Haunted Hideout: Paranormal Suspense (The Haunted Ones Book 1)

by Dorey, Michelle

  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 looked 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 m
ore 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 person. 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.

  “Let’s sit next to the fire.” Mom nudged them before her heading into the living room. At least the fire provided some illumination.

  Shit! If the storm had knocked the power out it would soon get cold in there. And no dinner. They squatted down on the floor, huddling close to the heat source. Angela noticed that there were only two logs left on the hearth. That wouldn’t get them through the night.

  Maybe they could leave and get a hotel room. There was no way she wanted to stay in a cold house with no power. Especially not after what had just happened upstairs. This house was starting to feel seriously creepy.

  EIGHTEEN

  Jake

  JAKE’S CELL PHONE LIT THE WAY down the hallway to the cellar door. This was the very last place he wanted to be, with all the spiders and creepy-crawly things down there. He hated any and all kinds of bugs. He flipped the light switch on his way by, so there’d be light when and if the main breaker had somehow tripped, and he could turn it back on. Highly unlikely but still, one could hope.

  He crept slowly down the old stairs, keeping his hand on the handrail. He pointed the beam of light along the wall where he’d seen the electrical panel earlier. But it was hard to tell if the main breaker was in the on or off position.

  He inched forward, about to take the next step when he got shoved from behind! Hard. He flailed down the stairs, grasping for the handrail but missing. He hit the cement pad at the bottom with a resounding thunk that knocked the wind out of him.

  His phone had gone flying at the same time, landing with a clatter and going out. Damn! Now he was in complete darkness. He winced with pain as he got to his feet.

  Damn it! The kid? He pushed him? He took a deep breath. That shove had come out of nowhere and was really strong. There was no way that puny kid could have possibly sent him flying like that! He was almost two hundred pounds for God’s sake. Even Lydia and Angela wouldn’t be able to manage it. It had to be a guy. The kid had said he’d seen that guy again.

  Oh shit. Maybe he hadn’t been lying.

  He had to get the hell back upstairs! There was someone in the house! The drug cartel? Oh God. Pain once more arced in his shoulder when he slid his hand in his pocket to grab the lighter. He flicked it on as his other hand reached for his weapon. He’d find the phone later; it was probably busted up anyway.

  The lighter’s flame did little to pierce the darkness, but it was enough to see the next stair. He held his breath, listening. There wasn’t a sound on the stairwell, no breathing or anything to indicate that whoever had pushed him was still there, but he couldn’t take a chance. He’d be no good to anyone if he got broadsided again. Not breathing, and listening with all his might he went up the stairs slowly.

  When he got to the upper landing he fumbled at the doorknob. He had left the damn thing open when he started down, but now it was shut. He twisted it, but it remained firm. Uh oh—they’d locked the door. Oh shit. They had the family!

  He twisted, hunching lower and kicking the door with everything he had. The vibrations shuddered through his shins but still the door stayed shut. He gave it another kick and then another, winding up for another assault when it flew open.

  “Jake! What the hell?” Lydia’s shocked eyes were locked on the gun.

  He pushed past her, shielding her with his body. “Get down!” he hissed at her. “Where are they?” His eyes tried hard to see into the kitchen and down the hall. Only dark shapes showed from the dim light of the fire in the other room—too small to be grown men.

  “What? They’re here?” She darted out and raced down the hallway to her kids. “Oh my God! Do something!”

  All he had was the damned lighter to see anything! They could be hiding anywhere!

  But why were they hiding? There’d been plenty of time to snatch the family or even kill them while he’d been locked in the cellar. “Did you see anyone in the house?”

  “No but—”

  “That old guy!” Mark’s voice was high-pitched, nearly hysterical. “He’s still out there! He stared at me through the window!”

  “Oh my God!” Lydia’s wasn’t much better.

  “Stay together by the fire. Don’t move. I’ll check the house.” Damn it! The lighter was getting hot in his palm but he held it high slowly creeping into the kitchen.

  “My cell phone is on the counter! It’s got a flashlight app too!”

  He swung his arm to the right and sure enough Angela’s phone was next to the sink. He scooped it up, letting the lighter drop right after. He found the buttons and immediately was rewarded with a beam of light. He kept his gun high, shining the light around the room. But there wasn’t anything there. He made his way through the rest of the downstairs, each room revealing nothing more than the furniture.

  When he left the empty room at the back and returned to the living room, he stared over at the three of them, huddled together in front of the fire. “Stay here. I’m going to...” He cocked his head, listening hard. There was something upstairs. A muffled, low sound thrummed from above. He put his finger over his lips signaling them to be quiet and made his way to the staircase. The sound got louder with each step.

  He jumped when all the lights came on. He blinked his eyes at the sudden brightness and slipped the phone in his pocket. The lights blazing just confirmed the power outage was storm related.