The Mayhem Children (A Project Specter Mystery Book 1)

by Paul Seiple

  “When can I see Ben?” Norma asked.

  “We’re trying to steady his vitals. Forgive my forwardness, but is your husband a drug addict?”

  “No.” Norma’s tone was a mixture of shock and disgust.

  “I’m sorry. He was unstable and delusional before we sedated him. He kept talking about a little girl in the attic. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what is going on with your family.”

  “Maybe there is mold in the attic. I’ll get someone to inspect it as soon as possible,” Norma said.

  The doctor glanced at Sara, who was still playing with the phone. “Your son is ready to check out, Mrs. Tate. Why don’t you take him and your lovely daughter to a nice hotel? They’ll feel more comfortable there. We will do everything we can for your husband. There’s nothing you can do here. I will call you when there is a change.”

  Norma didn’t want to leave Ben, but she knew the doctor was right. She eyed Sara, who was now shaking the phone.

  “What are you doing, honey?” Norma asked.

  “The game’s stuck.”

  Sara’s opponent played the word DEATH. The game wouldn’t let her make a move. When she tried play a word, a chat bubble popped up with, “It’s too late. Death is coming.” She tried to turn the phone off, but it locked up on the text box. When Norma drew closer, the game closed out and switched to a home screen of the Tate family at Disney World.

  “Mom, do we have to go back to that house?” Charlie asked, unwrapping a fast food burger.

  “That house is our home now,” Norma said. Her tone was defiant. She wasn’t taking her family to a hotel. She was going home and whatever was waiting there for her would learn the house belonged to the Tates.

  “But there is something bad there,” Charlie said.

  “We just have to make it feel like home, “ Norma said.

  “I saw Sara’s friend,” Charlie said.

  “She’s not my friend,” Sara said.

  “She told me that we were all going to die,” Charlie said.

  Norma pulled the car into a shopping center parking lot and turned to the back seat. “You saw an actual person?”

  “Yes. A little girl, about Sara’s height. She came up to me while the police were talking to Dad.”

  “She’s real,” Sara said. “She hurt Charlie, and she hurt Dad. I asked her not to, but she’s mean.”

  “Do you think you can get her to talk to me?” Norma asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sara said. “She disappeared today when you came downstairs.”

  “After your dad fell?” Norma asked.

  “Yes. She’s mad at me because I didn’t keep her a secret,” Sara said.

  Norma unlocked the door. Sara and Charlie stood on the front porch. Charlie walked to the edge and called out Rocky, their German Shepherd. The dog came running through a patch of weeds.

  “Sara, can you help me try to find the girl?” Norma asked, holding the door open.

  Charlie ran out onto the front yard to meet Rocky.

  “OK, but I can’t promise she will come out,” Sara said.

  Norma dropped her pocketbook and keys onto a stack of cardboard boxes labeled FRAGILE, next to the door.

  “OK, how do you get her to come to you?” Norma asked.

  “She just does,” Sara said.

  Norma sat on the couch and patted an empty spot next to her. “Let’s sit and wait.”

  After about ten minutes, Sara broke the silence. “She’s not going to show herself.”

  “Sara, are you really sure you saw someone?” Norma stood up to walk to the kitchen.

  A whisper tickled Sara’s ear. “I can’t believe you tattled me out to your mom.”

  Sara swatted at her ear. “She’s here, Mom. She’s here.”

  Norma turned to see Sara brushing the hair away from her ear. “Where?”

  A blur over Norma’s shoulder caught Sara’s eye. Jessica Challis stood behind Norma and placed a finger over her lips. She opened her mouth enough to allow a forked tongue to wrap around the finger like vines.

  “Behind you, Mom,” Sara said.

  Norma spun around. There was no one there.

  Jessica whispered in Sara’s ear again. “You’re a fucking brat.”

  “I don’t see anything, Sara,” Norma said.

  “She’s not going to let you see her,” Sara said.

  “I see. I guess your little friend is nothing more than a coward,” Norma said.

  Jessica whispered into Sara’s ear. “She really shouldn’t have said that.”

  After dinner, Norma washed dishes while the kids played with Rocky in the living room. She placed a dish in the drying rack and turned to grab another, when there was a loud crash. The dish lay shattered on the floor.

  “What else can go wrong?” Norma grabbed the broom and started to sweep the broken plate into a pile, when she heard a faint cry. “Everything all right in there?”

  “Yep,” Charlie said.

  Norma went back to sweeping and heard the cry again. It was louder. Norma knew this didn’t come from her children. She walked to the back door and put her ear against the glass. A sudden rush of cold air covered the window, sending a shock to Norma. She fell back, landing on her butt. Throbbing in her foot reminded Norma of the twisted ankle. She massaged the top of her foot. Fog appeared on the glass pane. In the center was an imprint of a pair of lips.

  “What the hell?” Norma got to her feet and walked back to the door. The lips disappeared when she got within inches of them. But the crying started again.

  “Why don’t you show yourself, you coward?”

  The crying turned to a child’s giggle. Small footprints appeared all over the kitchen floor. Muddy prints of bare feet. As soon as one formed, the previous one disappeared. The footprints went up the walls and over the ceiling.

  Norma watched in disbelief as another dish lifted from the drying rack and crashed onto the floor. She grabbed the broom and swatted in the direction of the sink. More laughter. More footprints.

  As fast as the chaos began, it silenced. The only remnants of what happened were the broken plates on the floor. Norma rushed out of the kitchen and by the children to her pocketbook.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” Charlie asked, holding a toy soccer ball as Rocky tried to steal it from him.

  “You saw her, didn’t you?” Sara asked.

  “Don’t go in the kitchen. I dropped a dish.” Norma grabbed the business card that Kim Strode gave her and dialed Kim’s cell number. The call went straight to voicemail.

  Thirteen

  “We’ve been sitting here for four hours,” Kim said, tapping the face of her watch. “I have to get Dad his dinner. Can I at least get my phone back?”

  “Judith said she’s on her way. She had a late case this afternoon,” Chief Brackett said. “I’d give you your phone back, but you know what happened after Alvarez was in that accident. The media got to him and twisted his words. It’s better this way.”

  “It was a justified shooting, Chief,” Terrence said. “I don’t know why we have to talk to Reynolds.”

  “I’m not doubting that it was justified, Simms. But you have to admit, this is a sticky situation. The woman was seventy-three. Judith just wants to get the facts before the media gets ahold of it.”

  Kim walked to the window in Chief Brackett’s office. She eyed the parking lot, hoping to see Judith Reynolds pull up. But instead, she caught a flash of what she thought was a child playing behind an oak tree. She watched, but the child never appeared again.

  “She was going to kill Terrence. I had no choice but to shoot her,” Kim said, taking a seat next to Terrence.

  Before Chief Brackett could answer, there was a knock at the door. Judith Reynolds stuck her in the room.

  “Sorry, I am a little late,” Judith said.

  “It’s OK. We’ve got nothing else to do,” Terrence said.

  The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Judith. “I’d tread lightly, Detective Simms. Need
I remind you while we are all here?” She looked at her watch. “At dinner time.”

  Terrence rolled his eyes and sat back on the couch.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Kim said. “I need to get dinner for my dad.”

  Judith turned to Chief Brackett. “Can you give us a few minutes?”

  “If my officers want me to stay...”

  “It’s OK, Chief,” Kim said.

  Judith waited for Brackett to leave. She sat down on the corner of his desk and pulled a report from her briefcase. “Just what in the hell were you two doing at Mary English’s house?” She flipped the paper over before tossing it onto the desk. “There were no calls in that area today.”

  Terrence looked at Kim for an answer.

  “Well?” Judith tapped the back of her heel against Chief Brackett’s desk.

  “I know there is no way you’re going to believe this, but something is happening that I can’t explain,” Kim said.

  “Try me,” Judith said.

  “Tommy Lloyd. Luke Barton. Mary English. They are all tied to The Silent Six case.”

  Judith chuckled. “You’re telling me you went to Mary English’s house on a hunch about a forty-year-old case and ended up shooting a seventy-three-year-old woman?”

  “She wasn’t a seventy-three-year-old woman when she attacked me,” Terrence said.

  Judith laughed louder. “Detective Simms, you want me to believe an old woman made you fear for your life? You’re what? Six-feet-three, maybe two-fifteen?”

  “She shot at Terrence several times before I was able to subdue the situation,” Kim said.

  “I understand that, Detective Strode. But correct me if I’m wrong, she was unarmed when you shot her, correct?”

  “Listen, Judith, Kim saved my life. I don’t know what your angle is here, but it was a justified shoot,” Terrence said.

  “My angle, Detective Simms? In case you have forgotten, I am the District Attorney. My angle is to ensure that justice is served. And pretty soon I am going to be bombarded by the media as to why a cop shot a frail old woman.”

  “It was as if she was possessed,” Kim said. Her words, barely above a whisper, lacked confidence.

  “Come again,” Judith said

  “Her voice wasn’t that of an old woman. Neither was her strength. I distracted her as she was trying to shoot Terrence. She turned the gun on me. Terrence tackled her, but she tossed him away like a wet towel,” Kim said.

  Judith expression wavered between amusement and bewilderment.

  “It’s true,” Terrence said. “In all my years of football, I was never tossed like that.”

  Judith let out a deep exhale.

  “There is something going on with families of The Silent Six,” Kim said.

  “This isn’t the movies, detective. There is no such thing as the supernatural. There has to be an explanation as to why the woman acted like she did. That’s for the doctors to determine. The hard part is explaining why you were there in the first place,” Judith said.

  “And what about Lloyd? Barton?” Kim asked.

  “Tommy Lloyd suffered from PTSD. And Luke Barton was partying with his friends before he drowned. I’m sure he had a few drinks. I see the coincidence. But it’s just that. These tragedies have nothing to do with a forty-year-old case. And much less to do with the supernatural,” Judith said.

  “You’d have a different story if you had seen Mary English,” Terrence said.

  “Maybe we should call in the Ghostbusters then.” Judith laughed. “Listen, this is a very unfortunate event...and in your eyes, it seems justified. It very well may be, but I am going to recommend to Chief Brackett that you take a vacation.” She nodded at Kim. “A long one.”

  “That’s BS, and you know it,” Terrence said.

  “And you’re going to join her, Detective Simms. There have been seven suspicious deaths in the last three days. A fresh set of eyes,” Judith raised her eyebrows, “not tainted by delusions of the supernatural, is what’s needed to stop more deaths.”

  Terrence opened his mouth to speak, but Kim tapped his knee.

  “You’re right,” Kim said. “Putting someone else on this is the best thing.”

  Judith pursed her lips. “I’m pleasantly surprised that you agree with me, detective. Now, take some time away, and let me sort this Mary English thing out. It will all be over in a few weeks.”

  “But...” Terrence shut up when Kim squeezed his knee.

  “Can I go now?” Kim asked. “I need to get food for my dad.”

  Judith looked at her watch. “Go.”

  Kim grabbed Terrence by the elbow and led him to the door.

  “How is your father, detective? He was such a great cop,” Judith said.

  “Hungry,” Kim said, pushing Terrence into the hall.

  “What the hell was that?” Terrence said.

  Kim glanced at her watch. “Shit, it’s after seven. Dad’s probably burned the house down by now.”

  She ran to her desk, grabbed her car keys and phone. She opened a drawer and tossed her badge inside. Terrence grabbed her shoulder.

  “Kim, why were you so easy to agree with Reynolds?”

  A slight smile came over Kim’s face. “If we don’t have these,” she pointed to her badge, “we don’t have to be cops.” She nodded for Terrence to drop his badge in the drawer.

  Terrence sighed and flipped his badge on top of hers.

  “Feel like eating? I may need back up dealing with Dad.”

  Sam Strode sat in his recliner, taking slow, deep breaths. Six of them, to be exact. This seemed to always work when the chest pain came. After a few minutes of closing his eyes and slowing his breathing, the stabbing subsided. This time, it was different; it was stubborn, more deliberate, as if it was trying to tell him at any minute “I can end you.”

  “Leave me alone,” Sam said, wincing and clutching his chest. “I know it’s you, Joey Carpenter. I can’t see you, but I feel you.”

  Gooseflesh spread over Sam’s skin like roaches scattering in the light. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees. Sam’s old bones didn’t handle the cold well. His bad knee throbbed, sending pain down his shin, to his toes. He tried to stand, but the burning felt as though a war raged within his joints. Sam fell back onto the recliner.

  “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with. I’ve got things to do.”

  A sudden burst of deeper pain clenched his heart, stealing his breath. And then it was gone. His knee no longer throbbed. The gooseflesh faded, and the room felt a comfortable seventy-two degrees.

  “One of these days, you little son-of-a-bitch, you’re going to get what’s coming to you,” Sam said, repeating the series of deep breaths.

  “Was that Dad?” Kim asked, unlocking the door.

  She handed the bag of take-out to Terrence and ran in the house. Sam was sitting in his recliner, rubbing his chest.

  “Dad? Are you OK?”

  Sam cleared his throat. “No, I’m not OK. I’m this close,” he held up his hand, his index finger and thumb less than an inch apart, “to starving.”

  “Who were you talking to?” Kim asked.

  Sam stammered. “I was screaming at the ballgame. That damn Hunter couldn’t strike out a man with no arms.”

  “But the television isn’t on.”

  “I know, honey. I cut it off when I heard you come in. What’s with the interrogation? Did I rob a bank? If so, I don’t remember.” Sam pointed to his head.

  Terrence stood in the doorway. Guilt tugged at him for not telling Kim that Sam claimed to see the Carpenter boy.

  “Kim, can you help me in the kitchen? Where are the bowls?” Terrence asked.

  “Terrence!” Sam said. “Staying for dinner?”

  “It’s Italian. You know I am,” Terrence said.

  “Hang tight for a few minutes, Dad.” Kim followed Terrence into the kitchen. “Bowls are in the cabinet above the silverware. But you already knew that. So what’s up?”r />
  Terrence placed three bowls on the kitchen table. “I should have told you this earlier, but I don’t really trust McDowell.” He hesitated.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t think your dad was talking to the television.”

  “No shit, there isn’t an Orioles game on tonight,” Kim said.

  “I think he was talking to Joey Carpenter.”

  Kim stopped putting the take-out on the table. “Why do you say that?”

  “Last night, when he couldn’t find his journal, he blamed it on Carpenter. I think he’s afraid to tell you he sees the boy.”

  Kim tapped her blazer, feeling for the journal in the inside pocket. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was going to, but the incident with Mary English…I forgot.”

  “All right, here’s what we are going to do… finish setting the table. I’ll get Dad in here, and then slip away to put this back.” She held up the journal. “After dinner, I need you to get him to talk about Carpenter again.”

  Terrence nodded.

  Sam interrupted. “What the hell are you doing in here? Cooking it? I’m hungry.”

  Terrence pulled out a chair. “Have a seat, Sam. It’s just about ready.”

  “Dad, I’m going to change real quick before dinner,” Kim said.

  When Kim returned to the kitchen, Sam was sharing a high school baseball story with Terrence as he ate lasagna. She grabbed a glass and got water from the refrigerator.

  “It was the bottom of the ninth. We were down two runs, had two on, and I was up to bat...” Sam went silent and stared at an empty chair.

  “Then what?” Terrence asked.

  Sam didn’t answer.

  “Sam?”

  Kim turned around and dropped the glass, shattering it on the floor. Terrence jumped to his feet to help her. Sam didn’t move.

  “Did you cut yourself?” Terrence asked.

  Kim didn’t answer. She just stared at the same chair that had Sam mesmerized.