He reached down beside his knee and then handed the thick folder across to her. “You’ll find new IDs for each of you in here. Your last name is Robertson. Close to Robbins, so easy to remember. We’re changing your name to your middle one. From now on, you’re Elizabeth, or short form, Liza. Close but different. The kids will keep their first names. It’s too easy for kids to draw a blank when their new name is called, like in class or something.”
Angela snorted, “Great. Sorry for your luck, Mom. Or should I say, Liza?”
He glanced in the mirror. Good. They were following the conversation. “There’re credit cards, a driver’s license and birth certificates. We’ve opened an account at the bank for you with a balance of ten thousand dollars.”
Lydia’s eyes were wide when she looked over at him, “But what about my accounts in Miami? There was a substantial deposit, investments, the kids college fund. And...” She took a breath, “...the life insurance.”
He glanced at her, noticing the set of her jaw, trying to keep her composure. “The bureau looks after all that. Your savings and investment accounts are closed. The money from that, along with the proceeds from the insurance policy, will be credited to your account.” He paused for a moment. The next part was always tricky.
“But you need my signature to withdraw any amount larger than two thousand dollars.” She was about to protest, staring wild eyed at him, so he quickly added, “We do this for your protection. You need to keep a low profile. And believe it or not, before we made that rule, we had people try it alone. They took their money and fled, trying to make a new life on their own. It never worked out for them.”
Her eyes narrowed, “How long does that restriction last? Not forever, I hope. My kids will be going to college and I really don’t want you to cosign on that! No offense but...”
“It’s just for a few years. At least until we know you’re safe and settled.” He glanced over at her. She didn’t look happy about it but at least she was keeping quiet. “We’ve got a job lined up for you at the Department of Social Security. It’s clerical and the hourly rate is fifteen dollars.”
“What? You’ve got to be crazy! Do you realize I earned close to a hundred grand last year? Fifteen dollars an hour! Right.” Her face had darkened which even the fading light outside couldn’t conceal.
“Wait! You didn’t let me finish. We top you up. But you have to understand that living in Miami costs more than here.” He glanced out the window at the rolling vacant land beside the highway. “A lot more. Taking that into consideration you only need half of your income to maintain that same standard of living.” He glanced over at her. Yeah, she was hurting but not financially. Pretty spunky. She’d do okay.
“We’ll see about that.” She turned and gazed out the side window, running her fingers through her hair.
“What about the school? How many kids go there? Is it some Podunk kind of place?” Angela had leaned forward, her hand on the seat next to his shoulder.
He blew out a long breath through pursed lips, “Almost three hundred.” He braced himself.
“Are you shitting me? My school had three thousand kids! Oh maaan.”
He decided to let it go. “Your house is on the outskirts. It’s four bedrooms and right on the river. There’s a few acres of land and an outbuilding, a barn. Great place to have a dog or a cat. What do you say, Mark?” The boy had been too quiet. The odds were pretty good that the kid never had a pet, and if he did it was probably a bird or a gerbil. Pets could be therapeutic.
“I’m allergic to cat dander.” Mark’s voice was barely above a mumble.
“How old is the house? Does it have a modern kitchen? A garbage disposal, dishwasher?” Lydia peered at him closely.
“It’s turn of the century. An artist couple renovated it from top to bottom with every convenience you’d need or want. They did all that work and then moved to California. Weird.” He didn’t bother to add that the place had sat vacant for almost a year. The ever budget-conscious bureau had picked it up for a song on the off chance they’d need it.
With the money they saved they could afford to give him a raise. And here was this woman complaining about her income, more than he made and he risked his life to do the job.
“Maybe they were in the witness protection program.” Lydia flashed a grim smile at him.
SEVEN
Angela
ANGELA SIGHED. They were on the outskirts of the town, if you could call a smattering of stores and a few low office buildings, a town. There were practically no lights of houses or businesses breaking the walls of pitch-black on either side of the road. It had been a few miles since there’d been any signs of civilization. Where the hell were they going to be living?
The vehicle slowed and turned down another equally darkened road but instead of the smooth pavement, this road was pitted and bumpy.
Jake’s voice sounded as worn out as the road they were on. “We’re just about there.”
“This really is isolated.” Mom’s voice was also road weary, but with an undercurrent of worry. She gazed out the side window and let out a long sigh.
Angela leaned forward, peering out the front windshield. Slices of the white house showed between the trunks of thick, ancient trees, lined up in a row like sentinels. When they parked next to the walkway, a set of steps led up to a veranda and the front door, where a lone light above cast dim light. Above, two windows like eyes stared down at them as if they were intruders or something.
Jake opened his door and paused, glancing over at Mom. “You stay here while I check things out and get the lights on.” When he got out and stepped forward, a handgun was in his fist.
Mark nudged Angela’s shoulder, watching with eyes the size of golf balls. The fact that Jake had his gun out was a stark reminder of the circumstances which had brought them to the old house.
“I hope he doesn’t just dump us here and then leave,” Angela muttered. The thought of going in there stranded without a clue where they even were, made her shudder.
Mom sighed. “I’m sure he won’t. This is his job, right?” But her mother didn’t sound all that convincing.
When Jake opened the door and disappeared inside, Mom leaned over to click all of the car locks. It wasn’t just her then, feeling like a sitting duck surrounded on three sides in the inky-black night. Their mom felt it too. This total darkness was definitely foreign. There were always the glare of lights in Miami. How did people in the country stand it?
One after another, a series of lights flared in the downstairs windows, marking Jake’s progress through the house. It wasn’t long after the upstairs was blazing with lights, that he strode through the door and then bounded out to the car. Angela flipped the lock and got out. Her leg muscles stretched, relief spreading after the long drive. The air was chilly but not frigid like she’d feared.
“All clear, just as I figured, but why take chances, right?” Jake slid by her to get the packages of clothes from the back.
She looked up at the upper level and then continued up the steps, following her mother. The house was old, nothing like the modern ranch bungalow she’d grown up in. Even the smell inside was weird, and the wooden floorboard creaked when she walked across it peering up the wide set of stairs. Her mother’s feet clattered, going down the hallway while Mark was right on her heels.
“Angela, come and see this.” There was a trace of excitement in Mom’s voice.
Angela shrugged seeing the agent come into the entryway, his arms laden with their purchases and then joined her mother and Mark. She stepped into a huge kitchen with a granite counter, modern cabinets and an island eating area to the side next to a wide set of windows. Her mother was busy trying the faucets and inspecting the dishwasher, while Mark stared into the refrigerator taking stock.
“This is better than I’d expected.” Her mother continued scanning through the cabinets and opening drawers.
Jake came in, and his hands were on his hips looking around. “Ther
e’s not that much food. Just staples to get you by for a day or so. We’ll go in town tomorrow to get your car and then you can get whatever you want.” He wandered over to the window and pulled the curtain back. “You can see the river from here, y’know.”
Angela looked over but of course there was nothing but black showing in the window. “So are you staying with us tonight?” This was uppermost on her mind right then, forget the view and the modern kitchen.
“Absolutely. I’ll be a fixture for a couple of days to make sure you’re okay here.” He walked over to stand next to Mark who was now rummaging in the fridge’s drawers. “There’s pizza in the freezer and lots of soda.”
Mom managed a wan smile, “And wine too, I hope.” She stepped over to Angela and put her arm over her shoulders pulling her in close. “Let’s finish the tour and then I’ll put pizza in the oven.”
There was an arched doorway at the side of the kitchen that led to the dining room. It was furnished with a long dark table, six chairs tucked in and a side cabinet. Two large windows at the side looked newer than the original set in the kitchen.
“I’m not sure how much entertaining we’ll be doing.” Mom sniffed and then steered them out to the front hallway. “A center-hall plan. Typical for this age of a house.” She was going into real estate mode. Oh no.
Angela pulled away from her and stepped into the living room. There was a fireplace at the end of the room while a new beige set of furniture, a sofa, love seat, and chairs clustered around a squat wooden coffee table. A reddish oriental rug broke the monotony of the dark wooden floor. She shivered and pulled the collar of her jacket higher. The room definitely needed that fireplace going. It was a lot chillier in there than it had been in the rest of the downstairs.
Again, there was an archway leading to a small room, lined with bookshelves but completely bare of furniture. She went back to the living room where everyone else was.
“We left that room unfurnished. You might want to use it as an office or library or whatever. You’ll be here for a while and in case you want to put your own finishing touches on the place, we just left it.”
Mom looked over at him. “That kitchen update must have cost thousands of dollars. And all the floors have been refinished and new windows? That’s not cheap. Funny for that couple to spend all that money and then just up and leave. They must have been loaded.”
Jake’s eyebrows rose and he looked away for a few beats. “I’m afraid they focused mostly on the downstairs. The upstairs is almost all original, except for the master bedroom.”
“Do we have Wi-Fi?” Mark was looking after his priorities, after checking out the contents of the fridge.
“We’ll get you connected in a day or so. This was kind of short notice, buddy.” Jake sighed and looked down at his feet.
Yeah. Short notice for Dad as well. Angela took a deep breath and then trudged out of the room, filing past everyone and making for the stairway. Dad was dead and here they were discussing the internet and renovations in the house. It was sick. The whole place and everything sucked. She clomped up the staircase, the squeaks of the boards grating her last nerve.
At the head of the stairs she looked into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of a white pedestal sink and a toilet. Stepping inside there was a huge bathtub with claw feet and a curved shower rod above it. Oh God. It was probably the only bathroom, and she’d have to share it with the rest of them.
Turning away, about to leave, she jerked back at the image in the mirror over the sink. There’d been a face there! A girl with long dark hair!
She peered closer, but now only her own face, framed by disheveled brown hair showed. What the hell? Her heart skipped a beat, and she blinked a couple of times before checking the mirror once more. Nothing now. God. She was so tired and worn out that she was seeing things.
She left the room but her chest was tight, her heart still pounding fast. The first room she came to after the bathroom had to be the master bedroom. It was huge, kind of like they’d taken two bedrooms and made one large room. A queen-sized bed dominated the space, while a wall of mirrored doors concealed what had to be the closet area. Again the windows at the side of the house, the side where Jake had said the river was, were expansive.
At the sound of her mother and Mark following up the stairs, she turned to continue exploring. She’d definitely stake a claim on the next biggest room before her brother had a chance. A quick glance in the following bedroom confirmed her suspicions that the master bedroom had gobbled up the space. It was little bigger than a walk-in closet!
Her fingers trailed over the railing above the stairwell and she entered the room at the front of the house. It wasn’t as big as her room back home had been, but it was probably the best she was going to get.
There was a double bed with a cream-colored spread and a large chest of drawers. She glanced out the window, looking down at the front driveway and the back half of the vehicle. The spindly tips of one of the trees outside whispered over the glass. Her eyes narrowed. She’d have to do something about that. If the wind picked up it would be sure to tap and she’d never be able to sleep.
As she walked across the worn planks of the floor, the creaking of the wood shadowed her. Something else she’d have to take care of with a rug or something. But the closet was bigger than she would have expected. Even though the door was narrow, it went back on one side a few feet. Enough room for her stuff.
At the sound of footsteps near the doorway she turned. Mark stood in the entrance, his dark eyes roaming over the room from the window to the far end.
“No way. This room is mine, Mark. You don’t need as much space as I do.” She walked over to him and crossed her arms over her chest, defying him to object.
He shrugged dismissively. “Mine’s closer to the bathroom anyway.” With that he turned, ceding victory.
She ambled over to the bed, plopping down to test it. The new wood in the frame squeaked just a little in protest, but other than that, it would do.
Her mother stepped in, gazing around before turning to her. “This is okay, right? We’ll get some carpeting and...” Her voice trailed off and she sighed. “Look, I know this is hard. I hate this too. But what choice do we have?”
Angela rose and walked over. The wear of the day showed in her mother’s eyes and the deep lines creasing her forehead. She took her mother’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Mom. You’re right. We don’t really have a choice.”
She looked past her mother when Jake’s footsteps sounded coming down the hallway. Everything kind of echoed when anyone moved. That was annoying.
He held out the shopping bags. “I don’t know which is which here, ladies. You sort it out and I’ll get the pizza going.”
Which brought up another question, since he was making himself at home there. “Where are you going to sleep?”
He set the bags down and then his hands slipped into the back pockets of his jeans. “Downstairs. I’ll take the sofa. It’s only for a night or two. It won’t kill me.”
Her mother’s head tilted to the side. “Do you live in Alexandria Bay? Do you have family nearby, Jake?”
The smile fell from his face and he turned to leave. “Nope. Not anymore.”
Angela looked at her mother, waiting for his footsteps to pound on the stairs and he was out of earshot. “Well that was awkward. Not anymore as in dead or—”
“Not everyone is like us, kiddo. He’s probably divorced. We’ll just leave that alone, shall we?” Her mother reached for the first bag and peeked inside. “This one’s yours.”
EIGHT
Mark
MARK FINISHED PUTTING HIS NEW CLOTHES IN THE DRESSER and then slumped looking around his new room. The white walls and the lacy curtains were so yucky. Even the bedspread was wussie, a baby blue with white stripes. He wandered over to the small desk and flipped the laptop open. A long sigh escaped. Until they got the internet, it was totally useless.
The sounds of drawers bangi
ng shut as Angela and his mom sorted through the new clothes, putting them away, pulled his gaze from the computer. It was kind of like the time they’d rented the beach house on Sanibel Island, getting settled in for a week of fun. Except there were no white sand beaches here. And Dad wasn’t here either.
This was anything but fun. He tightened his eyes, squeezing them shut as tight as he could. He wasn’t gonna cry; if he started, he’d never stop.
It was unreal to be unpacking, to actually now live in the middle of nowhere. Not unreal. More like a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from.
He left the room and went downstairs. The smell of baking pizza got stronger with each step, till his mouth watered. In the hallway leading to the kitchen he discovered a door he hadn’t noticed the first time. A sliver of light shone under it. He paused, about to turn the handle to see if it was another bathroom, when the door creaked open by itself, drifting toward him. His eyes popped wider and his breath hitched in his chest.
His hand slowly rose to pull it wider. It wasn’t a room though. There was a small area before another old set of stairs which led down to the cellar. That’s what they call it, right? A dank and musty smell wafted up and cobwebs clinging to the wooden studs fluttered as if from a breeze. The light from the bulb did little to reveal anything beyond the first few steps. Everything below was shrouded in darkness.
Haunted Hideout Page 3