He walked out and closed the door behind him just as movers brought some of his stuff upstairs. He pointed to the spaces he wanted them but didn’t say anything. He was a quiet boy; clearly, he didn’t fit in anywhere, and he had a problem communicating. He reminded Robyn of her cousin, shy and awkward and all he wanted was to fit in.
Charlie, the little girl, came running in, excited. She saw Robyn and stopped, still smiling, and said, “Oh, there you are.”
Robyn smiled and put a finger to her lips, and Charlie nodded. Robyn stood between the little girl and the ghastly image of Tatum so she wouldn’t be traumatised.
“What do you want, Charlie?” James asked, pushing his bed to a corner.
“Mama said you or Clint could show me to my room, please?” she asked, her eyes still on Robyn.
“Sure,” James said. “This way,” he added before leading the way out.
Robyn followed them as James preceded Charlie to Sylvana’s room. Luckily there would be no spirits in there to scare the girl. At least not yet.
James left her there turning in a circle in the centre of the space with wide eyes, which eventually fell on Robyn.
“I’m Charlie,” she said, giving a small curtsey. “Do you want to be my friend?”
Robyn smiled and nodded. “Sure, Charlie. I’m Robyn, but you can’t tell anyone about me, okay?”
“They can’t see you,” Charlie said. “How come?”
“Because only special little girls can see me, which is why you can’t tell anyone. I don’t want not-special people to try to speak to me, okay?”
“Okay,” Charlie agreed. “So you’ll be my friend?”
“Your best friend,” Robyn said with a short nod, “and I’ll keep you safe from everything.”
“Charlie, who are you talking to?” Diana asked as she walked in carrying two boxes and set them down in the corner.
“Myself, mama,” she said. “Just myself. There is no one here.”
Diana smiled and bent to kiss her head. “Okay. Well, Daddy says once we’re finished unpacking, we can go for ice cream. Would you like to do that?”
“Oh, yes please, mama,” she squealed. “I love ice cream. Can I have a rocky road?”
“Of course you can, my darling.” Diana kissed her head again and left.
Robyn watched the exchange, inclining her head to the left as she thought about her own mother and how they wouldn’t see each other until that fateful day that she passed. Robyn missed her terribly, but being a spirit had made her grow up incredibly fast, especially once she had decided she couldn’t let the Butcher kill anyone else. It had taken her so long to finally find someone who would catch him, and end him, and then he didn’t leave.
She would do whatever it took to protect this family, even if it meant driving them from the house, too.
_____
Diana
“She’s already talking to an imaginary friend,” Diana commented as she took another box from Robbie. “I really think she’s going to love it here.”
“Of course she is, love,” he said, “and the boys will too once they start school and make a few friends.”
Diana nodded. She hoped in her heart that he was right, but couldn’t help but feel guilty over the pain and upset this move had caused their family. She kept reminding herself that this was temporary and that they would find a house soon enough and make one last move before they settled down permanently.
She carried the box to Clinton’s room and set it outside the door, peeking in. “Settling in?” she asked, instantly regretting it.
With an eye roll and a click of his tongue, Clinton quickly retorted, “Yeah, if you like living in nineteen-whenever-there-wasn’t-internet. I mean, who doesn’t have internet these days?”
Diana bit her tongue, keeping as calm as she could by reminding herself it was just because of the move. He would relax soon.
“We’ll arrange to have the lineup and running in no time, Clint,” she said. “In the meantime, here’s one of your boxes to unpack.”
“Why? We’re just going to move again.”
Diana wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, but either way, she couldn’t blame him. This was the ninth time they had moved house in his life, and he remembered each and every one. They were really unlucky that way, but she knew this would be the last time. With Robbie’s new position at work, he wouldn’t be transferred again, and they could finally settle down.
“Don’t unpack it, then,” she chirped. “But don’t think you’re using my toothbrush tonight,” she teased, leaving before her son could respond.
She paused at James’ room and leaned against the door frame, meticulously watching him stick up a poster. “You okay, honey?”
“Hmm,” was the only response she got and she accepted it.
This was James’ way of dealing with everything, and she couldn’t ask more from him. She watched him for a moment longer, before deciding to go check on Charlie again.
Whichever imaginary friend Charlie had been speaking to this time must have gone for a walk because she found her daughter playing on the floor of her bedroom, having a picnic tea party with her teddy bears.
“Do you want to join us, mommy?” she asked sweetly, and Diana knelt to kiss her cheek.
“Maybe another time, sweetheart. Mommy has to help Daddy finish offloading the boxes.” She glanced around. “Hey, you have a few boxes in here; why don’t you unpack them and put your things where you want them.”
“Okay, mommy,” Charlie said, abandoning her tea party to go to the nearest box and rip it open.
Diana stood up again and left.
_____
Moving was not easy, and Diana was soon exhausted from lugging boxes from the truck to the house, sorting them to the various rooms they were destined for. She sat on the sofa and panted slightly, her muscles aching. All around her was busy; her boys and Charlie unpacked their things while Robbie still offloaded the last of their gear. She smiled softly and decided that Clinton was right about the house. It was ancient and needed a bit of work, but it would do. She enjoyed the sounds of her family being busy while she sat on the dusty sofa downstairs.
She watched Robbie walk in and out of the house until he finally came over to join her.
“Not so bad, eh?” he said. “We managed to do everything in one trip.”
“I’m glad. I would have hated to be going up and down the stairs at our old place any more than we already have,” Diana commented, reaching to shift Robbie’s hair out of his eyes.
She loved how handsome her husband was, albeit only to her. God help any other woman who would think so. She smiled at the thought.
“You’re such a good-looking dad,” she murmured, moving to stand up and get closer to him, sitting across his lap.
“Oh, am I?” he said, the tease in his voice evident. He stroked her hair. “You’re a pretty hot mama,” he purred at her, letting his hand fall to caress the small of her back.
Diana couldn’t help the shiver that passed through her body. Her back had always been sensitive, and Robbie knew that. He knew just how to play her like a fiddle. She looked at him again; his messy black hair that needed a cut, his big blue eyes and his soft lips. She leaned forward and kissed him deeply, breathing in hard as she did so, relishing the taste of his mouth, tobacco mixed with bubble-gum. He tasted like Robbie, of comfort and familiarity.
Robbie broke the kiss with a cheeky smile. “What was that for?” he gushed, slightly taken aback.
“You are my everything,” Diana said. “You and the kids, and I love you with my everything.”
“I love you too, darling,” Robbie said, stroking her back, “and I cannot wait,” he lowered his voice, “to consummate yet another move.”
Diana blushed and giggled. “Robbie,” she whispered, “you’d swear the only reason we move is for you to consummate the move.”
“Maybe,” he teased, “but I don’t need any excuse to make love to you.”
“You are so damn sexy when you breathe me in like that,” he said.
“You old horn dog,” she laughed and kissed his neck.
She kissed him again, and again, kissing her way up his neck and along his chin softly, letting her tongue flick out and caress his skin as she did so. He let out a soft moan before she consumed his lips.
“Ready to go, Daddy?” Charlie said, and they both jumped.
Robbie coughed and patted Diana’s bum. “Up you get, love. You may have promised ice cream, but I’ll be taking them.”
“Yay! Clinton! James!” Charlie called. “We’re going for ice cream!”
Clinton came downstairs slowly. “Bribery,” he announced. “Bribery and corruption for forcing me to stay here.”
“Do you want or do you not want?” Robbie asked.
“Yeah, okay,” Clinton conceded, heading out of the front door with Charlie right after him.
Diana glanced upstairs and saw James standing there, staring down at them.
“You coming with us for some ice cream?” she asked, but James shook his head and turned, going back to his room and shutting the door. Diana called, “We’ll be back in an hour, don’t leave the house.”
Robbie put an arm around her. “He’ll be fine. This is a family neighbourhood. Everyone seems nice enough.”
“We haven’t met anyone, babe,” she said as they strolled to the car.
“Exactly, that’s what makes good neighbours. People keeping to themselves,” he said, giving her a pointed look and smiling his mischievous smile before he climbed into the car. “Right! Ice cream time!”
Diana looked up at the house and saw James watching them from his window. She lifted her hand to say goodbye, but he didn’t see her or didn’t feel like saying goodbye. He simply stood there and stared as they left together.
_____
Chapter Two
James
They had been at the new house for a week already before James finally felt like checking out the back yard. His room was finally perfect, even though he thought it was a waste of time because they would probably just move again.
He went downstairs on Friday morning and noticed a note from his parents on the fridge. They had gone grocery shopping and had taken Charlie with them. There were snacks in the fridge for the boys, and they would be home soon.
James opened the fridge to find one snack, a bite taken out of it already, sitting on the shelf. No doubt the handiwork of his twin. He shook his head and shut the door again.
Making his way to the back door, he stared out at the yard. Speak of the devil, and he will appear; Clinton was there, crouching on the grass doing something that James couldn’t see.
Curiosity getting the better of him, he opened the door and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Clinton mumbled.
Far from deterring James, this just served to pique his curiosity, even more, so he slipped out and shut the door behind him. He walked over and found Clint cutting away at a squirrel.
“Gross,” James said, pulling a face. “Why the hell would you kill a squirrel?”
“I didn’t,” Clint said, not bothering to look up. “I found it here, and I want to skin it so I can make something.”
“You’re creepy,” James said and hugged himself.
Although he found it disgusting, he couldn’t help but stand there and watch as his brother hacked away at the squirrel with a kitchen knife.
“What are you two doing?”
They both jumped, James more so than Clinton, at the sound of another boy’s voice. Standing at the edge of the fence that separated their property from the one next door was a tall blond boy who couldn’t have been much older than either of them.
“None of your business,” Clinton said, turning his back on the boy.
“I’m Lincoln,” he said. “Is that a squirrel?”
“Yeah, so?” Clinton responded.
“That’s kind of psycho, kid,” Lincoln said, coming over to take a better look.
Clinton continued trying to get the squirrel’s fur off.
“You better watch out, or you’ll be the next Butcher!” Lincoln smiled.
“The next what?” James asked.
“The Butcher,” Lincoln replied. “You know? The serial killer that killed all those girls a couple of years back.”
Clinton had stopped to look up at Lincoln, his curiosity aroused. “What about him?” he asked, dropping the squirrel and standing up to go rinse his hands under the garden tap.
Lincoln and James both followed as Lincoln said, “He used to live in my house,” and he pointed to the house next door, “and he used to attack people right from when he was a kid. Kill them and cut out their tongues, take their heads off, that sort of stuff.”
“You live in a serial killer’s house?” James said with wide eyes.
“Yeah, but he was killed in your house!” Lincoln said, looking smug.
“What?” Clinton asked, straightening.
“Yeah, he tried to attack someone in the house, a cop, I think, and he killed him. Right in that room there.” He pointed to the window where James’s room was. “Some say he still haunts the house,” he added dramatically, “and that any girl that goes in there gets her head chopped off and her tongue removed.”
“What’d he do with the tongues?” Clinton asked, now rapt.
“Dunno. Some say he ate them, others say the police found them. I think he probably sacrificed them to Satan.”
“Bullshit,” Clinton said, grinning. “You’re just trying to scare us.”
“It’s true,” Lincoln responded. “You can look it up in the papers and everything.”
James turned his back on the conversation and walked towards the house, feeling sick. Someone had been murdered in his room. He had to ask his father or his mother; they would know if that was true.
He felt cold, chilled to the bone, and as he climbed the stairs back to his room, he could hear Clinton and Lincoln laughing about something. Well, his parents would be happy knowing that at least Clinton had made a friend. James wasn’t really good at that. He didn’t like speaking to people; it made him anxious, and he always worried he would say the wrong thing.
James opened his bedroom door and shivered. Looking around, it didn’t seem like the kind of room someone would be murdered in. He glanced over everything carefully, trying to find any trace of blood or something that indicated there had once been a dead body here. The thought made him nauseous, and he quickly made his way to the bathroom, where he started to retch.
Once the few contents of his stomach were out, and he had flushed the toilet, he brushed his teeth and tongue. As he did, he remembered what Lincoln had said about the tongues.
Why the tongues?
James wondered what was so significant about the tongues. Maybe to stop them from screaming? Perhaps, like James, he didn’t like people talking to him. James smiled; he could kind of see how that was appealing, people being unable to speak to him because they didn’t have tongues. Perhaps this Butcher, whoever he was, was simply misunderstood and didn’t mean to kill all those people. Maybe he just wanted some silence.
_____
Diana
“I made a new friend today,” Clinton declared over dinner, and Diana couldn’t prevent the giant smile that spread across her face.
She was seated at the one end of the table while Robbie was at the other. Charlie sat next to her with the twins opposite.
“What’s his name?” Diana asked.
“Lincoln,” Clinton answered.
“And how did you meet him?”
“I was skinning a squirrel,” Clinton said.
Robbie blurted, “You killed a squirrel?”
“No,” Clinton said, looking between his parents. “I found a dead squirrel and tried to skin it so I could make some ol
d-fashioned cuffs like in the movies. But that’s not the point …”
Of course, it wasn’t. Diana shook her head at her son; sometimes she wondered about him.
“Anyway, this kid Lincoln from next door came over to tell us about how someone was killed in this house.” Clinton glanced at his parents in turn eagerly.
James looked up. Appearing concerned, he said quietly, “In my room.”
Diana looked at Robbie with wide eyes and asked, “Where did he hear that?”
“It was all over the news,” Clinton said, “and he lives next door where some serial killer used to live. Is it true, mom? Did someone really die in James’s room?”
He seemed excited, and Diana hated that; she hated how much Clinton loved violence and gore and everything dark. It made her worry more about him.
“Honey, let’s not talk about this at the dinner table; you’ll scare your sister,” Diana remarked, cutting up her food and pretending to concentrate on it.
“You moved us into a house where someone was murdered; she should be scared.”
Diana looked up at him sharply and raised an eyebrow. “Enough, Clinton.” She shifted her attention to Charlie, who was watching them with wide eyes.
“Mommy,” she said, “what’s ‘murdered’?”
Diana sighed, but before she could explain Clinton dropped his fork dramatically. “It means someone was killed in this house. Their head was cut off, and their tongue was cut out.”
“Mommy,” Charlie whined, tears springing to her eyes, “is that true?”
James also looked at their mother, and she glanced at Robbie, who was conveniently busy playing on his mobile. She sighed and said, “Don’t be scared, sweetheart, because if Clinton had heard the whole story, he would know the bad man who did it is gone. He was killed by a police officer.”
Charlie picked at her food, her wild imagination running away with her. James pushed his food away.
“James, eat your vegetables,” Robbie said, without looking up from his phone.
The Butcher Box Set Page 26
