed a smile. “I think those drugs they gave you have you not acting like yourself.”

  Jack stared silently at Hank.

  “Go inside with Amanda.” Hank pushed on Jack’s shoulder to turn him back toward the building where she was waiting. “I’ll take care of this.”

  Jack shoved his hands into his pockets, and shuffled across the compound. Once he’d gone into the building, Hank retrieved the ladder from the ground nearby. He lowered it into the pit then climbed down. He gave his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the gloom then stepped over to where Frederik lay crumpled on the ground. Hank shook the man’s shoulder.

  “You awake?”

  After not hearing a response, Hank felt for a pulse on Frederik’s wrist. Hank grunted when he felt the throbbing against his fingertip. Alive. That’s good enough for now. He bent, picked Frederik up, and positioned him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Hank hauled Frederik up the ladder and several yards from the hole then lowered him to the ground. Hank used a thumb to pry open one of Frederik’s eyelids then let it flicker close
d after the pupil contracted. He stood, brushed himself off, and strode back to the tractor.

  He dumped the load of dirt into the pit then brought many more until he’d filled the pit. He parked the tractor on top of the fresh mound of dirt, cut the ignition, and hopped off. He wiped his hands together as he walked several feet away then turned back to the knoll, his hands on his hips. Much better. He nodded once then went over and picked up Frederik. Hank carried the man into the building where Jack and Amanda were waiting and dropped him onto the floor then secured Frederik’s hands behind his back. When finished, he stood and turned to Jack and Amanda.

  “Ready to finish the plan?”

  44

  Amanda entered the cabin and lowered the gas cans to the floor. “I found a bunch of these out in the little barn. I think there should be plenty for our needs.”

  “Good girl,” Hank said. He waved an arm toward the door. “Shall we get the rest and get this over with?”

  They went to the barn, and each grabbed a five-gallon gas can. They used the fuel to douse the old, dried wood of several sheds. Hank spent extra time inside the large building, soaking blankets and other combustibles in areas that might not catch fire easily. He wanted to make sure the fire reached everywhere. When he exited the building, Amanda and Jack were huddled together a few yards away.

  Hank stopped in front of them, smiled, and raised the Molotov cocktail he had made. He looked at Jack and held out the bottle.

  “You want to do the honors, Jack?”

  Jack glanced at the bottle then cast his gaze slowly across the shacks and buildings before looking back at Hank. Jack shook his head.

  “No. You suffered more here than I did—I think it will help you get closure if you do it.”

  Hank stared at Jack for a few seconds then grunted. “Yeah…maybe it will.” A tight grin flashed across his lips. “my time here is a part of my life I’d love to forget all about. That’s for damn sure.”