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  SICK HOUSE

  A novel by Jeff Strand

  Sick House copyright 2018 by Jeff Strand

  Cover design by Lynne Hansen http://www.LynneHansen.com

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the author.

  For more information about the author, visit http://www.JeffStrand.com

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  PROLOGUE

  Gina Atherton would never, ever harm a living creature, but that didn't mean she wouldn't play with its bones after it was dead.

  She'd covered her dining room table with several layers of newspaper and then set out her collection of skeletons. Two cats, a small dog, a squirrel, a rat, and a snake, along with a deer skull. The rat, snake, and deer bones she'd bought from a taxidermy shop. The cats and squirrel she'd found, mostly intact, by the side of the road; she'd taken them home and let nature do the rest. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten the dog.

  Now the fun part. Mix and match. Maybe she'd make a snake with a rat's head. Or a dog with a squirrel's head. Or a deer head with eight cat-legs.

  So many possibilities.

  Once they were done, Gina would bury them in the flower garden. She smiled at the thought of them being uncovered, whether it was soon after she moved away, or years after she was dead.

  Gina was a realist. She knew that the next people who lived in this house were unlikely to shout, "Oh my God! It's a cat-legged deer-head! What an amazing scientific discovery!" It was satisfying enough that they'd wonder what kind of deranged person would bury bones like this.

  She loved to think that they'd question her sanity.

  Her sister wouldn't appreciate this. Her sister didn't like her acting crazy. But Gina didn't have to tell her about the bones, did she?

  It amused her to picture somebody lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking A crazy lady used to live here. Maybe they'd worry that she'd never left. Not a legitimate worry, of course, but a small nagging one they couldn't quite dismiss...

  Though she knew this made her a bad person, it delighted her even more to think of a child needing to be comforted by his or her parents. "Is the woman who buried the bones still here?"

  "Of course not, honey."

  "Is she hiding under my bed?"

  "You know she isn't."

  "What if she's in my closet?"

  "She's not. I promise. Please go to sleep. It's late and you have school tomorrow."

  "But I'm scared."

  Gina looked at the bones strewn on her table and clapped her hands in glee.

  So very many possibilities.

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Gardner! Get your ass in here!"

  Boyd Gardner looked up from the table saw. Mr. Prace was not the kind of boss to grab a beer with his employees after work, but he also wasn't one to abuse his authority. If he was shouting from the other side of the floor, this was serious.

  Boyd set down the plywood that he hadn't yet started cutting and removed his safety goggles. The other guys on the floor gave him a variety of looks: sympathy, confusion, and (mostly) relief that it wasn't them getting yelled at.

  Mr. Prace gestured. "In my fucking office! Now!"

  Cursing, though not unheard of, was rare. He'd certainly never shouted the f-word in front of everyone. As Boyd hurried past the other workstations, he desperately hoped this was some kind of misunderstanding.

  Mr. Prace walked into his office and Boyd followed. A man Boyd didn't recognize stood next to Mr. Prace's desk. He was wearing a dress shirt and tie and sure looked like he could be from Human Resources. Boyd felt a little sick to his stomach.

  "Take off your gloves," said Mr. Prace. "Show some respect."

  "Sorry, sir," said Boyd, taking off his work gloves. This was not traditionally a "sir" environment, but it seemed appropriate now.

  "Have a seat."

  Boyd sat down on one of the two chairs in front of Mr. Prace's small wobbly desk. They made furniture here, so Boyd had never been sure if the desk was an intentional or accidental irony.

  Mr. Prace remained standing. He didn't acknowledge the other man in the room. "Boyd, sometimes our past actions come back to haunt us. I want you to think back to a conversation from three months ago."

  Boyd had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

  "You can stop calling me sir. Being a kiss-ass isn't going to change this. Where were you three months ago?"

  Boyd shrugged. "I can't remember."

  I can't lose my job. I can't lose my job. I am so deeply screwed if I lose my job.

  He'd been working here for four years. Surely he'd just get a severe reprimand for whatever it was, right? Especially since he had no clue what it could possibly be. His attendance had been perfect since the doctors gave his daughter Paige a clean bill of health, and that was a year ago. He was never late. He sure as hell hadn't sexually harassed anyone. Whatever he'd done to screw up three months ago couldn't be a fireable offense.

  "You were right here. We were doing your annual performance review."

  Boyd nodded. It had gone pretty well. Now he was even more baffled.

  "Do you remember what you said?"

  "I...thanked you at the end?"

  Mr. Prace folded his arms across his chest. "You said that you were interested in moving up the chain of command. Said you'd like to be a supervisor someday. Well, Boyd, you've got yourself a promotion."

  Boyd stared at him, not quite processing what he was hearing.

  Mr. Prace grinned. "We're moving you to the Kirkland location. You've now got longer hours, more headaches, and more money. Congratulations."

  "Oh my God." Boyd exhaled a sigh of relief. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

  "C'mon, you know you do great work. I hate to lose somebody like you, but this is an outstanding opportunity and I'm sure you'll make the best of it. You'd said that you were willing to relocate. That's still true, right?"

  Boyd nodded. "Yes, yes. Adeline hates her job. My job is the only thing keeping us here."

  Mr. Prace pointed at the man in the tie. "He'll talk to you about the details. We'll be sending you to some training, but I'm sure you'll breeze right through it; I've seen the way you interact with the other guys on the floor."

  "Thank you. This means a lot."

  "When you're done here, you can either walk out with your head hung and keep the joke going or just tell them the truth. Your call."

  "I'll probably just tell them."

  "That's fine."

  * * *

  Though Boyd was not typically a "crank up the music and drum your hands against the steering wheel" kind of guy, this was no ordinary day. It took him a minute to find a radio station that was playing something sufficiently hard rocking, but once he did, he turned the volume up as loud as he could without getting distortion from the old speakers.

  There were two pizza boxes on the passenger seat. Pizza was typically a Saturday night treat, but not only was Boyd breaking tradition regarding the day of the week, he'd gone to one of the good pizza places. Supervisors didn't have to get their pizza from restaurants that stingily parsed out pepperoni in such a way that two pieces on a single slice was cause for celebration. Tonight, Boyd Gardner's family was having double pepperoni. With extra cheese. And garlic butter dipping sauce. No
cinnamon sticks, though; those would have to wait until he was established in his new position.

  He'd hoped that at thirty-two years old he'd be doing a better job of providing for his family. Not that he was doing a terrible job. After all, they had a roof over their heads, food on the table, and no rats scurried over them while they slept. But they lived in a cramped apartment where his two daughters had to share a room, and where he and Adeline had to listen to the neighbors on the other side of the wall have painful-sounding sex every Thursday night.

  Not anymore.

  Though it wasn't as if they were suddenly fabulously wealthy monocle-wearing socialites, the lives of the Gardners were about to get a lot better.

  * * *

  "Daddy!" shouted his eight-year-old daughter Naomi as he walked into the apartment. She allowed him just enough time to place the boxes on the dining room table, then gave him one of her legendary rib-splintering hugs.

  Adeline closed her laptop and got up off the couch. "What's this?" she asked.

  "Pizza," Boyd informed her.

  "I know that, Mr. Obvious, but what's the occasion? Did you rob a pizza place?"

  "Nope."

  Adeline gave him a suspicious look. "You seem weirdly giddy."

  "All will be explained."

  "I'll get the paper plates." As Adeline walked into the kitchen, Boyd watched her ass. He didn't look at her ass nearly often enough these days. That was going to change.

  It was, after all, an ass that should have been out of his league. Unlike Boyd, Adeline was tall, slender, and pleasing to the eye. Boyd kept in sort of decent shape, but he had a face like an action figure that had melted just a bit. Though he didn't frighten young children, in terms of handsomeness Adeline had not won the husband lottery. ("Good thing you care more about charm than looks," he'd often say. She'd scold him for making fun of his appearance, and also playfully warn him not to overestimate his charm.) He was going prematurely gray, though he didn't think it looked bad, and he had a lot more lines on his face than the typical guy who was still several years from a mid-life crisis.

  "Family meeting!" he announced.

  His daughter Paige, who was thirteen yet somehow didn't roll her eyes every time her parents spoke, came out of her bedroom. "Did you get pizza?" she asked, pushing up her glasses.

  "Yes indeed."

  "Is Mom pregnant?"

  "What? No!" Boyd glanced at Adeline, who shook her head to verify this.

  "So what's the family meeting about?" Adeline asked.

  "Let's feast first."

  "I'll enjoy it more if I know why you're acting so weird."

  "We're going to make a lot of changes," said Boyd. "The first of which is that when I come home in a really good mood with pizza, it shouldn't be seen as 'acting weird.' I want it to be normal."

  "Can we have pizza every night from now on?" asked Naomi.

  "Nope," said Boyd.

  "Are we getting a dog?"

  "No. Actually, maybe. We'll discuss that later."

  "Is Grandma coming to live with us?"

  "God, no."

  "I meant the good Grandma."

  "I know who you meant. Still, no."

  Naomi bunched up her face in concentration as she considered her next question. "Are we going to be on TV?"

  "Just let him tell us," said Paige.

  "I got a promotion at work," said Boyd. "A really nice one."

  "That's great!" said Adeline, giving him a tight hug. "Oh, honey, I'm so proud of you!"

  "The job itself is going to be stressful, but I won't have to take weekend shifts anymore."

  "Hooray!" shouted Naomi.

  "Will you work in the same building?" asked Adeline.

  Boyd shook his head. "Kirkland."

  "That's way too far to commute."

  "Yep. I know. We're getting out of here. We've been talking about it for a while, and now it's gonna happen. We're getting a house, kids! You'll have your own rooms!"

  Paige's face lit up. "Oh my God! Really?"

  "Really. I mean, it's not going to be a mansion. It probably won't even be a very big house. But, yes, you'll each have your own room, I promise."

  Paige and Naomi joined in the hug. Then everybody dug into the pizza.

  "Can I be cyber schooled?" Naomi asked.

  "Don't talk with your mouth full," said Adeline.

  Naomi swallowed the bite. "Can I?"

  "No."

  "Mom's still going to work," said Boyd. "She just gets to quit the evil day job that's sucking away her soul. But I'm sure you'll like your new teacher better."

  "Ms. Taylor is a b-word."

  "I know, sweetie. She's a horrible, horrible woman." Boyd and Adeline made it a point to instill a sense of respect in their daughters...but there was no arguing the fact that Ms. Taylor really was a bitch.

  "Can I bring Gordon?"

  "Gordon would be happier if you just let him go, don't you think?"

  "No!"

  "Then yes, you can bring Gordon." Gordon was Naomi's pet tarantula. If Boyd were to rank all of the possible pets he was comfortable having in the house, a tarantula would be dead last. But he hadn't wanted to seem like a coward, so she was allowed to keep Gordon as long as the spider never, ever, ever, ever, ever vacated the aquarium under any circumstances.

  "To new beginnings," said Adeline, holding up her can of root beer.

  "To new beginnings," they all said, clinking their cans together.

  CHAPTER TWO

  While Naomi brushed her teeth, or pretended to, Boyd walked into the girls' room and sat down on the edge of Paige's bed.

  "You're okay with this, right?" he asked.

  Paige pushed up her glasses and nodded. Unlike Naomi, who was a carbon copy of her mother, Paige was almost all recessive traits. She had curly blonde hair that she kept short, in contrast to Adeline and Naomi's shoulder-length straight black hair, and she was the only member of either of their extended families with freckles. No child should have to look like Boyd, so she was fortunate that the resemblance was so faint—just enough that he didn't feel the need for a DNA test. She did have his dimples.

  "I know we've discussed it before. I just wanted to make sure your mind hasn't changed."

  Paige shrugged.

  "Has it?"

  "Not really. I mean, I do have some friends now."

  "I know," said Boyd. "You'll still get to see them. We'll come back every once in a while."

  "We don't need to. They're okay friends. They're not, like, the best friends ever. I can talk to Chrissy online. I'll be fine."

  "And you'll make a lot of new friends, I promise."

  "That's not something you can really promise," said Paige, "but yeah, I feel like I will. I'm good. I'm happy to leave."

  Boyd was an attentive father, but the mind of a teenage girl was even more of an enigma to him now than it was when he was a teenage boy. He thought Paige was okay with the move. Couldn't be sure.

  "You know, you'll be able to reinvent yourself," he said. "Get a completely fresh start. Your past can be anything you want. I mean, you shouldn't make stuff up, that's not what I'm saying, but whatever parts you don't like, you don't have to share with anybody."

  Paige grinned. "I like that idea."

  "This is a rare opportunity. Kids don't get the chance to start from scratch very often."

  "Kids move all the time, but I appreciate what you're trying to do for me, Dad."

  "I just want to make sure you understand that you do have a say in this."

  "So if I threw a screaming fit and started kicking the walls, you wouldn't take the new job?"

  "I'd try to reason with you, but if you truly felt that it was worth kicking the walls, I'd tell them to shove their stupid promotion."

  "What if I looked at you with puppy dog eyes and said 'Please, dearest Papa, please don't make us move, for I shall be so lonely if we leave'?"

  "Oh, with puppy dog eyes you'd definitely get your way."

  "What if
I threatened to slash my wrists?"

  "That's too dark," said Boyd. "Don't say that."

  "I'm joking."

  "I know you are, sweetie, but let's stick to joking about puppy dog eyes. It stops being fun when you talk about hurting yourself."

  "All right. I was just kidding, though."

  "I know, I know. Your Dad's a wuss. Anyway, I'm going to assume that you're completely on board with the move unless you tell me otherwise."

  "I'm completely on board with it. One hundred percent. Because those Kirkland men are fine. Mmm mmm mmm. Good luck keeping track of all my boyfriends."

  Boyd stood up. "I think that's enough father/daughter time for one evening."

  "Are you going to be mad when I come home with a pierced tongue?"

  "Goodnight, Paige."

  "No, a bisected one."

  "Goodnight, Paige."

  "If I had a bisected tongue, I could make out with two guys at once. Save some time."

  "Why are you so comfortable around me?"

  "You should hear what I say around Mom."

  "Brush your teeth, Naomi," Boyd called out.

  "I am!" said Naomi from the bathroom. "I've been brushing them the whole time! Can't you hear it?"

  "You've got your electric toothbrush turned on but you're just holding it in the air. It sounds different when it's against your teeth."

  The whirr of the toothbrush changed pitch.

  "Thank you."

  A moment later the toothbrush stopped and Naomi walked into the bedroom in her light green nightgown.

  "That was five seconds," said Boyd.

  Naomi pulled her lips back with her fingers, showing off her teeth. It was actually kind of a creepy sight, but Boyd had to concede that there were no strips of pepperoni hanging from her pearly whites.

  "All right, get in bed."

  Naomi climbed into bed. Boyd tucked her in and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She didn't ask for stories anymore, and he kind of missed pretending to bicker with her about it.

  "Goodnight," he said.