Flypaper: Dark Psychological Thriller - Book 1 Read online

  What was the worst that could happen?

  ***

  “You've been here three months?”

  Danielle nodded and swallowed a bite of lasagna.

  “Thereabouts.”

  Nick and Danielle sat across from each other at The Spicy Meatball, Forest Down's approximation of fine dining. It was a cartoon version of an Italian restaurant. The tablecloths were checkered and the candles were in mason jars.

  “I had no idea. I knew Mrs. Thomson died but…” He trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

  “The woman in the apartment before me, yeah. Bonnie and Chuck talk about her.”

  “I met her a couple of times, she seemed nice.”

  “Did they tell you?”

  “Hm?” He pushed food around on his plate and glanced up at her.

  “About the cats?”

  “Oh, yeah. She had like six of them. I guess Bonnie found her, can you imagine?”

  Cats were like that. They didn't even wait for the body to cool.

  Nick eyed the family of three at a table nearby; a father, a mother, and a newborn. The father, sporting a black-and-red lumberjack shirt, eyed him back. That expression was familiar. Virtually every townie he encountered wore it.

  Ignore him and focus on the pretty girl, dumbass.

  Nick twirled a couple strands of spaghetti around his fork.

  “If I'm honest, I worry about that sometimes. Dying alone and being eaten by critters before anyone notices?”

  Danielle stopped slicing her lasagna into tiny bits and chuckled. “What? That won't happen. Come on.”

  “That could happen. I don't know if you know where I live.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I'm out in the boonies. I never see anybody.” Apart from the usual creeps and fan girls.

  “That's sad.” She cut another piece in half—smaller than bite size.

  “It's not, people are usually terrible. But if I died, the supporting cast of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves could get to me before anyone ever noticed.”

  Danielle snorted out loud and covered her face. “Oh my god, you didn't hear that.”

  “You snorted! I heard that.”

  “Fucker.” She grinned, color creeping into her cheeks.

  “And she's got a mouth on her.”

  The father several tables over grumbled loudly. The words “weird asshole” and “goddammit” were clearly audible. Had Danielle noticed? She glanced back at the man, but continued talking as though nothing happened.

  “So all you do is write? Like, twenty-four-seven?”

  “That’s about it,” he said; a total lie. “I feel weird asking this, but have you read anything of mine?”

  “I haven’t, I’m not much of a reader. I did see Rat King though.”

  Nick’s rolled his eyes in his go-to response for the movie version of his book. Of course she’d seen Rat King, who hadn’t?

  Danielle dropped her fork with a clatter and folded her arms. “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “You rolled your eyes.”

  She was perceptive; Nick had to hand it to her.

  “Ah, well, most people loved the movie. And it wasn’t that bad.”

  “But?” She tapped her nails on a red check of fabric.

  “But they messed with the ending. The book had a perfect ending, if I may toot my own horn.”

  “Toot away.”

  Nick snickered at that. Danielle joined him.

  “Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.” The father several tables away spoke at room volume. The words “mother-fucking quiet town” leapt out at him. What had he done to these people except breathe in and out in their space?

  Danielle glared at the man and Nick’s stomach knotted. She hadn’t asked for any of this. Should he shovel his food and get the hell out of there? He cleared his throat to divert Danielle’s attention from the unpleasantness.

  “Anyway. The ending to the book was simple, elegant. It wasn’t anything more than it needed to be. I’m not sure how to describe it.”

  “I get what you’re saying.”

  “But the movie studio got hold of it, and they blew it up into what you saw, which was—“

  “A bit over the top?”

  “Yep. It was way over the top. I didn’t care for it. The paycheck was nice, it’s how I ended up with my place out here, but I’d have turned it down if I knew how badly they’d screw up the ending.”

  Danielle sighed. “I hate it when they do that.”

  “Mess with books when they turn them into movies?”

  “When they mess with endings in particular. I feel like everything has the ending it’s supposed to have. It may be good or bad, but it’s the right ending for that story.”

  “Totally agree.”

  “I write a little bit. I’m sure you hear that all the time.” Danielle scratched around on her plate.

  She was beautiful, funny, and into writing? How deep did this rabbit-hole go?

  “Not nearly enough. Not from the right people, anyway. What do you write?” Nick asked.

  “Horror, mostly.”

  “Ooh, now I’m super intrigued. Is that what you do when you’re not working? Come to think of it, I don’t know what you do when you’re working, either.”

  Danielle fiddled with her fork. “I’m an artist, so I work from home.”

  “What, like an artist-artist? Gallery openings and what-not?”

  “No, I sell prints and originals over the internet. Self-made. I spend all of my time above Bonnie and Chuck’s. I don’t think I’ve been out with another person since I’ve moved here. Don’t judge me.” She blushed a little.

  A hermit after his own heart.

  “No judgment here. We’ve already established I’m in no position to judge. But the art, you make a living doing that? That’s impressive. I’d love to see your work sometime.”

  Danielle nodded excitedly. “We can definitely arrange that. I think it’ll be right up your alley.”

  “Okay, so tell me this. How does an artist successful enough to live off her work end up in Forest Down?”

  The lumberjack daddy tossed his fork down onto his plate with an almighty clink. The guy’s wife winced and the baby in her arms whimpered—the beginning of a full blown bawl.

  The man rose, threw out a louder “goddammit,” and stomped off in the direction of the restrooms. Paul Bunyan turned the corner, and Nick turned back to Danielle. He had to say something, apologize, whatever. He’d be damned if he would let Brawny Man crap in the middle of what was an otherwise exemplary first date.

  “Hey—”

  Danielle held up her palm and his apology fizzled.

  “Hold that thought. I need to, you know.” She gestured in the direction of the restrooms.

  “Oh, sure thing. I’ll be here.”

  Danielle took her purse and disappeared around the corner. The restaurant fell silent, aside from the squalling child.

  Nick graded himself. It’d gone well so far, all things considered. He continued eating, eager to get out before a mob of irate villagers lynched him. At this rate, he’d get into a fight with the lumberjack, and God knew what that man had in the back of his pick-up. An axe? Shovel? Hell, he’d seen Fargo; the guy likely had a wood chipper out back.

  Best not to subject Danielle to that.

  Several minutes passed and the lumberjack appeared, striding back to his table. He gestured wildly at his wife and raised his voice. “I said now, dammit.” The woman was confused, but did as her husband demanded. The husband threw some cash on the table, next to his half-eaten food and they disappeared a second later.

  Nick glanced back at the restrooms. What the hell was that about?

  Danielle strolled out of the restroom area and sat down at their table.

  “Okay,” she said and stabbed at a piece of lasagna. “What were you saying?”

  Nick blinked. He glanced at the restroom and back at the abandoned table. The
glasses on it were nearly full.

  “I don’t—I’m sorry, did you talk to that guy?”

  Danielle looked up from her plate. A mischievous smile crawled across her face. “I did, I couldn’t help myself. He was being an asshole.”

  She went back to eating but Nick couldn’t let that go. The elephant in the room didn’t leave space for air. “What’d you say to him?”

  Danielle stifled a laugh and finished chewing her food. She leaned in toward Nick. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “Hell yeah. I might even take notes.”

  “I said if he didn’t leave, I’d tell his wife we had sex in the bathroom.”

  In the silence that followed, the scrape of Danielle’s fork brushing against her plate was deafening. Nick read her face. She continued to smile, but it wasn’t a smile of jest; a smile of self-satisfaction.

  “Are you serious?”

  Danielle covered her mouth and swallowed. She shook with silent laughter.

  “I told him if he didn’t take his rude ass on down the road, I’d start screaming like he was screwing me blind.”

  She finished her sentence between bouts of hysterical laughter.

  Nick glanced around the empty room at the undisturbed tables and booths. He wanted someone to tell him how to feel about this. It was funny, but also awful. Kind of like his books.

  He dug deep, found the sadistic part inside laughing itself to death, and joined in. He couldn’t help it. They laughed themselves to tears. It was only exacerbated when the waiter entered the room, saw the family’s half-eaten food, and wandered off in abject confusion.

  The mirth died gradually, but it put up a fight. Nick had slapped the table until his hand was sore. His ribs ached. His cheeks hurt.

  “What were we even talking about?” Danielle wiped the last tear from her eye.

  “I have no idea.”

  Danielle scrunched her nose. “Oh, right. You never see anyone?”

  Apart from the Forest Down police department fairly often, no. But that wasn’t a factoid he’d throw out there yet.

  “I see Bonnie and Chuck every couple of weeks. Today was basically it. That was me getting out and seeing people. And buying life-sustaining coffee.”

  Danielle smiled. “You should get out more.”

  “I definitely should.”

  Danielle reached across the table and took Nick's hand. His heart jumped. He'd forgotten what voluntary skin contact felt like.

  “We'll get you out more.”

  The inside of Danielle's wrist had a black tattoo of highly-stylized letters. Nick lifted his hand and tried to make out the writing.

  “Ooh, nice tattoo, what does it say?”

  Danielle pulled her sleeve up and lifted her arm so Nick could see. Love.

  “Aw, that's nice. Is there any specific significance?” Nick let go of Danielle. “Sorry, I don't know if that's a question you're supposed to ask.”

  Danielle took Nick's hand again.

  “It's fine. It doesn't refer to anyone in particular if that's what you mean. I didn't have friends growing up. I was lonely.” She lifted a shoulder, shrugged like it was no big deal. “The idea of having someone that was just for me became super important to me. Make sense?”

  “It does, actually, I was the same way.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I was sick a lot, so I didn't get to play outside or do much of anything. I stayed in bed and read a lot of Stephen King. Watched a lot of horror movies.”

  “Oooooh, now you’re in my wheelhouse.”

  An idea struck Nick so hard and fast it blew past any filters between his brain and his mouth.

  “Hey, when you moved here, did you stay at The Shady Thicket?”

  Danielle shook her head, her mouth on her soda straw. “I’m not sure what that is.”

  “The Shady Thicket Inn, it’s supposed to be one of the most haunted places in the state. It’s right off the highway. Wanna see it?”

  Danielle grinned and bobbed her head. “More than anything.”

  Chapter 4

  The Shady Thicket Inn loomed over a small parking lot, empty save for two cars: the night desk clerk’s and Nick’s. At a whopping four stories, the building was the tallest in Forest Down.

  Only the lobby windows were lit. The rest were black eyes lining the Inn’s stark white exterior.

  “Holy shit, it looks haunted.” Danielle stood close to Nick. “Even looking at it gives me the jeebs.”

  “Right? And can you imagine how much creepier it would be if they hadn’t stuck that right there?” Nick pointed at the brightly lit gas station a hundred yards away. An SUV was parked at the pumps and a family of five was milling about. Dad looked tired and Mom was chasing the smallest child around in circles. She yelled about putting the garbage down.

  Danielle squealed. “Aw, look, they have kids. How many kids do you want?”

  Nick shrugged. “Oh, geez, I don’t know. I always figured it depended on who I ended up with. Some women are like, ‘I only want one’, but every now and again you come across one who wants six or seven.”

  She approached Nick and put her arm around his. “I always thought two would be nice. A boy and a girl. The best of both worlds.”

  That shut Nick up. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to come across as either too pushy or too stand-offish. He’d forgotten how much dating felt like walking a tight-rope.

  Danielle squeezed his arm. “So what do you think?”

  Nick stiffened. Was she asking about having kids?

  “About what?” His voice cracked. Nice. Not awkward at all.

  She nodded at the building. “The Inn. Do you think it’s haunted?”

  Nick was relieved at the change of subject, but managed to hold it together. “Eh. I didn't see anything when I stayed here. Still, you should see the inside, so you can say you have.”

  “Will they let us wander around like that?”

  “Worse comes to worse, we could get a room.”

  Danielle tilted her head at Nick.

  He blushed a little and scratched the back of his neck. “Not like that, I mean, to get in and look around.”

  “Right.”

  Nick laughed and moved on. “Seriously, we wouldn’t even have to stay in it. It's a few bucks, who cares? You should see the place.”

  Nick and Danielle walked up the steps to the Inn’s front porch.

  A soft material brushed against Nick’s face. Visions of spiders and other creepy-crawlies burst into his mind. He jumped back and flailed his arms.

  “Gayahh!”

  Danielle’s eyes widened in alarm. “What? What is it?”

  “Fuck me, it’s a spider-web.”

  Danielle burst at the seams, pouring laughter into the night air, but Nick was only half-amused, swiping cobwebs from his face.

  “You didn’t see that. If you didn’t see that, I didn’t hear you snort earlier.”

  Danielle held her hand up, the pinky finger extended. “Deal.”

  Nick and Danielle hooked their pinkies together and shook on it.

  They strolled into the inn’s lobby. It looked like an antique store vomited all over the place: the lamps, the carpet, everything within sight predated the Kennedy administration, possibly Jesus’ birth.

  A bell sat on the front desk and Nick reached to ring it, but stopped.

  A doorway behind the desk led to a small kitchen area. There was a little refrigerator and a coffee machine, the only modern technology visible.

  The night desk clerk, a tottering man of supernatural age, had a cabinet open. He looked into it for several moments and pulled out a jar of peanut-butter.

  Nick and Danielle shared a glance, and Nick nodded in the direction of the stairwell at the far-end of the lobby. The night desk clerk sniffed the jar of peanut butter and made a face.

  The two looked at each other again. Nick shrugged. Why not? They tiptoed across the lobby and up the stairs.

  The hallways of
the Inn were dimly lit. The intricate yellow and green patterns on the carpet and wallpaper were no doubt intended to be sophisticated, but were gaudy by modern standards. Identical doors lined the sides of the hall, each one closed.

  The silence was evident, almost a living thing in itself. There probably wasn't a single person in the place.

  “Whoa, it's like the Overlook in here!”

  “Shhh.”

  Nick raised a hand and glanced back toward the stairs and waved Danielle on and continued climbing. The stairs groaned beneath their lightest steps.

  Nick played tour guide. “Up on the fourth is where people are supposed to experience things.”

  “You never said what happened here.”

  “A few things actually.”

  “Such as?”

  Nick and Danielle made their way past the third floor and continued upwards. A light in the stairway flickered as they went by. Danielle moved closer.

  “It was there, on the third floor, a woman drowned her kid in the bathtub.”

  “That's terrible.”

  It was terrible. But mothers were like that sometimes.

  “Does that kind of thing bother you?” When she looked at him funny, he added, “I'd assume the drowning bothers you, but talking about it?” Hopefully he hadn’t freaked her out too much.

  “No, not even a little. I've always been fascinated by that sort of thing. I always had the weird books about death and serial killers and what-not checked out of the library when I was a kid. My parents thought I was morbid. But at least they didn't drown me.”

  Nick grunted solemnly and continued. “Anyway, back in the 80's some people complained to the night clerk that the baby down the hall was keeping them up. Not for a little while, they weren't being assholes about it, it had been going on for hours. So the people go downstairs and say, hey, can you move us to another floor, this kid has been keeping us up all night.”

  “I’m sensing another ‘but’.”

  Nick raised a finger. “But… the night clerk says there are no other guests on the third floor.”

  “Of course.”

  “This happened half-a-dozen times.”

  “Okay, that's creepy.”

  The fourth floor yawned before them. It was dimmer than the other floors. Nick lowered his voice and crept toward the end of the hall.