Slaughter Series

by A. I. Nasser

  “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” June said. “Remember last year? You couldn’t drive by that house without smelling the rot.”

  “That’s just it, there ain’t nothing rotten there,” Hank said. “The basement’s clean. Couldn’t tell what was causin’ the smell.”

  “Insulation?”

  Hank nodded. “Told him to get rid of it. Dunno if he’s gonna do it.”

  “It would be a waste of money if he did,” June said, looking out the window as they made their way out of the town center and onto the road towards her house.

  “Told him to sell it to the Greens, said he didn’t know who owned it,” Hank said.

  June nodded thoughtfully. “Don’t worry yourself about that. They’ll badger him about it soon enough.”

  “I guess they’ve already started,” Hank smiled. “Saw Miss Eva there when I was leavin’. Seemed like they’ve run into each other before.”

  June stared hard at Hank, and he frowned in confusion when he saw the look she gave him.

  “What?”

  “Don’t you go spreading rumors, Hank Pollard,” June warned. “That’s a married man, there. Don’t go talking about things you’re not sure of.”

  “I ain’t sayin’ anythin’, June,” Hank said. “Just said I saw her there.”

  “That’s already saying too much,” June berated. “You know David Green as much as anyone else in town. You know what he would do if he thought for a second something was going on between his daughter and John.”

  “Fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Hank said. “I only told you anyway.”

  “Let’s keep it at that, right?”

  Hank nodded, and they both fell silent for the rest of the drive.

  ***

  John felt like a million dollars when he woke up.

  There was no guilt this time, only a deep satisfaction that had lingered since the night before. He had stayed awake this time as Eva got dressed and left. Standing at his bedroom window, shades slightly drawn, invisible in the darkness, he had watched her race back to her house and sneak in through the back. He had lain in bed for a good ten minutes with a smile on his face before falling asleep peacefully.

  Whistling to himself, he danced a little as he waited for the water to boil, completely forgetting about the smell coming from the basement, his mind free and rested. He had checked on his writing, happy with the progress he had made so far, and questioned whether or not to send what he had to Derrick.

  Derrick could wait. Right now we’re celebrating!

  “That we are, my friend,” John sang. “That we are!”

  He filled his mug with coffee, lighting a cigarette as he moved to the music in his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this good, this alive, and he was going to cherish the moment as much as possible.

  You never know how long the good times last, right, Johnny-boy?

  John Krik couldn’t agree more.

  He took his coffee and made his way upstairs, his cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth as ash dropped onto the hardwood floor. He was anticipating the next bout of writing, the next roll. He was really feeling how his story was coming together, the plot intertwining within itself to form a web of events that he knew would look absolutely beautiful when it was done. He felt like an artist, painting a canvas in what seemed to be random lines, and only he knew what the final image would look like.

  His next bestseller was going to be massive.

  John set his mug down and opened his laptop, slumping into his chair and readying himself for the rush.

  Let’s get to work, Johnny-boy.

  “Yes, please,” John said out loud, putting out his cigarette and immediately lighting another one.

  He was about to start when he was stopped by knocking at the door. Frowning, he tried to remember if he should have been expecting someone. Had he called Grace or Hank? He clearly remembered postponing the exterminators for a few more days, feeling no rush to solve either the problem in the basement or the nest of rats upstairs.

  Ignore it.

  The knocking came again, and this time John decided not to listen to the voice in his head. He made his way downstairs, pulling on a shirt as he quickly put out his cigarette. When he opened the door, his heart stopped.

  “Surprise!”

  Karen threw her hands up in the air, her smile wide as she posed in front of her husband. She was wearing her travel pants, and two suitcases stood idly at her side.

  “Karen?”

  “Wow, John, don’t be so happy to see me,” she rolled her eyes.

  John smiled and reached out for his wife, taking her into his arms and hugging her tight.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just that this is completely unexpected,” he said, kissing her.

  “Hence, surprise,” she said.

  John held her at arm’s length and looked at her, taking her all in, unable to believe she was actually there. “What are you doing here?”

  “For starters,” she said, “waiting to come in.”

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” John said, pulling her inside before grabbing her bags.

  He watched his wife’s eyes grow wide as she took in the interior of the house, obviously impressed.

  “Why the hell were you upset?” she asked. “This place is beautiful!”

  “You should have been here when I first walked in,” John smiled. “You wouldn’t be saying that.”

  What the hell are you doing? Why is she here?

  John quickly shook his head and wrapped his arm around Karen’s waist as he walked her into the living room. She was clearly in love, and he found her admiration amusing.

  “Where did Derrick find this place?” she asked.

  Get her out of here!

  “So, are you here for the weekend?” John asked, ignoring the demands of his subconscious.

  “Actually, longer,” Karen said, slumping down onto the couch and throwing her legs up as she admired the fabric. “Took two weeks off work.”

  “What about Dylan?”

  “With Jody,” Karen replied. “You know she’s been begging me to let him stay with her for a while.”

  John smiled as he sat down on the chair opposite her. “I’m flattered, but why take time off? You can’t possibly miss me that much.”

  Karen looked at him for a minute too long, enough for John to know that something was wrong.

  “Derrick called,” she said. “He sent me your manuscript. At first, I was surprised you hadn’t sent it to me first. After I read it, I kind of understood why.”

  John nodded, already knowing what she was going to say. Karen was never a fan of the grotesque. “Are you here to bring me back to the rainbows and butterflies?” he asked with a grin.

  Karen smiled and shook her head. “I’m here to make sure the darkness doesn’t tempt you with cookies.”

  She’s going to ruin everything! What if she finds out about Eva?

  John smiled at his wife.

  For now, he would have to make the best of it.

  Chapter 11

  John woke up to the sweet smell of fresh coffee and bacon.

  Stretching beneath the sheets, he opened his eyes slowly, letting the room swim into focus as he yawned loud enough to let Karen know he was awake. It was a little game between the two of them, and since she had come, he had quickly fallen back into his old habits.

  Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he waited for his mind to clear, and he slowly made his way to the bathroom. The lights didn’t flicker when he turned them on, and the water flowed as clear as crystal out of the faucet.

  Things had changed for the better since Karen had arrived.

  It had been a little awkward at first, both he and the house getting used to the fact that a woman had taken over and was bombarding them with her feminine touch. The color of the furniture seemed brighter, the electricity was stable and the lights stopped blowing out, and for the past week the smell from the basement had disappe
ared completely.

  John remembered the first time he had walked into the kitchen, the day after she had arrived, and noticed that the towels he had put under the door to ward off the smell were gone.

  “Why did you have towels there?” she had asked, clad in an oversized t-shirt while scrubbing away at the refrigerator.

  “There was a smell coming up from the basement,” he had said matter-of-factly, confused as to why the stench had not stunk up the house already.

  “What smell?”

  She had actually gone down to the basement, fiddled with the boiler to stop the brown water from ever returning, and had aired out the humidity. He had been impressed, and a part of him was curious as to why she had succeeded where he had failed miserably. But he had quickly shrugged it away, happy that he did not have to breathe through his mouth every time he had to go into the kitchen.

  Karen had quickly turned the whole place around, and the house finally felt like people actually lived in it. It was beyond him how her presence was enough to bring a different light to the place, but it pleased him, and he had quickly forgotten his initial reservations about her being there. Even Eva Green had disappeared completely, saving him the awkward need to introduce his wife to the girl he had cheated on her with. Twice.

  The rest of his few acquaintances were a different story.

  June Summers had fallen in love with Karen the minute she had laid eyes on her, both women hitting it off immediately when John took his wife to the market to stock up. June was quick to praise him in front of Karen, and his wife was quick to warn her that he was a charmer and wordsmith. Needless to say, John hadn’t needed to drive Karen into town any longer; she had quickly made herself at home.

  That was the thing about Karen; she got along with everyone. Even when Gina Andrews had come to help with another round of cleaning, the old woman hadn’t seemed to mind Karen at all. She hadn’t said more than a few words to John, but she had talked her heart out while working side by side with his wife. He had begun to wonder why he had agreed to come out here alone in the first place.

  John reached for the towel by the sink, dried his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked better, less disheveled, more himself. He had begun sporting the beginnings of a beard, something he had never done before despite Karen’s undying attempts to coax him into it.

  His writing was taking a good hit, though, the past week giving him nothing more than a few thousand words, much less than he had written when he had been alone. When Derrick called, John had assured him that it was just a dip, but the story was still coming, albeit slower. His editor hadn’t seemed too upset, though, discussing John’s overall well-being more than he did his writing.

  It freaked him out. Derrick had never cared about that before.

  “Morning, cupcake,” he whistled as he made his way into the kitchen, hugging Karen from behind as she scrambled eggs. He gave her a quick kiss on the neck, forcing her to giggle when his beard tickled her, and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “That’s going to ruin your appetite,” Karen said, moving the pan off the fire and onto a cooler eye.

  “I’m famished, baby,” John chuckled. “Believe me, nothing’s going to ruin my appetite.”

  “Well, get some food in you and get to work,” she said, winking at him. “My man needs to make us some money.”

  John smiled as he sat at the kitchen bar, nestling his coffee between his hands as he stared out the kitchen window at the yard beyond. The sun was piercing through, illuminating the kitchen fully and flushing out the off-white coloring of the cabinets and tiles. He hadn’t noticed their color before, couldn’t even remember if he had registered it at all when he had first arrived. Then again, it hadn’t always been this bright outside.

  He sipped his brew as he watched his wife work, his eyes running over the curves hidden by the t-shirt, her ash-brown hair tied back in a high ponytail. She looked at least a decade younger than she actually was, which made him feel like an old fart next to her. He was more than aware of the wrinkles on his skin from the cigarettes and coffee, which was probably why Eva had been such a temptation. No one except for Karen had ever looked at him the way she did, and John began to wonder how sick he had to be to instantly fall for that.

  “Did you call Dylan?” he asked, forcing the thoughts out of his mind.

  Karen served him his plate and sat down in front of her own. “He says hi,” she said. “One day you’re going to have to learn to wake up early and actually talk to your son.”

  “That’s not fair,” John said, already beginning to eat. His stomach growled in encouragement, satisfied that it was getting the attention it needed. “I talked to him yesterday after he got back from soccer practice.”

  Karen smiled and winked at him. “My hero,” she said. “So what’s the plan for today?”

  “Write, write and write some more,” John smiled.

  “How’s that coming along?”

  “Swimmingly,” John lied. “Just two more weeks and I might actually be done.”

  Karen nodded and bit into her toast.

  “You don’t look too happy,” he frowned.

  “Oh, I am, believe me, I couldn’t be happier,” she said with a quick smile. “This place is starting to grow on me. I had kind of hoped we could stay here a bit longer.”

  “What about Dylan?”

  “Move him here with us,” Karen shrugged. “The school here looks pretty decent.”

  John put his fork down and cocked his head at his wife. “Are you suggesting permanently moving here?”

  “Why not?” Karen asked.

  “For starters, we can’t afford this place,” John said. “Right now we’re riding on the publisher paying the rent, and that’s probably just until Derrick gets the final manuscript.”

  “Then put off sending it to him for a few months.”

  “I have a deadline.”

  “Then let’s sell our house and buy this one.”

  “And your job?”

  “I can quit.”

  “Karen!”

  Karen slammed her fork down. “What?” she yelled.

  John frowned at his wife, sitting back slowly and forgetting all about breakfast as he stared at her in disbelief. He had never seen her lose her cool like this before, even when he did something utterly stupid. It was a new side to her, and it worried him.

  “I’m sorry,” Karen sighed. “The new job, well, it isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.”

  “I thought you loved it,” John said. “Besides, you’ve only been at it for a week before you drove out here.”

  “A week of hell.”

  John frowned and leaned in towards his wife, grabbing her hand and squeezing it lightly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Karen shook her head and smiled weakly. “You had your own problems,” she said. “I didn’t want to burden you with mine.”

  “You’re my wife. You’re supposed to burden me with your issues.”

  Karen put her other hand over his and stared out the window. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It just needs a little getting used to, and to be honest, it’s hard not having you around.”

  John smiled, obviously amused. “One week without me and your whole world falls apart,” he teased.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” Karen shot back quickly, smiling.

  He laughed and went back to his breakfast. “How about this? I’ll get some writing done until dinner, and then we can talk all about the new job and what’s bothering you. Sound good?”

  Karen nodded and picked up her fork, the two of them exchanging a smile as they resumed their breakfast.

  ***

  Karen pushed through the screen door, sipping her coffee and closing her eyes as the sun’s rays grazed her face. She stood still for a moment, letting the soft morning breeze blow through her hair before she made her way to the porch bench and sat down.

  Hank Pollard had fixed the bench up for them a few days befo
re, Karen insisting that she wasn’t going to have furniture lying around uselessly. It had taken the man less than a few hours to get it done, and she remembered the accusing look she had shot her husband. Sometimes she wondered what John would ever do without her.

  She pulled her husband’s pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and glanced quickly at the door to make sure he wasn’t coming outside after her, and lit one up. She took a long drag, filling her lungs with smoke before blowing it out, slowly. She had been careful not to let John know she had picked up the habit, and it wasn’t too hard since he was usually the one who smelled like a walking ashtray. Anything out of the usual could easily be pinned on him.

  Cradling her mug between her thighs and untying her ponytail, she let her hair loose as she took another drag. Her eyes wandered across the small road to the closest house to her. The Greens, she remembered June telling her. She had asked John about them before, but he had been oddly vague, waving off the conversation as if he had had better things to do.

  Which he did, but she found it hard to believe that her usually curious husband had not once toyed with any assumptions about his neighbors.

  She knew from June that the only other house on the street was home to an old couple rarely seen by anyone, the blue truck in their driveway the only proof that anyone even lived there. In the past week she had seen only a single car stop there, every two days like clockwork and only for an hour, then disappear again. She assumed they had a caretaker.

  Karen sipped her coffee, legs propped up in front of her and resting comfortably on the porch rail as she observed the Green estate. Soon enough, the blonde walked out the front door. Karen glanced at her watch, smiling at how the girl’s routine was as predictable as everything else in this town. The blonde immediately looked over, her gaze falling on Karen and her face in a deep frown. The first few times it had happened, Karen had found it confusing. Now it was just amusing.

  What’s your story, little girl?