House of Fire (Unraveled Series) (26 page)

“They’re gone,” the
man’s voice scratched again, this time just a decibel louder.

She heard the sound
of rubber soles making contact with the linoleum. Footsteps. The smell. She
didn’t see him, yet she smelled him. The same odor she had smelled in the
woods. He was coming closer, emerging in a foul mix of rotting eggs, body odor
and festering flesh. Uncleanliness to the extreme. Disease. Delaney breathed
through her mouth, cranking her neck once again to the voice, waiting for him
to appear on her right. She saw the black rubber come around the corner before
the rest of his body emerged. Saggy, polyester, plaid pants pulled high, well
above his natural waist, secured with a thin black belt. The buckle, a dirty
gold, rubbed against the cotton of his once-white shirt. The shirt was almost
see through, so thin from repetitive wearing and
maybe
washing; she
wasn’t sure if the shirt actually got washed. His hands were also filthy, the
dirt visible from across the room. Her eyes moved up to his arms, the skin
sagging from his forearms just like it had on Janice. His jowls, the same as
the woman. It was like they had morphed into the same person as they aged;
their characteristics strikingly similar except for her most prominent feature,
her nose. His nose was a tiny pinch of cartilage and flesh, as if it had been
sculpted as an after-thought. He puffed and wheezed as he neared her, the smell
overwhelming Delaney’s entire body.

He stopped three feet
in front of her and outstretched his arm, pointing his crooked, dirty finger in
her face. He smiled a toothless grin, a lunatic smile, with his bushy eyebrows
scrunched down and in desperate need of taming. He inhaled a quick breath, his
chest rattling with the sudden intake.

“They’re gone and
there ain’t nothing you gonna do about it, girl. You and her, ya shouldn’t a
been on my property. You hear? Causing all sorts a problems for me. For Mr.
Parker. You shouldn’t do that. You know who he is?” Ken scratched.

Mr. Parker? Who
calls their son Mr. Parker? And God, how did we not hear them?
Or smell them?
Delaney
was silent, concentrating on breathing through her mouth.

“Shush now, Ken.”
Janice waved her hand and pushed his finger down, giving Delaney a toothy
smile.

At least she has
teeth
.

“Leave these girls
alone a bit,” she continued.

“It ain’t my fault
they were on the property. We outta get rid of them, that’s what I think,” he
rasped again, his eyes getting wide with excitement. Delaney shuddered, trying
to wiggle her body again.

“You ain’t getting
out of those,” he added. “Mr. Parker tied ‘em before he left.”

“Ken, why don’t you
go sit down.” Janice fluttered her hand at him, lightly shoving his forearm
before pointing to the other side of the room. He grunted off, shuffling
through the kitchen and what looked to be a dining room, but clearly wasn’t
being used as a dining room. Boxes and junk cluttered the room instead, piles
of broken lamps and old clothes heaped on each other in a hoarding nightmare.

“That man ain’t got
no sense to him anymore. Shouldn’t be calling our Holston, Mr. Parker,” Janice
muttered under her breath. “Not that many men do to begin with, but that’s
between you and me.” She winked as though they’d shared a good laugh, a bond
between two women. Delaney nodded her head in agreement, assessing the
situation they were in; Janice was clearly the one in control. Delaney needed to
get on her good side and fast.

“That stupid husband
of mine darn near killed that one,” Janice said, pressing her index finger into
her leg. “A child. That poor thing is just a girl.”

Delaney’s eyes
studied Evie’s chest, finally catching the slight rise with her breath.
She’s
alive.
Her face and body were unmarked except for the bump Delaney could
already detect in the back of her head where she had been hit. The crusty blood
pooled at the center of the welt. Delaney turned her head back to the window,
the bright light streaming through the cloudy glass. She scanned the kitchen,
looking for a working appliance that shone with the familiar green glow. The
time.
How long were they out? Where had he taken her?

“Don’t worry; your
mother is safe with Holston. He wouldn’t ever hurt his precious Ann. Not ever,”
Janice rasped, moving to get the glass of water again. “I’m sorry about what I
had to do to you. Holston knew you wouldn’t agree to anything. That you
wouldn’t lie down nicely like you should.” She paddled back, the water shaking
once again in the glass. Delaney cleared her throat, opening her mouth to
speak, but nothing came out.

“I promise it’s good water. The
well’s just a little dirty, that’s all.” Janice shoved the water in Delaney’s
face again, splashing a few drops on her bare legs. Delaney nodded her head
slightly, letting Janice put the glass gently to her lips. Delaney clenched her
face tight, pursing her lips as the water hit her mouth and moved down her
throat. She forced the water down with three hard gulps, the taste of iron
lingering on her mouth as Janice pulled the glass away.

Delaney cleared her throat again
before she scratched out an audible noise, “Ann.”

“What’s that, dear?” Janice smiled
another toothy grin. Delaney knew Janice had heard her. The iron water, if it
was water, crawled in her stomach. The panic rose to Delaney’s voice.

“What is he going to do to her?”
Delaney asked.

“Holston won’t hurt Ann. I already
told you that. You need to pay attention.” She held the glass in front of her
again. “Those looks ain’t gonna get you far in life. You gotta have some wits
about ya.”

Delaney shook her head to the
water, staring into Janice’s wandering pupils. Janice’s eyes were slightly
shaking back and forth, almost a jiggle that you barely noticed if you weren’t
concentrating hard enough. Delany saw it, though; she saw the constant jag and
shutter that made her look crazy. Her eyes were the cherry on top, pushing her
over the edge into a sure psychopath.
Holston didn’t stray far.

“You’re wondering about Holston,
aren’t you, dear?” Janice let out a cackle, a small choked sound that pierced
Delaney’s ears and made her turn her head toward Evie’s still slumped body.
Delaney wanted to reach out and kick her awake. Delaney felt the twine pull
against her skin as she lurched it outward. Janice ignored Delaney’s fruitless
leg wiggling because she knew Delaney was never going to get out of the
restraints. Delaney’s leg stopped and rested against the linoleum.

“He was a good boy, ya know,”
Janice continued, turning her back to set the glass on the counter. She paused
at the sink, gazing out the window into the backyard. “Made good choices. He
had a rough time for a bit. With his mum and dad being killed in that car
accident. He bumped around orphanages. No one wanted a kid who was all grown
up, but God brought him to us. Ya know, God never leads you astray. You have
God in your life, Delaney?”

Delaney hesitated. The sound of her
own name crawling from Janice’s throat sent pin pricks through her skin. She
knew her name.
What else does she know?
Why did Holston bring Ann
here?

“Not especially,” Delaney murmured.

She hadn’t stepped foot in a church
since Ben’s wedding six months ago. A weight had been lifted after Richard
Rowan’s death, as though it had been a small token from God looking down on
her, attempting to bring her full circle to the
idea
that goodness
prevailed. However, it was merely an idea to Delaney, not a fact, and she still
hadn’t come to terms with God, if He existed at all. Holston Parker had paved a
path of evil she couldn’t possibly ignore or understand. He had dictated the chain
of events that led her to kill the man in the barn and led to the deaths of so
many innocent people. He had brought her here in pursuit of her mother. Evil
had its claws around the neck of the good.

“Shame on you,” Janice scolded with
a fury of white strayed eyebrows. Delaney wanted to trim them neatly into a
tidy little row. Either that or pluck them out, but Delaney sat silent,
unmoving as Janice’s face finally restored to its usual, less ugly state. If
less
ugly
was even possible. “God will punish you for not believing. For
defiling his righteousness,” Janice continued as she looked above Delaney’s
head and gestured a sign of the cross in front of her body.

Delaney leaned forward as far as
she could, the ties around her arms halting her after only a few inches. She
turned her neck to see a thick, wooden crucifix looming above her head where it
had been affixed to the wall with large black bolts. The cross was at least
four feet tall, the beams almost six inches wide. The massive structure
occupied most of the wall space, the dark gray wood popped in stark contrast to
the same yellow and green wallpaper that was adhered to the wall in front of
her.
Another religious zealot gone awry
.

“What does God do with murderers?
How does he punish them?” Delaney asked.

“They go to Hell, of course,” she
said, looking back down at Delaney. “Unless…” The word hung in the air with
heavy consideration.

“Unless?” Delaney asked.

“Unless it was God’s plan,” Janice
said. Her fingers reached up to her neck, fumbling with the large white button
that held her dress intact at her neck. The cotton collar was loose, floppy
from years of use. Her hands shook as she scratched at the button, her fingers
not cooperating enough to follow her mind’s commands. She grumbled, her eyes
scattering down even though she would never be able to see the button; her
jowls hung too low. She finally opened it, scrabbling at her neck to pull a
chain from beneath her dress. The brass chain slacked until a metal crucifix
finally appeared with an ornate heart that practically pulsed from the middle
of it. She pulled at the heart until it popped open to reveal a small, black
and white picture of a boy. Her fingernail scratched at it, the small picture
finally fluttering into the palm of her hand. She held it out, her arm
stretched toward Delaney as far as she could straighten her arthritic elbow.
Delaney looked into the picture to see gray eyes staring back at her.
Holston.

“You see, Holston, he’s a part of
God’s plan. God has called him to serve and my precious Holston has bravely
responded. A soldier of God,” Janice said proudly as if she were speaking about
her son who had served in the Army, a soldier who had gone to war and faced
death in the eye. A brave soldier that had endured, had battled evil. Holston had
never done such a thing. Holston was the complete antithesis of a serving
veteran.
These people are so gone.

“Murder is part of the plan?”
Delaney strained as she attempted to swallow a laugh or a scream. She wasn’t
sure which was about to come out; she felt them both careening through her
body, threatening to take over, when a low moan escaped next to her.
Evie.

“Only if it’s God’s plan,” Janice
repeated, beginning to sound agitated. Her belief was so firm, so rigid, so
right in her own mind, that she couldn’t fathom any other possibility. Delaney
realized it wasn’t worth arguing with the hag. Delaney needed Evie to wake up
and they needed to get out to save Ann.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t
for God sending me Holston. He saved me from a wretched man trying to take me
out of this world,” Janice said, still holding out the picture of Holston in
her outstretched hand. Delaney was silent, the sweat now dripping down the back
of her neck. The room was roasting, festering with filth and heat like an enclosed
tomb.

“It was in the early sixties when
that little town, Amberg, had a string of murders during the summer of 1962.
Two women dead. In the middle of the night, that man upped and took those
women. Poor Ginger and Lorraine. They were good women, ya know. Honest,
hard-working. He raped them then left their poor bodies in the woods. That
night, I was gonna be the third. Ken was snoring like he always did when I felt
the cloth cover my face. Ether, I bet that’s what he used. He stood over me and
then I was gone,” Janice whispered the last words, her eye jiggling wildly as
she leaned into Delaney. Her hot breath seeped across Delaney’s face, the
disease crawling against Delaney’s skin. Evie shifted in the seat next to her
as she finally gained consciousness. Delaney watched her head tilt back as
another groan grew in her throat. Janice ignored Evie, too engrossed in the
telling of her own story.

“I woke up in the woods. Naked.
Cold. My body lying in nothing ‘cept dirt and moss. I thought I died until the
pain hit me. In my legs. My pelvis. That’s when I saw him. My ten-year-old
Holston sitting on a tree stump next to me, covered in blood, shaking. That
poor boy. That’s when he told me what happened and I looked down to see that
sick man’s dead face. It was white, his eyes open. It was the new mayor that
had come to town. Just moved in a few months before,” Janice continued. “And
they would have never believed it. No one living in that town woulda believed
that the orphan boy saved me. They would have thrown his scrawny, little bones
behind bars and thrown away the key. So I did what was best. Holston saved me
so I saved him. I had to get rid of the body.”

“You cremated him,” Evie’s voice
interrupted in a low growl, rasping as her thin neck held her head steady.

“Evie, my dear girl. It’s nice to
see you again,” Janice said through her teeth, not even attempting a courteous
smile. Janice patted Evie’s knee, resting it on her skin with her final pat.
Evie shook her leg, trying to get away from the hand, but Janice’s nails clung
on, digging into her leg. Evie stopped, letting out a small howl like a wounded
dog.

“She’s right. We did cremate him
out back,” Janice continued.
Cremate? The building in the back.
Delany’s
body shuddered, the sweat beginning to accumulate on the back of her thighs.
That’s
how he makes the bodies disappear. He cremates them. We’ve got to get out of
here.