Mind Fray

by Alexie Aaron

  Mind Fray

  A Haunted Series Novel by

  Alexie Aaron

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ~

  Bought by Maraya21

  kickass.so / 1337x.to / h33t.to / thepiratebay.se

  Copyright 2014 – Diane L. Fitch writing as Alexie Aaron

  ALSO BY ALEXIE AARON

  HAUNTED SERIES

  in order

  The Hauntings of Cold Creek Hollow

  Ghostly Attachments

  Sand Trap

  Darker than Dark

  The Garden

  Puzzle

  Old Bones

  Things that Go Bump in the Night

  Something Old

  The Middle House: Return to Cold Creek Hollow

  Renovation

  Mind Fray

  PEEPS LITE

  Eternal Maze 3.1

  Homecoming 3.2

  Checking Out 9.1

  Ice and Steel 9.2

  CIN FIN-LATHEN MYSTERIES

  Decomposing

  Death by Saxophone

  Discord

  I dedicate this book to my son who started all of this.

  He said, write something different, which is at times a challenge but always a joy.

  I would like to thank my readers who inspire me and remind me that they are (cough cough) patiently waiting for the next book when I’ve just finished launching the last one. I also would like to thank my editor and beta reader. They sweat over my errors while encouraging me to continue on with my creative pursuits. Without them, I would be lost.

  Table of Contents

  Scratch Scratch

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Alexie Aaron

  Scratch Scratch

  The scratching started on the door. Kim rolled over and nudged her husband. “Honey, it’s the cat again,” she said, waking him from a sound sleep. “Your cat, your turn.”

  Max Madison pushed the covers off of him, and in a passive aggressive move, he deliberately piled them on Kim. He could have just told her that when they married, the cat became hers too. Although, the aggressive actions of Peachy towards Kim would not hold up to scrutiny. He didn’t know why Peachy hated Kim, but she did. First, it was the hairball barf in her Jimmy Choos, followed by shredding the edges of her clothes hanging in the closet. The latter, added to this midnight door scratching, would send Peachy to the vet to have her front claws removed. Max didn’t approve of this. He felt a cat needed to be able to defend itself.

  “From what?” Kim had asked. “Dust bunnies and laser dots?”

  The scratching became more insistent.

  “Peachy, stop that or you’ll have to spend the night in the kitchen,” he threatened as he turned the doorknob.

  The door swung easily inwards, and Max was surprised to find the doorway empty. No Peachy. He looked down the hall, trying to make out if there was a solid lump of feline in the dark corridor. “Peachy,” he hissed. “Come here. If you’re coming in, now’s the time.” There was no answer from the cat. “Okay, stay out there,” he said and closed the door. He padded back into bed and tugged on the blankets, now held in viselike grip of his young wife. He pried her sleeping fingers away and managed to cover half his body when the scratching started again. “For pity’s sake!” he exclaimed, waking Kim in the process.

  He lunged out of the bed and pulled the door open sharply. Nothing. He bounded down the hall, turning on the lights as he entered each room. He searched for the naughty feline but didn’t find her in her usual haunts. In the guestroom he spotted a lump under the coverlet on the bed. “There you are.” He reached under and pulled what seemed to be a sleepy cat out of from under the blankets. Peachy acted surprised by the intrusion.

  Kim winced as she turned over. The light from the hall pierced into her sleep-deprived head. She pushed off the covers and walked into the master bathroom, her eyes on the far wall, avoiding the mirror, as she made her way to the toilet. Kim was terrified of seeing things in the large mirror over the double sinks at night. It was a fear she had carried with her from childhood. It started with that other mirror, the one in the shared family bathroom, the one which reflected the window on the opposite wall. Or, rather, it was the reflection of the peeping Tom gazing in that terrified her. The depravity on the man’s face had haunted her since that fateful night. From that moment on, Kim would not look at a mirror or an undraped window at night. She insisted that drapes and blinds all be closed after the sun went down.

  It was a quirk that she was working on with Dr. Henley, but that single fright from her childhood was a beast to deal with. The sight of the bespectacled man staring in from the window had resulted in her screaming. The screams brought her father who recognized the neighbor and went after him with a shotgun . No one was killed, but her father and the pervert spent the night in a holding cell in the town’s jail, glaring at each other. She never got over the guilt or the fright.

  She flushed the toilet and waited, listening to the tank fill. All too often the toilet chose to continue to run, and this meant getting out of the comfy bed and returning to the bathroom, past the mirror, to shake the handle. Kim had disciplined herself to wait for the water to shut off before making her way to the sink. With her eyes closed, she washed her hands, and then with her eyes trained on the floor, she made her way out of the bathroom.

  Tonight, the bedroom was chilly. A cold draft seemed to be coming from the hall. She and Max had decided to forgo putting on the heat until they were well out of the Indian summer in order to save on the utility bills. Instead, they piled on blankets and comforters according to the drop in mercury. She jumped into bed and smoothed the covers around her before turning on her left side and falling asleep.

  Peachy wasn’t feeling peachy at the moment. She twisted her body and sank her teeth into Max’s hand. “Shit!” he cursed, dropping the cat who landed on her feet and took off running out of the guestroom. Max stumbled into the kitchen, holding his injured hand in front of him as if a cherry bomb had exploded in it. The pain wasn’t as bad as the feeling of betrayal he had from his beloved pet sinking her teeth into him. He needed to wash it, and a little Neosporin wouldn’t hurt. The Madisons kept the first aid kit in the kitchen cupboard next to the coffee grinder. He turned on the lights and saw the quick shadow dart out the other door as he stepped in. “Go on and run, Judas,” he hissed. “See who comes to your defense next time you crap on the welcome mat.”

  Kim felt Peachy’s cold nose on her calf as the cat inched her way up from the bottom of the bed. Max must have brought her in with him. Kim was tired; the subject of Peachy and her sleeping arrangements would have to wait until the morning. She opened her eyes and squinted in the direct
ion of the alarm clock. Was it really one thirty? She reached for her glasses and dropped them as red eyes stared back at her through the lenses. She blinked several times, reasoning that what she had seen had to be the reflection of the red digital numbers of the alarm clock in the lenses. Either that or her glasses had a pair of red irises in them. She laughed, leaned over and reached for them on the floor. Her fingertips brushed the plastic frames on the first pass. She fumbled back and grabbed them. She jammed them on her face and looked at the clock. The red display read one thirty-two.

  “Damn, I’ve got an early morning,” she said to the lump in the middle of the bed.

  Peachy didn’t answer nor did Max whose weight she felt press down on the mattress, pinning the covers to her. She felt as if she were in a straitjacket. She turned around to shake Max to get him to move.

  It wasn’t Max who lay next to her. Instead, it was the peeping Tom who winked at her with red eyes from behind clouded lenses. “So nice to see you again, Kimmy,” he said.

  Kim screamed as she reeled backward, tearing at the covers, trying to free herself. She lunged to the side, and the covers lost their hold, sending her tumbling out of the bed, clearing the contents of the bedside table as she plummeted. Kim landed hard, but her fear kept her moving. She got up, and with the wall at her back, moved around the bed looking for her phone. She scanned the floor and found it where it had landed, just under the bed. This phone was no longer an option because Kim wasn’t going anywhere near the bed. She would have to get to the house phone to call 911.

  The bed vibrated, and the covers moved down the mattress as if they were a sliding door. They pooled at the end of the bed before revealing the four-eyed man lying there. He grinned up at her. “Come on, Kimmie, aren’t you glad to see old Peter?” he asked, looking hurt.

  Kim screamed again and again. She ran towards the hall door. It slammed shut in front of her. She screamed again.

  Max heard Kim screaming. He dropped the tube of antiseptic on the counter and took off running towards the bedroom of their ranch home. The lights in the hall were flashing, creating a strobing effect. He could have sworn the hallway was moving away from him as if he were stuck in a nightmare. Determined, he dug in his feet and ran with all his might. He seemed to break free of whatever had a hold of him. His body shot forward, and he crashed into the linen closet at the end of the hall.

  The door of the linen cupboard sagged open, and Max extracted himself quickly from the broken slats. He reached for the bedroom doorknob and tried to turn it. The door was locked. He banged on it. “Unlock the door, Kim. I can’t get in!”

  Kim pulled on the door and turned the lock left and right. It still refused to open. She heard the creak of springs and looked over her shoulder. The man was rising from the bed. Kim pushed away from the door and ran into the bath, turning on the lights as she shut the door behind her, locking it. She tripped on something furry on the floor that let out a growl. “Peachy, oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she said, picking up the cat to examine it. The feline dug its claws into Kim for a moment before it settled down. “We’ve got to find a place to hide,” she said, turning off the light.

  Max felt over the doorframe and came up with the universal key. He jammed it into the doorknob and sighed with relief as the lock disengaged. He opened the door to find the room empty. The covers were off the bed, and the contents of Kim’s bedside table were scattered on the floor.

  “Kim!” he called. He walked towards the walk-in closet and pulled open the doors. “You’re scaring me,” he said as he pushed aside the clothes searching for her. He heard the water running in the bathtub. Max walked over and tried to pull open the door. It was locked. Max pushed in the key he still held and opened the door. Inside the air was freezing. A fog rose from the tub as the steam from the running hot water reached the frigid air. A sharp click heralded the burst of water that shot from the shower head, its water adding to the dense steam in the room.

  Max felt his way towards the tub, pushed the shower curtain aside and turned off the water. The shower stopped, and he heard the hot water start to drain. He leaned back and fumbled for the light, succeeding in turning it on. He looked down in the tub expecting to see Kim crouched there. It was empty. The water swirled as it emptied. The drain let out a sigh.

  The shower curtain rings scraped along the rod. Max spied a shadow standing behind the drapery. He took hold of the curtain and pushed it further back along the rod, exposing more of the tub.

  “Kim, you scared the crap out of me…” he stopped. It wasn’t Kim standing in the corner of the bathtub. “Who the hell are you!” he asked the man who stood bone-dry, staring at him with his one unpatched eye. Max armed himself with a back brush and waved it at the man. “Get out of my house!” he ordered.

  “That ain’t neighborly of you,” the man growled, his solo eye turning red. He raised a long knife.

  Max waved the brush wildly; as he did, it got snagged in the shower curtain. He pulled back hard, and both the curtain and rod came crashing down on the glass shelving beside the bathtub. The contents of the broken shelves fell down, glass containers bursting as they hit the tub’s marble slab. Colorful sea salt crystals spilled out of the broken jars and rained down into the tub.

  The man screamed and disappeared.

  The air warmed. Max dropped the brush and looked around. The four piece bathroom was a disaster. Glass and salt were everywhere, and there was a gaping hole where the rod had once been attached to the wall.

  “Kim!” he said, ripping the shower curtain off the floor. He searched the floor, the tub, and the toilet alcove. No Kim. He turned to leave the bath and stumbled on a stack of towels that lay on the floor between the his-and-hers sinks. “That’s not where they go,” he realized.

  Max dropped to his knees and opened the cupboard doors. Jammed against the wall, making her five foot eight inch frame as small as it could get, was Kim. She had her head bent uncomfortably in the far corner. She held Peachy tight to her chest. Peachy looked up at him and meowed. He reached in to take the cat from his silent wife. The cat refused to leave. Max pulled the tear and snot-stained glasses off his wife’s face. “Kim, everything is going to be alright. The man is gone. Come on out. Hand me Peachy…”

  Kim mechanically moved her hands apart, and the cat reluctantly left them. Max took the cat out of the glass-strewn bathroom and locked her in the guest bedroom before he returned to extract his wife from her hiding space.

  “Come on, Kim, help me out,” he coaxed.

  Kim just sniffed and wrapped her arms around herself.

  Max stood up and kicked until he had broken all the lumber that had jailed his wife. He pried away the wood supports until he could get his arms around Kim. He pulled her unresponsive body out from under the sink, being careful not to bump her head on the way out. He carried her to their bed and stopped. Looking at the state of things, he decided not to put her down there. “We’ll go and keep Peachy company,” he said softly. He hefted her over his shoulder and carried her fireman style to the guest bedroom.

  Peachy mewed as he opened the door, jumped up on the bed and strode purposely around on the bedding as if she were showing him where to lay Kim. He set her down and pulled the covers over her shaking body. Peachy curled up on Kim’s chest.

  Max watched his wife slowly raise a hand and began to pet the cat. Peachy purred.

  There was a scratching on the door.

  Kim said hoarsely, “Don’t answer it.”

  Chapter One

  Mia stepped out of the shower. She took time to scrutinize her frame. There it was, the mystical baby bump which had been so fashionable in the land of celebrity. Mia turned to take on the full profile and laughed. “Hello, gorgeous,” she said, doing justice to Barbara Streisand’s Fanny Brice in Funny Girl.

  She wrapped the soft terry cloth towel around her and padded across the heated tile floor. “God bless you, Cid,” she said, looking around their new master bathroom. The two-story additio
n was still in the process of being finished, but Ted insisted that the upstairs bath have priority. He didn’t much like playing accordion with his six foot and change frame in the tiny guest bathroom’s shower. Mia didn’t mind. Her petite figure was at home in most space-deprived situations. But having another working toilet, now that was priceless. She figured she spent more time hovering over the porcelain bowl than she did sleeping.

  Everyone warned her about morning sickness. They didn’t mention afternoon sickness, evening sickness, too much butter on the popcorn sickness, everything smelled bad sickness, and just being sick. “Green is the new tan,” Ted assured her as he tried to comfort her. He even put his picture up on the dartboard in the barn, so Mia could take out some much needed aggression on the man who put her in perpetual pukesville. Mia tried to assure her husband that she wasn’t put out by his abundant energy, good mood and ability to drink as much coffee as he wanted, but she was getting good at darts.

  Dressing hadn’t become a problem yet. The abundance of PEEPs sweats and tees helped. Today she had on a pair of Ted’s batman pajamas, rolled up at the legs, topped with a Chicago Bears jersey. Even Mia had to admit she needed to find something classier to wear. Ralph, her over-indulgent pseudo-godfather, had lectured her on looking her best, especially now her girth was showing. Presently, he was busy with planning his wedding to Bernard and didn’t have time to drag her up and down Michigan Avenue or over to Oakbrook Mall. But he did have lightning reflexes when it came to online shopping. All he asked for was weekly updates on the ever expanding Mia. Ted was forever chasing her with a tape measure.

  The problem with Ralph’s choices was that they were fine for the urban social functions of Chicago, but going to the Ace Hardware in a tangerine linen sheath dress was just plain dumb.