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

by Dorey, Michelle

  Angela echoed her thoughts, whispering, “I have to use the bathroom,” Lydia’s eyes closed and she sighed. Her daughter squirmed and then squeezed her legs tight together. It was a feeling she knew all too well.

  Jake met her gaze and then got to his feet, “We stick together. Mark and I will wait on the top step and you keep Angela company. It’ll be fine.” He looked over at Mark, “You can tell me about this Minecraft game while we wait. Let’s have a normal conversation, try not to be victims.”

  She took a deep breath and led the way across the room, looking up the staircase before setting foot there. All was quiet up there...for now. Jake had secured the bedrooms, so they should be okay. Angela’s fingers dug into her forearm and she turned to give her daughter a smile. It felt plastic and forced.

  Her body grew tighter and more wary with every step higher. The creaking steps sliced through the raw ends of her nerves. The gaping door was just ahead, another two steps and still nothing had happened. She pushed the door wider and crept inside. Whatever had banged around in the upstairs earlier had left the bathroom alone, thank God.

  When Angela followed her in she shut the door and stood with her back pressed against it. The only sound was Mark’s voice talking to Jake. She closed her eyes and willed her heart to slow as she waited for Angela to finish. The toilet flushed and then Angela was beside her turning the sink tap on.

  So far, so good. She took her turn, the sigh of relief not only due to her pressing bladder emptying but also that nothing scary had happened.

  The sound of water started gushing from the tap over the bathtub made her turn her head to look. Lydia gasped. Angela didn’t turn that water on, she was at the sink. She looked back at her daughter. Oh no! She was staring into the mirror above the sink, and her mouth had fallen open, her eyes also wide.

  Oh God. It was happening again!

  Jake’s voice broke through, “Are you guys all right in there?”

  “No! I mean yes...” She quickly finished and then lunged across the room to shut the tap off. Her heart was racing again, and she glared at the chrome tap handle. “Stop this shit! We’ve had enough!” She spun around and grasped Angela’s shoulders. Seeing the mirror, Lydia gasped.

  Oh my God! The reflection in the mirror! A dark-haired girl with deep-set eyes stared back! This was the girl Angela had seen! The ghost!

  She pushed Angela to the side and grabbed the door handle. They had to get out of there! But the door wouldn’t budge! “Open, damn you!” Her fingers twisted and she tugged for all she was worth.

  “Mom!” Angela pressed into her, her fingers clawing at her shoulders.

  She turned her head and screamed! The girl was right behind Angela! Blood streamed from the wound in her neck. Her hand rose and she came closer! Lydia pulled Angela into her arms and turned away so that she sheltered her daughter from the specter approaching. Oh God.

  The thundering on the door was followed by Jake’s voice, “Get back! I’m breaking the door down!”

  Angela clung to her, her face hidden in the curve of Lydia’s neck. Lydia twisted and she could see the girl’s finger cross her bloody lips. She wanted them to be quiet? As if! “Leave us alone!” Lydia’s voice sounded like a broken screech even to herself. Any more of this and she’d check herself into a looney bin.

  Another two resounding thuds and the door burst open! Jake stared at her and then past her. His eyes bulged at what he saw. He grabbed her arm, and pulled both of them through the doorway.

  She raced down the stairs right behind her daughter and son. So much for trying to be calm. The bathroom door slammed shut, and Jake’s breath was hot on her neck, following closely.

  When they entered the living room they scurried to the sofa gulping mouthfuls of air. Lydia sat between the kids, each arm pulling them into her. The picture of the girl was tattooed to her retinas! She’d never be able to rid herself of that face, the blood from her neck oozing fresh.

  Angela’s head lifted and she stared at her. “You saw her, didn’t you? She was there, in the room with us!”

  She nodded. “The same girl in the photo. She was in the mirror and then she was there, behind you.” She looked over at Jake. It was clear from the look in his eyes that he’d seen her too. “That’s why you came running down earlier, isn’t it? She was in Angela’s room.”

  “Yeah.” He sat back and then his hands threaded through his hair, becoming fists tugging handfuls. He was quite literally tearing his hair out. Now she knew how a person could be so shook up that they’d do that. His hands dropped and he looked over at her. “She threw a book at me.”

  “What?” Her head bobbed, gaping at him.

  Before she could say anything more, Mark spoke, “What kind of book?”

  She glanced at her son. Trust him to ask for specifics. Turning back to Jake, “Did it hit you? Where is it?”

  Jake got up and threw a log into the fire. He turned to them and his face was drawn, worn out. “It’s her diary from the looks of it. I was going to read it after we got out of here.”

  Lydia stood up, “Where is it? I think we should read it now!” She looked down at Angela and Mark, “I think she’s trying to warn us about something. She signaled to be quiet when we were in the bathroom.”

  Angela’s mouth dropped, and she shook her head. “Are you serious? This isn’t bad enough, stuck in a haunted house? Now we need to read some dead girl’s diary? This is totally crazy!” She folded her arms with a huff. “Reading a girl’s diary is begging for trouble you know.”

  Mark elbowed his sister, “Like we’re not in trouble now? How much worse can it get? It might actually help. Don’t forget, I was the one who saw the mean old man. He’s scary.”

  “I agree with Angela. Leave it alone.” Jake took a seat again.

  Lydia could feel her jaw tighten. Just because Jake thought it was a bad idea didn’t make it so. “It’s two against two, a tie. Got a coin? Let’s call it.”

  Jake rolled his eyes but he reached in his pocket and pulled out a quarter, holding it up. “Heads we leave it, tails we read it, although I really don’t see how that’s going to help us right now.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, and her chin rose. “Just flip it, already.”

  He shook his head and then tossed the coin high. The light of the fireplace glinted in a flash off it before it landed in his palm. He closed his fist and then planted his hand on his other one. He lifted his hand and sighed, “You win.”

  “Where is it?”

  Lumbering to his feet, he mumbled, “I’ll get it.” He walked across the room, and when he came back he handed the diary to her. “Knock yourself out.”

  A faint whiff of lilac wafted from the cushioned cover and watermarks stained the pattern lilies. The raised, gold-embossed lettering had cracked in a few places. For a moment she hesitated looking at it. It felt wrong to be reading another person’s private journal.

  Mark tugged at her shirt, “C’mon, Mom. Read it.”

  She looked into his brown eyes and saw Liam in the earnest expression there. Her husband was gone just like this young girl. Both murdered. The amount of violent death she’d been exposed to in just the last three days was overwhelming. She feathered her fingers though Mark’s hair. Any of them could be next.

  Not on her watch. Taking a breath she shook the forboding feeling away. The girl had pitched it at the FBI agent. She must have wanted the journal to be read.

  She sat down and opened the book. The first page was smudged and faded but she was able to make out the loopy script.

  Property of Nancy Hawkins - PRIVATE (that means you!)

  Angela nudged her. “See? We shouldn’t be reading this.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes. She wouldn’t mention the fact that Angela was hunched close to her, her eyes riveted on the book.

  She turned the page and read out loud.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  Angela

  ANGELA SHIVERED AND CLAMBERED closer to her mother a
s she began reading.

  April 5, 1930

  Dear Diary,

  Happy birthday, ME! Sweet Sixteen. Thanks to Mom, I can now write my thoughts and feelings down. She slipped you, Diary, to me when we were making breakfast and told me to hide you. Daddy doesn’t like secrets and you are absolutely my secret. I could hardly wait to get through the day to be able to start.

  But where to start? This is my first official diary so I don’t want to mess this up.

  My name is Nancy Hawkins and today is my sixteenth birthday! Drat. I already told you that. See? I knew I’d mess it up. You’ll have to be patient with me.

  My mom is Daisy. She’s really sweet to me, just like the maple candy she makes! She wanted to name me Lily, a flower just like her name but Daddy wanted to name me after his favorite aunt. Nancy’s a plain name but I’m stuck with it. I guess that’s why she picked a book with a picture of a lily on the cover.

  I have a younger brother, Jeremiah. He’s twelve and spoiled rotten. He gets to do whatever he wants and never gets in trouble when he shirks his chores, which is often.

  My Daddy is a preacher at the First Baptist Church down the road. He’s strict. When he’s not writing sermons he tends to the farm. We have cows, two horses and some noisy chickens. Jeremiah is supposed to clean the stalls, but of course he goes swimming, or hanging out with Billy Mullins. Anything but the chores. I’ve offered to help, but Daddy says the barn is no place for a girl.

  Angela was already tired of the girl’s story and her mother’s droning voice. She snatched the book from her mother’s hands. “This isn’t helping. We need to find out what happened to her, not all these boring details.” She thumbed through the book. There had to be over a hundred pages!

  Mark grabbed at it but she held the book high, out of his reach. He whined, looking over at Mom. “She didn’t even want to read it! Let me have it or you take it!”

  But it was Jake who snatched the book from her hand. “I’ll scan through it. She threw it at me, after all. There might be something toward the end that will give us a clue what happened. Why the old man went berserk and killed them all.”

  “WHAT?” Mom almost flew up from the sofa, her hands on her hips glaring at him.

  Jake opened and closed his mouth a couple times.

  “What the hell did you just say? You KNEW about this place? And brought us here?!”

  “No...” He looked around the room, anywhere but at Lydia. “I...” He took a deep breath. “When the appliances were being delivered, some old geezer told me that this place had a history, that’s all.”

  “Oh really.” Mom crossed her arms. “Just what kind of history?”

  “He said something about some murders...” Jake sighed. “And that the place was thought to be haunted.”

  “What! And you just...”

  Angela could only stare as Mom proceeded to give the FBI guy shit. He’d known the story and yet he’d still put them in a house that was cursed. She felt Mark sidle closer to her. His eyes were wide, and his jaw had fallen open.

  He inched closer and whispered in her ear. Actually more like a low voice to be heard over Mom’s screaming lecture at Jake. “I knew that old guy was bad. He killed his whole family.”

  Angela sunk lower on the sofa. She’d heard snippets of news broadcasts where a mother or father went crazy and killed the family, committing suicide afterwards. And here she was, sitting in a house where it had actually happened. A house where they were supposed to live! And they’d known it when they put them there!

  The FBI were supposed to keep them safe. How in God’s name was putting them up in a haunted house safe? What brain surgeon came up with that brilliant plan? She took a deep breath, clenching her jaw so tight her teeth ached. At this point she’d take her chances with the drug cartel.

  She looked at her mother screaming at Jake. Her face was red as a tomato, and that vein in her forehead had popped out. A spittle flew from her lips when her mouth kept going. She’d only seen her mom this mad once, when another real estate agent had scooped her on a million dollar deal.

  Mark stood up and pulled at his mother’s arm. Tough to do since she was swinging them like she was using sign language. “Mom! Let him read it! Getting mad isn’t going to help us. But that book might.”

  Mom’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes flashed. But she sat down, her arms folded tight over her chest. “Fine!” She sneered at Jake. “Okay Mister FBI, read it! Then tell us how we’re going to get through this alive!”

  Jake’s chin dropped and he looked over from under a creased brow. “I’m sorry. Give me a minute to see if there’s any clue to...to deal with this.”

  TWENTY NINE

  Jake

  JAKE’S HAND TREMBLED WITH ANGER and terror as he thumbed the pages of the diary. He was pissed off to no end at Lydia for screaming at him like all this was his fault. For the love of God—who the hell would have believed that crazy story the delivery guy told him? He was scared shitless because…well, because that crazy story was true.

  Not only were ghosts real—seeing that girl Nancy’s spirit was absolute proof—but they were trapped in this house with them!

  He flipped a few pages, skimming the handwritten paragraphs...

  May 14th 1930

  I can’t wait to get out of this house. The day was going well up until we got home from church. Mom was going to make dumplings for the chicken stew but she’d run out of eggs. I went out to the barn to see if any of the hens had laid, but Daddy caught me coming out of the barn. I thought he’d still be at the church and he’d never know. Oh was he furious!

  After he finished beating me (he used a willow switch! Owww!) he sent me back to the house. I looked at him as he stood in the pathway, staring at the barn. He looked scared. I don’t know why he was scared, I’m the one who got the whupping! What’s in there Daddy doesn’t want me to know about?

  Jake’s eyes narrowed. If it weren’t for the grisly murder, this would just be the complaining of a teenage girl. But knowing how it ended, it might be significant. He flipped ahead a few more pages,

  May 29th 1930

  I was coming back from the outhouse tonight when I heard the barn door slam shut. I saw Daddy was coming up the path. He was walking funny and his face was red as a tomato. I don’t know why, but it scared me. He’d been fine earlier in the day, so I knew he wasn’t sick. I ran to get Mom to see what was wrong. She took one look at him and then made me go upstairs for the night.

  So here I am Diary writing to you. Something ain’t right though. I can hear Daddy yelling at Mom from the air vent in my room. And his words are slurred. He sounds like Willy Brown did when he got stung on the lip by a wasp. Mom isn’t saying anything. Why would he be so angry with her?

  Jake’s gaze fell to the side. Kids on farms sure were innocent back then. Obviously her father was drunk. And he was a mean drunk at that. But the time period. In 1930, Prohibition was in full swing. Besides which, he was a preacher. But he wouldn’t be the first hypocritical clergyman he’d ever seen. Was he brewing moonshine?

  Lydia grabbed the wine bottle and poured two glasses. She handed one to him. “Don’t just keep it to yourself! At least I read out loud.”

  He glanced at the kids before he spoke, “It looks like the father, this Charles guy liked his liquor even though he was a pastor. Things were strained between the daughter and her old man. A lot of this is her griping about him.” He took a long swallow of the wine and set the glass on the floor next to him.