Chasing Clowns: A Novel (Girl Clown Hatchet Suspense Series Book 2)

by Mav Skye

  “Your Aunt will have to.” Diana opened her purse and retrieved a sheet of paper. It was folded with a straight clean crease down the middle. “Because of this.”

  “What is it?” Chloe wound through the city toward their homes, keeping to the roads with streetlights. Every so often she glanced at the sheet of paper Diana clutched, wondering the mystery it held.

  “I printed out a news story about what happened here fifteen years ago.”

  Chloe said, “I don’t understand. A crime was committed?”

  Diana said, “It was very heinous.”

  Chloe contemplated this. She breathed as Doctor Morgan taught her. She didn’t remember a crime, unless the day Erin almost drowned was a crime…but she knew it wasn’t that. It was something dark and terrible hidden away in the deep recesses of her mind. “Did this involve me?”

  She pulled onto their street. Both of their driveways were in her sight.

  Diana said, “It did, but not in a way you may think.”

  Chloe pulled into her driveway, glancing again at the paper on Diana’s lap. “I don’t understand.”

  Diana turned to her and put the paper in her hand. “Only read it when you’re ready.”

  Chloe swallowed hard, trying to keep the dark wave from crashing on her mind.

  “I do not envy you, Chloe Sevenstars.”

  Chloe met Diana’s eyes.

  A beam of moonlight broke through the mist and haloed Diana’s peppered hair, giving her the appearance of an angel. She tightened the shawl about her shoulders. “Remember, Chloe; you’ve got a choice in this. You don’t have to suffer that pain all over again.”

  Chloe said, “I need to know how the clowns are connected.” The next she said more quietly, but with the same conviction. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

  “Well, that,” Diana jutted her chin toward the paper, “should give you a few answers.”

  They both got out of the car. Before Diana crossed the lawn to her house, Chloe said, “Thank you, Diana.”

  Diana bustled her lavender shawl about her shoulders. Though the moonbeams were once more suffocated by mist, she shone like an ethereal star. “Don’t thank me yet, Officer. Now, I need to see my Bubbles. I’m sure he’s destroyed the hat I spent all morning knitting. He gets that way when I leave him alone for too long.”

  Chloe smiled and watched her tiptoe across the wet lawn to her door, unlock it and with one last wave, step inside.

  16

  Cleave

  IT WAS QUIET IN THE HOUSE. Flip Flop yawned from his rug in the dining room. Chloe slipped out of her jacket, hung her purse, then joined the beast in the dining room. She squatted and scratched behind his ear. Flip Flop’s tail thumped silently on the carpet, and he looked at her adoringly from the corner of his eye, but he was too cozy to move.

  Chloe didn’t blame him. She brought the folded paper into the kitchen and set it on the counter. She stood back and stared at the gifted clue that, for better or worse, would change her life forever.

  Right now? Was the time right?

  A wine bottle on the counter caught her eye. Gnarly Head 1924 Double Black. She reached for it, then glanced up at the cupboard above the fridge. She pulled out the stool from between cabinets and stepped up. A half bottle of Jim Beam whiskey sat right where she had left it last. She snatched the shot glass beside it and brought them down to the counter. After putting the stool away, she poured herself a shot and swallowed as fast as she poured it, coughing when the burn hit her throat. She poured another and lifted it to her lips, then paused when she heard a slight creak from the other part of the house. She glanced at Flip Flop who had raised his ears, but wasn’t bothered enough to stir. She set the shot glass on the counter and walked back through the living room, glancing at the front door. It remained locked.

  Chloe decided to check on the kids anyway. She peeked into Chev’s room. He was half in and half out of his Spiderman comforter, snoring with his arms wrapped around a stuffed blue snail with sparkly eyes the size of chestnuts.

  She glanced in Shayla’s bedroom as well. Shayla was so sunk in her covers that Chloe couldn’t see the teen, but her blue hair stuck out in spikes at the top of her sheets. Chloe took this as a sign she was alive.

  Next, she tiptoed into her room. Wes slept on his back—as usual—the sheets pushed down past his bare hips, one arm stretched behind his dark hair. His chest moved up and down in a peaceful rhythm, his muscles rippling with the movement.

  Chloe suddenly wanted him more than anything. Not just his body, but his light-hearted presence, his comfort. But after spotting him with the young woman at his restaurant earlier, combined with him avoiding her since the hospital, Chloe no longer knew where they stood with each other.

  For one second, Chloe wished they could forget their arguments and differences, his betrayal and avoidance of her, and it could be like it used to be before they moved to Spindler—when they worked together raising their family, and saving up for his restaurant. Now that Wes had his restaurant, they were more distant than ever.

  Then Chloe realized she wished for the wrong thing, forgetting the past did nothing but bury the pain and the hurt. Besides, things weren’t perfect, not even back then. He had been lying to her the whole time, and so had Tanya.

  Chloe kneeled before her dresser and tugged open the bottom drawer, cringing when the drawer creaked ever so slightly. She glanced back at Wes. He whispered something, then fell back into his easy breathing. She felt around for her yoga pants and tank top, then eased the drawer back into place. She tiptoed to the bathroom to change and take her prescription. She then turned off the light and tiptoed out again, glancing at Wes once, almost hoping he was awake. He wasn’t. She made her way back to the kitchen and downed the shot of whiskey she had left on the counter. “Good ol’ Jimmy,” she murmured, before eyeballing the folded paper on the counter.

  From the dining room, Flip Flop groaned at her. Chloe interpreted the groan as go to bed already and let a dog sleep.

  “Sorry, boy.” His ears perked, then flopped back down.

  Chloe poured another shot, tucked the paper under her arm, and on second thought also snatched up the whiskey bottle, and shuffled back to the living room where she flipped on the lamp next to the couch. She sat down, folding her leg beneath her and downed the shot, this time in two swallows before unfolding the paper Diana had given her.

  Her senses dulled, Chloe shook her head and tried to focus on the words.

  In her mind, she could hear a younger Wes tease her, Lightweight.

  Chloe had never been one to hold her liquor well.

  Flip flop dredged himself up from his carpet and wandered into the living room and plunked himself at the base of the couch. He licked Chloe’s toes once, reassuringly, before nestling his giant head over her feet and falling back asleep.

  Chloe was grateful not to be alone. She reached down and patted his head, before turning her attention back to the paper.

  It indeed held a news story. Two of them in fact.

  Teen Wanted For Murder Of Killer Clown!

  SPINDLER, WA. -- Police have asked for help locating a Spindler teenager who is suspected in a double homicide.

  Joey Parker, 17, of Spindler, is now wanted on two charges of murder, according to Spindler Police.

  It is believed Parker is connected to the Friday stabbing and shooting death of 75-year-old Ionia Sevenstars. Both resided at the Misty Goose Trailer Court just outside city limits of Spindler, Wa. Sevenstars was dressed as a killer clown and is suspected of terrorizing the Misty Goose neighborhood for years according to neighbor Persula Price. Another neighbor, Shirley Pratt, stated that the old woman had been showing signs of Alzheimer’s for several months, but the family hadn’t realized how bad it was. Ionia Sevenstars leaves behind a teen daughter, Chloe Sevenstars, who has been hospitalized at Spindler General Hospital from “extreme shock” after finding the body of her mother.

  Parker is also suspected in the de
ath of his grandfather, Horace Parker, whose body was found beaten “to a bloody pulp” in the suspect’s bedroom.

  The trailer court manager’s son, autistic tween, Chris Dodd, (also dressed as a killer clown) was shot to death early Friday afternoon after he attacked police officers with an axe. Originally suspected of Sevenstars death, he was later exonerated due to lack of evidence.

  Police responded to a 911 call Saturday, at about 1:39 p.m., at the 600 block of Goose Avenue in The Misty Goose trailer court.

  "Upon arrival, officers were attacked by killer clown and autistic tween, Chris Dodd. After shooting Dodd, they heard ‘loud screams’ from inside the single-wide trailer. Inside, the responding officer observed ‘mass amounts’ of blood in the entryway. Sevenstars was found in her bedroom. She had been shot and stabbed. Her daughter, somehow escaping the killer clown with the axe, was found screaming ‘gibberish’ over her mother’s body. Killer Clown (Sevenstars) was pronounced dead at the scene," a Spindler Police spokesperson said. “Approximately one hour later, one block over on Gander Avenue, Horace Parker’s beaten body was found in the murder suspect’s bedroom.”

  Police have not yet commented on a possible motive for the double homicide.

  Persula Price, who claims to be close to both families, says, “That old woman’s daughter was always clowning around with that Joey Parker. If I had known they were all killer clowns, we would have run them out of this neighborhood years ago.”

  Sources told CPS Channel 4 crime insider, Johnathon Snodgrass, that the shooting may be the result of a killer clown cult ceremonial sacrifice gone wrong, but again police have not confirmed that information.

  Police described Parker as a white male, who stands 5'10 and weighs approximately 160 pounds. He has red hair and green eyes.

  Spindler Police Spokeswoman has said, "He is considered armed and dangerous and should not be approached. Anyone who sees him is asked to call police immediately."

  Anyone with information was asked to call

  1-800-NOKILLS

  Chloe reached for the bottle of Jim Beam and swallowed three swigs before moving on to the next shorter article.

  Killer Clown Commits Suicide!

  SPINDLER, WA. – Police have ruled out the murder of an elderly woman, Ionia Sevenstars, who was thought to be stabbed and shot in her home on the afternoon of Sept. 1, 1990.

  According to Spindler police, new forensic tests suggest the killer clown stabbed herself twice before taking her life with a pistol.

  Police are still looking for Joey Parker, 17, wanted in connection with the murder of his grandfather, Horace Parker. The teen remains at large and is considered armed and dangerous.

  Chloe held the paper in one hand, the whiskey bottle in the other, occasionally lifting it to her lips. Her eyes focused on the words, but her mind was lost at sea. The memories of her childhood, of that last summer, washed over her like waves, again and again. Their salty truths were stinging on her open wounds.

  Mama Nola… Killer Clown.

  Tears streaked down Chloe’s face. She fought the darkness that threatened to pull her under.

  Mama Nola… Become the beast!

  She tipped the whiskey bottle into her mouth and felt herself drowning in the burning liquid.

  Mama Nola… Stabbed and shot.

  The burning in her chest rose. Chloe leaped from the couch and ran for the toilet. The whiskey came up just as she lifted the toilet seat, and her stomach emptied itself.

  She dropped to the bathroom floor feeling sobs rise faster than the whiskey had, and when they came there was no way to stop them.

  Later, Chloe felt a single gentle lick on her face. She reached for Flip Flop’s neck, and the dog let her use his broad body to stand. He led her to the couch where, after finding the paper and holding it against her heart, she fell promptly asleep.

  Part IV

  Her Fear Diary

  I know who the clown with the hatchet is—was.

  I know why Mr. Jingles haunts me,

  but now my thoughts turn to you.

  I lost you in the past.

  Will I find you in the future?

  I fear the river has stolen you

  and left me behind.

  Are you alive? Wait for me.

  Are you dead? Wait for me.

  His Journal

  I feel it.

  She knows.

  She must know.

  Found this poem scribbled on a napkin and left on the bar counter years ago. After a little digging, all detective like—aka the internet—I discovered it was an old Irish poem. No one knows who wrote it, but in a way, perhaps we all have written it.

  I read it every night. The napkin is almost in shreds. I don’t have any real words of value to write tonight, but if I did, this ancient Irish poem would be it.

  I am stretched on your grave and will lie there forever.

  If your hands were in mine, I’d be sure we’d not sever.

  My apple tree, my brightness, it’s time we were together

  For I smell of the earth and I’m worn by the weather.

  When my family thinks that I am safe in my bed,

  From night until morning, I am stretched at your head

  Calling out to the earth with tears hot and wild

  My grief for the girl that I loved as a child.

  O do you remember the night we were lost

  In the shade of the blackthorn and the chill of the frost?

  O thanks be to Jesus we did what was right

  And your maidenhead still is your pillar of light.

  The priest and the friars approach me in dread

  Because I still love you, my life, and you’re dead.

  I still would be your shelter through rain and through storm

  And with you in your cold grave, I cannot keep warm.

  So I am stretched on your grave and would lie there forever

  If your hands were in mine I’d be sure we’d not sever.

  My apple tree, my brightness it’s time we were together

  For I smell of the earth and I’m worn by the weather.

  17

  The Voices in Your Head

  “HEY.”

  Chloe opened her eyes to her recently showered husband who smelled of amber and honey.

  “Shit, did you drink all of this?” He was sniffing the empty whiskey bottle as if it could tell him what she’d been up to or why. He turned on the lamp beside the couch. Chloe groaned and covered her face.

  “You did, didn’t you?”

  Chloe opened one eye and peered at him. She nodded briefly.

  He murmured something under his breath and walked away.

  Chloe felt a fresh set of tears release from her tired eyes. She heard Wes return and she quickly wiped them away. When she glanced up, he was standing there, intensely staring at her.

  “Mind if I sit down?” He held two steaming cups of coffee.

  “Sure.” His kind demeanor surprised her, and she felt another tear slip down her face as she scooted over and he sat down beside her on the couch. He made eye contact with her and smiled gently, offering the steaming mug.

  She took it, and without looking away, they both sipped their coffee at the same time.

  Wes’ hand trembled. “Hot!”

  A splash of the dark fluid landed on his clean carpenter’s pants.

  Chloe couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Damn it.” He rubbed at the stain and glanced back at Chloe. His eyes were dancing, and she realized he had spilled his coffee on purpose to make her laugh.

  That should have made her happy, but instead, she felt sad.

  He noticed the abrupt change in her mood. “What’s wrong, Chloe?”

  Wes wiped at the tear that had streaked down her cheek.

  Chloe didn’t know how to answer, so she simply said, “I know.”

  He leaned into the couch, breaking eye contact with her, but really, it was more than that. He was shutting her out again. “Tanya to
ld me.”

  “She did?” asked Chloe. Did Diana call Tanya and tell her about—

  “The past is left to the past.”

  Chloe’s mind scrambled to comprehend, then realized he was talking about giving her the meds without her knowing it. Not only that, he was scolding her like a child.

  Wes thought he knew more about her than she did, that he knew what was best for her. Had he’d always been this arrogant and she just hadn’t seen it?

  Mama Nola—Chloe knew it was her Etsi’s voice that her mind conjured—whispered, Dance!

  Wes continued, “Besides, I stopped giving them to you.”

  “When?”

  “A week ago.”

  Chloe frowned and glanced down at her lap.

  Mama Nola urged, Dance!

  Chloe covered her ears and murmured, “Shut up.” It was directed at Mama Nola’s voice, not Wes, but how could he have known that?

  “Seriously, Chloe?”

  She glanced up sharply. “Not you. I was talking to—”

  “The voices in your head.” He finished.

  “You know?” Chloe wasn’t sure if she felt more shock or relief.

  “It was a joke, Chloe, of course, I don’t think you hear voices in your head. Only crazy people do.”

  Chloe covered her hands with her eyes and sighed, feeling more alienated from him than ever. Mama Nola pressed, Dance! Dance! Dance!

  Wes said, “And I think you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and stop pulling this kind of shit.”