Haunted Hideout: Paranormal Suspense (The Haunted Ones Book 1) Page 2

  THREE

  LYDIA’S HAND RESTED on her son’s shoulder as they were guided into another room, this one without windows. And a uniformed agent stood at the door—holding a machine gun.

  “Everyone take a seat,” the guard said, holding the door open, then closing it when they entered. Lydia heard the tiny snick of the door latch locking. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. This was for real, real. The three of them flopped into metal chairs bolted to the floor around a stainless-steel table—also bolted to the floor.

  The door to the room opened, and this time it was a woman who stepped in. Her dark eyes were kind, set in a face that although attractive, showed signs of wear. “I’m Special Agent, Rhonda Bowles.” She looked at Mark and Angela and her head fell to the side. “I’m really sorry about your dad.”

  Angela fingered a fresh set of tears from under her eyes. She nodded and put her hand on her mother’s shoulder. Mark didn’t even try to respond, his mute focus on the floor.

  Lydia pushed up from the chair, setting her son on his feet in front of her. “So this is it? We’re leaving now? Can we stop at the house to pick up some things?” But it wasn’t the designer wardrobe she was thinking about. There were photo albums, memories of the kids as babies, toddlers and then there were the family photos with Liam. Liam sitting next to the pool, shading his eyes from the sun and trying to turn from the camera’s lens.

  The room seemed to spin when she pictured that. There’d be no more easy teasing, no more holding each other sharing their day. Her grasp on Mark’s shoulders tightened for a few beats as she fought for control. Looking down at her son’s dark curls, was another reminder of Liam, the same mop of unruly hair.

  But Liam was gone. From now on it would be her providing emotional support for the kids. She took a deep breath and looked over at the agent. The small shake of the woman’s head told Lydia that their past lives were over. There’d be no photo albums or memorabilia to anchor them. They were adrift.

  Angela stepped closer to the agent and her voice was flat. “I can’t call my friends to say goodbye, can I?”

  “I’m sorry, honey. I’ll need your cell phones.” She looked past Angela, meeting Lydia’s red-rimmed eyes. “We can’t take any chances with your safety.”

  Lydia scooped her phone from her pocket and handed it over. It was tempting to take one last scroll through the pictures she’d saved there, but it would bring on a new onslaught of crying. There’d be plenty of time for tears later.

  In the elevator taking them to the basement parking lot, Angela slipped her hand around her mother’s. Lydia looked down at her and managed a smile meant to be encouraging. Her son kept his distance, being stoic, watching the numbers light up on the elevator’s overhead panel. Her hand curled over his shoulder pulling him closer. Her children were all she had now.

  ***

  The female agent, Rhonda, rode shotgun while her partner, Alex, drove the same black Suburban Lydia had been in before. Thankfully both agents were sensitive enough to stay silent as the vehicle threaded through the streets.

  It was a somber ride, all three of the Robbins family sitting mute. Lydia stared out the tinted glass at places, her mind flooding with memories the familiar scenes evoked. All their lives, Miami had been home. It flew by in a blur of tears. Everything reminded her of Liam. Restaurants where they’d dined, parks and the white sand beach where they’d enjoyed weekends with the kids. All gone now along with him. She turned and leaned forward, her hand on the seat back next to Rhonda.

  “What about Liam’s funeral? There has to be something.” Her voice cracked, choking on her next words, “We can’t just leave him as if he never existed!”

  “Oh God, Mom.” Angela buried her face in her hands, rocking back and forth, moaning softly.

  Rhonda turned and her voice was low. “His body will be cremated. I’ll arrange for his ashes to be sent to you. I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

  “What about Aunt Carla? Won’t she wonder what happened to Dad? To us?” Mark’s voice was barely audible. He looked down at his lap, shredding the tissue in his hands.

  Lydia sank lower still. Oh God. With all that had happened she’d never given a thought to Liam’s sister and her family. She and Carla had never been close but still, the kids would miss her. What would Carla think when she couldn’t contact any of them?

  It was the other agent, Alex, who answered, glancing into the rearview mirror. “We’ve done this many times before. Don’t worry about your aunt. I’m sorry, but you can’t ever contact her. She’s in Denmark, right? We didn’t deem her to be at risk.”

  Thinking of Carla brought to mind the other people she’d never see again. There was no other family but there were friends she’d worked with. Although she’d miss them it would be nothing to what her children would suffer. Angela had a big social network but it would be Sophia she’d really miss. They’d been inseparable since kindergarten. And Mark. There were only two friends he’d hung around with, but they were tight as bark to a tree.

  Now there was no one. They only had each other to console and cry with over Liam...Dad.

  How long had he known about the drug cartel? Had he known when he was first recruited by Harmony Group? And to have kept this from her, for the last nine years? He had a secret life that didn’t include them. But for sure they were now paying the price. Lydia closed her eyes and her lower lip trembled.

  Liam. How could you do this to us?

  FOUR

  Angela

  ANGELA WAS NUMB, the barren trees and yellowed grass skimming by as she stared out the window, barely registered. They must have been in the car close to fifteen hours. She was cramped and sore. There were no tears left to cry, only an empty hole inside that would never be filled again.

  Mark broke the silence. “Are we stopping soon? I need to go to the bathroom.” To prove his point he squirmed in the leather seat, causing her to edge closer to the window away from him.

  The woman agent’s assurance that they’d stop at the next service center was just background noise. When her mother reached across and touched her arm, Angela turned to face her. For just a fleeting moment the grief and loss in her mother’s eyes caused an ache in her chest. How would Mom ever manage without Dad? He’d been the rock that they all depended on to keep the household running. Mom was always busy with her career, working crazy hours. Dad was the only one to pry Mark away from Minecraft so he could get some fresh air and exercise. Her brother would probably retreat even further into the cyber world, if that was even possible.

  “Angela, you should eat something.” Seeing the blank look on her face, Mom turned to the woman agent. “Rhonda, do you think we could stop and get some warmer clothes? I mean it’s November and it’s going to be cold right? Can we go to some kind of mall?”

  Yeah clothes. Angela looked up at the female agent waiting for an answer. The jeans she had on felt old and repulsive. Not to mention the light cotton sweater that was full of tears, snot and sweat. Eew. She’d never be able to wear these things again...not without thinking of Dad. And then getting dragged into the FBI office and learning about his death. This whole thing was a nightmare.

  Rhonda turned and smiled at Mark, “If you can hold it for another twenty minutes, there’s an outlet mall we were going to stop at.” Turning to Mom, “We’re meeting up with another agent who will take you from there. He’s got your new identity papers and credit cards, along with new cell phones. You can eat something then shop for some things. The house will have everything you need but you’re right about the clothes.”

  Angela leaned forward when a new thought bubbled to the surface. “Wait. We don’t get to pick our names? What if I get some kind of weird name like Stella or Tiffany? No way am I going to be a Tiffany.”

  “I want to be Logan. That’s a cool name.” Mark actually grinned.

  Angela shoved him into their mother. “That’s not cool. It’s dumb.” Trust Mark to come up with something stu
pid like a movie character.

  Alex chuckled and his eyes showed in the mirror. “Sorry dude, but the names have to be bland and boring. We don’t want you to stand out in any way.”

  Angela sniffed at her brother and turned back to the window. Great. She was probably destined to be Mary. Or worse—Ann. Please God, not Elizabeth. Her stomach rumbled, bringing her back to the here and now. A picture of a hamburger flashed in her mind. She hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before! And getting out of the stuffy vehicle to stretch her legs would be nice.

  Her eyes closed and her gut sank down to her knees. Dad. He was gone and there she was thinking of her belly and stupid names. She’d give anything to have him there with them.

  ***

  Mark silently continued to pick at the hangnail on his thumb. He didn’t give a shit about what name he was going to get. Dad was dead, and Angela was worried about her new name? What a jerk. He closed his eyes falling back into himself as he always did when things got to be too much. A small sigh tried to get out his mouth but he shut it down.

  Dad was the only one who ever “got” him. It was okay to be quiet, unlike his sister, always yammering going on about her friends or some lame movie. Who would understand him now? Mom still treated him like he was in preschool. Hell, he was finishing middle school, the top of his class in math and science. Angela would probably go on to college...if there was a scholarship for shopping. As if.

  Dad had always balanced out the “squees” and chatter of his mother and sister. Now he was gone. He’d left big shoes to fill. How much had he known about the drug world? Were the FBI right, that they’d be safe? That never happened on Narcos. The innocent family always got killed. Maybe he should get a gun. Mom wouldn’t have to know. He could order it online.

  He popped his head up and reached over the seat before him. “How big is this town we’re going to be living in?” Mark nudged Alex’s shoulder. Although, would the town size matter if the drug cartel was still searching for them?

  “It’s a lot smaller than Miami, my friend. Maybe forty thousand people or so. It’s a touristy kind of place.” Alex smiled and then his gaze drifted back to the road.

  “Like Disney World?” His chin dropped lower. Nice place to visit but he wouldn’t want to live there. Too much flash and people making like the fantasy was real. Shallow and boring.

  This time it was Rhonda who spoke. She was nice like Arnie’s mother had been. God. He’d never see Arnie again. Or his mother.

  “It’s a busy place in the summer with boaters. It’s on the St. Lawrence, right on the border. But there’s a friendly town atmosphere that you’ll like.” She turned and smiled at him. “There was a time when drinking liquor was illegal in the States. But not in Canada. People used to smuggle booze in from there and sell it over here. They were called rum runners. Alex Bay was one pit stop for them. That’s kind of exciting, right?”

  His mom shot Rhonda a look, “Maybe not, considering why we’re going there.” She took a tissue from her purse and blotted it on the bloody nail, he’d picked at.

  Rhonda’s face became still and she nodded, turning back to face the front. “Yeah. Sorry. I just thought it would make the place sound more exciting than it really is.”

  Mark shrank deeper into his seat, sensing the tension that had fallen like a shroud. It all came back to Dad. How was he ever going to get through this?

  FIVE

  Jake

  JAKE WHITAKER NURSED HIS SECOND COFFEE, sitting at the table in the food court. In the sheepskin jacket and jeans, he could be any guy waiting for his wife or girlfriend to take a break from shopping to join him. Except for his eyes. It was a habit he’d formed from his years with the Bureau. He could tell you how many elderly couples and young mothers with squalling babies were seated there, even down to their eye color, height, age and clothing.

  He fished his cell phone from his jacket and glanced at the time. When Rhonda had called they were twenty minutes away from the outlet mall. They were late. Could be traffic, or maybe not. He’d read the file and he knew the reputation of that drug cartel. But Rhonda and Alex were seasoned agents. If anyone could get the family out of Miami without being trailed, it would be them.

  When the far end of the glass doors popped open, a sense of relief eased his tension, watching Rhonda stride through. Behind her was a slender blond in a summer business suit, herding a dark-haired teenage girl on one side and a skinny boy about twelve or so on the other. And of course, securing the rear was Alex.

  He raised his hand and got to his feet, signaling to them. Rhonda smiled and then said something to the blond before leading the way over to his table. With just a glance their tear streaked and weary faces tugged at his heart. They were not only dealing with grief, but shock from being ripped from everything familiar and secure.

  Rhonda smiled and leaned in to give him a quick hug. “Hey Jake. How you doin’?”

  He held her at arm’s length and looked into her bloodshot eyes. “Better than you from the looks of it.”

  She snorted, “At least I’m goin’ back to warm weather, my friend.” She turned her head and motioned the blond closer. “Lydia, I’d like you to meet Jake Whitaker. Don’t let appearances fool you. He may look easygoing and a bit rough around the edges, but he’s got eyes in the back of his head. You’ll be in good hands.”

  Jake took her small hand in his. “Pleased to meet you. I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Robbins.” Without waiting for Rhonda to continue, he turned to the daughter and reached for her hand. “Angela. I’m sorry about your dad.”

  When she nodded, he turned to the boy. In a microsecond he knew this was the one who was hurting the most. This was the one he’d have to watch carefully to keep him from slipping into depression. Years of dealing with families and kids gave him a Spidey sense about these things. “Mark. This is tough, man. I’m sorry.” He held on to the kid’s hand a beat longer.

  He leaned to the side and extended a chair for Lydia, “Please, have a seat.”

  She smiled, revealing thousands of dollars invested in a perfect set of teeth. “I’m afraid, Mr. Whitaker, my son needs to use the restroom. Long drive.” Her hand cupped Mark’s shoulder and she started to turn away.

  Angela grimaced and stepped over to her mother. “I’m going too. I feel grungy. I need to wash my hands at least.”

  The other agent clapped him on the arm. “You stay here, I’ll stand watch at the restrooms, man.” Alex was pretty cool for a guy who’d been awake for more than twenty-four hours, but what the hell. Jake sat back in his seat.

  He watched the small troupe cross the food court and then disappear down a corridor marked with a sign for the washrooms. He sat down and finished the rest of his lukewarm coffee. There was a reason that the mall was the meeting spot; it was busy with people coming and going, but more importantly, totally anonymous. But an afternoon of shopping with two women and a young kid wasn’t something he looked forward to. What guy ever did?

  ***

  Mark sat next to the new agent, waiting at the front of a department store for his mom and sister. The last he’d seen them they were pushing a shopping cart almost filled to the brim with clothes. But considering what they’d gone through in the last while, at least it took their mind off the bad stuff. For a little while, anyway.

  “Hey Mark. What do you do for fun? Are you into sports?”

  He jerked in his seat at the agent’s friendly intrusion. “Uhhh...”

  The guy shrugged and his mouth pulled to the side in a lopsided grin.

  Mark glanced at his feet and then at the man, “I like video games?”

  The guy...Jake, yeah, Jake was his name, grinned wider still and turned slightly to face him. “Oh yeah? Like Skylanders or Pokemon? I’ve tried Skylanders a few times and it was fun.”

  Skylanders? That was for amateurs. Mark shook his head, “No...uh, Minecraft. You build stuff, like even the pyramids or the Eiffel Tower. But monsters or zombies can attack anytime. It’s c
ool.”