Her Silent Shadow: A Gripping Psychological Suspense Collection

by Edwin Dasso

  Author’s Content advisory

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About the Author

  Also By Tanya R. Taylor

  Author’s Content advisory

  Headstone

  Language intensity

  No or mild profanity

  Sexuality intensity

  Possible sexual references with no details

  Violence intensity

  Violence but no gory details.

  Preface

  “Do not be deceived:

  Evil company corrupts good habits.”

  The Holy Bible

  The Reed family has suffered a great loss—their patriarch, Harvey Reed, has passed away and his children are left to mourn. Soon after, Toby and his three siblings become victims of a series of bizarre events which occur one right after the other. One sibling, who’s driven to the verge of insanity is convinced she’s seen her deceased father and heard his voice—adamant that his soul is not at rest. She believes his intrusion is tied to the fact that the family has neglected to have a headstone erected for his grave, but her siblings are not persuaded.

  Will the Reed family gain a greater sense of respect for the dead after their lives are almost ruined, or will they remain headstrong and continue to sink deeper into torment.

  1

  “Dad, hang on! We’re almost there!” Toby cried while two paramedics worked feverishly to save his father’s life. The blaring sound of the ambulance roared through the night en route to the hospital after the distraught call came in for help at 3:33 A.M. The call was made from the home of thirty-five-year-old Toby Reed and his wife, Jonie.

  Harvey Reed was having a major heart attack and the look in his eyes portrayed a firm reality to the youngest of his four children that the end was indeed near. Seated with him at the back of the ambulance, Toby feared the grim possibility that this may be the last few moments he’d get to spend with his dad.

  The patriarch of the Reed family had been staying with his son and daughter-in-law after having suffered a debilitating stroke months earlier. His six-room single storey house he’d built with his own bare hands remained vacant during that time, regularly checked on by either Toby or Jonie. Toby was honored to take his father in to ensure he was well cared for since there was only so much Harvey was able to do for himself. His right arm was crippled, his speech slurred and he had been confined to a wheelchair—a stark difference from the strong, independent man he used to be.

  Toby and Jonie were convinced that Harvey had worked himself into the ground after his beloved wife Marilyn—Marry, as Harvey affectionately called her—passed away unexpectedly just eighteen months earlier. Harvey had been a skilled carpenter all of his seventy-four years, and Marry had worked as a seamstress from the time she learned the skill at age sixteen, and continued working until she died at age seventy-two. Toby had always admired his parents’ hard work and dedication to their family. However, as hard as they worked, they never managed to amass much of anything other than their house and a secondhand car here and there as they needed one, particularly in the earlier days while they had four young children to raise. When they each turned sixty-five, they lost the health insurance coverage they’d paid faithfully to the same company for more than forty years, but Marry had managed to hold on to a small life insurance coverage of nine thousand dollars for her funeral expenses.

  Harvey’s eyes slowly rolled back in his head and Toby heard the pulsating beeps which monitored his heart turn to that one solid, worrisome sound.

  “He’s flatlined!” One of the paramedics grabbed the defibrillator.

  Toby watched as they attempted to shock his heart. “Dad, come back!” he cried. “You can’t leave me now!”

  The entire scene inside the ambulance seemed surreal to Toby.

  Harvey Reed never woke up.

  He was pronounced dead at 3:59 AM.

  2

  The 14th of March was bound to be unforgettable for Toby. It was the day he, along with his siblings, had the task of burying their father—a man Toby loved and revered.

  Jonie Reed held her husband’s hand as they stood at the graveside under an emerald-green tent labeled, Live Again Mortuary. Toby had been sobbing during the entire hour-long service next to his sisters, Rachelle and Belinda, and their brother, John. John was the eldest of the Reed children; Belinda followed and Rachelle trailed two years behind her.

  “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return,” Reverend Raymond Barton uttered as he lightly tossed a mini shovel of dirt on top of the coffin. “Ashes to ashes; dust to dust.”

  Belinda wailed as the finality of their father’s passing was boldly realized.

  Funeral attendants took their place on both narrow sides of the coffin and slowly lowered it into the grave. John looked on somberly behind his clear eyeglasses. Rachelle was quietly sobbing as Belinda shouted, “Daddy! Daddy! Don’t leave us; we can’t live without you!” Tears were streaming down her face, and inside—in the face of his own grief—Toby’s blood was boiling. He found it odd that he could be so grief-stricken and angry at the same time, wanting nothing more than for the funeral to end and for he and Jonie to get as far away from his siblings as they possibly could. Yet, he knew the repast was next and they were expected to attend. However, even a few minutes of quiet time between the service and the repast for him would suffice.

  They walked over to their Oldsmobile while his siblings were chauffeured back to their father’s house in a SUV provided by the funeral home. Earlier that morning, John, Belinda and Rachelle had all driven to their dad’s house, where the SUV had been waiting with two funeral employees seated up front. Since Toby lived much farther away, he and Jonie decided they’d drive on their own to the funeral.

  After sitting behind the wheel of his car, Toby sighed heavily. Feeling his pain, Jonie leaned over from the passenger seat and gave him a hug. She knew he was hurting in more ways than one. As other vehicles pulled out of the graveyard, Toby slammed his hand onto the steering wheel, then lowered his head and cried.

  “It’s okay, honey. Your dad’s in a much better place now,” Jonie said, tenderly.

  For a while, Toby held her without saying a word. Her being there was enough.

  “I’m okay,” he finally said, drying his face with his hands. “I just can’t believe he’s actually gone. He meant so much to me, Jonie.”

  “I know that, honey.” She helped dry his tears. “And what’s even more important is he knows that and he’ll always be with you in spirit, looking out for you. He’s now your guardian angel.”

  Embracing the idea, Toby nodded. He cleared his throat, determined to compose himself, then started the car.

  As they headed onto the main road, Jonie shifted a little his way, “Could you believe Belinda? She could’ve dropped right in that grave along with your dad. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.”

  Toby shook his head. “You know, our good neighbor, Matt, across the street once told me that the one making the most noise at a funeral is usually the guiltiest. Don’t know if that’s true in all cases, but it sure as hell’s true in our case.”

  Jonie crossed her legs. “She couldn’t stand your father and everyone knows it.”

  “I can’t imagine why—other than the fact that he wasn’t the one to spoil her rotten and allow her to get her way when we were kids. Mom did a great job at that and filled her head with nonsense at the same time.”

  “What kind of nonsense?”

  “Well, Mom was like this—Belinda and John could commit murder and she’d expect Dad to turn a blind
eye, but he wasn’t that type of person. You know how he was; he called a spade a spade and it didn’t matter what anyone thought about it.”

  “That’s what I admired about him the most,” Jonie replied. “You couldn’t get more real than he was. Yet, he wasn’t nasty about it.”

  The car crept up to a stoplight at an intersection. Toby would soon need to make a right turn toward Eagers Terrace where his dad’s house was.

  Toby looked at his wife. “Sometimes when Dad disciplined Belinda and John, Mom would say some unkind things about him behind his back. I witnessed it quite a few times.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “From what I could tell, that’s why Belinda and John didn’t care for him that much. Seemed to me like Mom was happy as long as she got their affection all to herself. Seems crazy or psychotic, but…it’s true.”

  “So, then why all the hollering at the funeral?” Jonie was perplexed. “You think Belinda might really feel guilty about how she treated your dad?”

  “Nope. Belinda doesn’t have much of a conscience,” Toby replied. “It was all a show for our relatives who were in attendance.”

  “Oh yeah. And John seemed quite calm, cool and collected the whole while.”

  “Are you surprised about that?”

  The light turned green and Toby made the turn toward Eagers Terrace.

  “I just know that if my dad died—any of my parents for that matter—I won’t be standing around the grave looking like I’d rather be somewhere else more fun,” Jonie remarked.

  “That one’s cold as ice.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Minutes later, Toby pulled in front of his parents’ home—a light yellow house with white trimming. John’s brand-new Mercedes Benz CLS was on the carport and Belinda’s BMW was parked behind it. He didn’t see any sign of Rachelle’s sedan, but other vehicles were already there as well and some were pulling up behind Toby’s.

  “I imagine by now they’ve all been dropped off by the SUV,” Jonie said as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

  “Guess so.”

  Toby got out of the car, walked around to his wife’s side and opened her door.

  “Thank you, honey.” She took his hand with a brief smile. “Some people don’t believe you still open the car door for me after all these years.”

  “Really? Who are these people?” He smirked.

  “No one special.”

  “Toby!” he heard someone call behind them.

  A heavyset woman hurried over and embraced him.

  “Aunt Nadine,” Toby replied. “How are you holding up?”

  “Not so good. You know Harvey was my last living sibling, so it’s just me now.”

  Toby saw the sadness in her eyes. Nadine and his father had a bond even though over the years they hadn’t seen very much of each other. Nevertheless, they did communicate by phone a couple of times each week.

  “I know,” Toby answered. He noticed his cousins Marty and Sylvester, Nadine’s twenty-year-old twin sons, slowly heading their way.

  “How are you doing?” Nadine asked Toby.

  “I’m all right,” he said.

  “Are you sure, honey?” She was earnestly concerned.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sure.”

  “I know one thing—you did everything you could for Harvey even before he got sick and you’re gonna get your blessings for that, ya hear?”

  Jonie nodded in agreement, although Nadine had failed to acknowledge her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Toby replied, softly.

  Suddenly, Nadine took notice. “Jonie! My goodness! Please pardon my horrible manners. Give Aunt Nadine a big hug!”

  Marty and Sylvester shook Toby’s and Jonie’s hands and expressed their condolences.

  Nadine’s sons, whom she gave birth to beyond what people thought were her childbearing years, were both in their freshman year at a local university and Toby had always thought well of them. They’d lost their dad six months after they were born and their Uncle Harvey had helped his sister financially throughout the years to care for them.

  “I’m surely gonna miss Uncle Harvey,” Marty said.

  “Me too,” Sylvester remarked.

  “I know you will. He was so proud of how you guys turned out,” Toby assured them.

  Nadine’s eyes welled with tears and Toby held her as they walked toward the front door with Jonie at his side.

  When they entered the house, John and Belinda were sitting together on the sofa. Rachelle and her twenty-two-year-old son Steve were seated on the couch next to Susan Watling, a close family friend and her long-term beau, Tyler McMillan. Other relatives and friends were sitting or standing around the living room reminiscing about old times.

  “You children have my deepest sympathy,” Nadine sadly uttered, as she went and sat in their dad’s favorite chair. “Your father was a special man and he will be greatly missed.” She caressed the arm of the chair; tears now streaming down her cheeks. Marty sat next to her while Sylvester went over and gave his cousin, Steve, a hail.

  “Thanks, Aunt Nadine,” John said.

  Rachelle and Belinda thanked her as well.

  Shortly thereafter, both ladies got up and headed into the kitchen where several baking pans covered with aluminum foil and plastic food containers sat on the old beige Formica countertop. Toby could smell the tantalizing aroma of cooked food being warmed on the stove and inside the oven.

  He and Jonie had taken a seat in a couple of empty chairs they’d found next to the sofa where John was.

  “It’s finally said and done, huh?” John said quietly to Toby.

  “Yep. Dad’s in a better place now.” He interlaced his fingers atop his lap.

  John leaned over slightly. “Look…I wanna say what you did for Dad over the past several months was commendable, you know?”

  Toby nodded. “Thanks.”

  “A pity he didn’t have any insurance like Mom did. The little life insurance she took out decades ago was a good help toward her funeral. Got her a nice headstone and everything,” John said.

  “Yep.”

  “Well—everyone pitched in to pull this off today, so…”

  “Uh-huh.” Toby didn’t like the direction the conversation was headed and wondered why John had bothered to bring any of it up, especially right then and there. “Where’s Pam?” He sought to change the subject.

  Pam was John’s wife. She’d kept herself distant from the family for the greater part of their marriage. Seemed sort of reclusive to everyone and Toby often wondered if the couple even slept in the same bed together. Pam did manage to show her face from time to time, such as whenever she and John hosted parties at their house. Then, she’d disappear again for most of the night.

  “She’s a bit under the weather today,” John replied. “Sinus trouble.”

  “I see.” Toby cleared his throat.

  Sitting quietly next to her husband, Jonie felt that same chilly, uninviting atmosphere that greeted her each time they visited the Reed house. She surmised it felt even colder that day, for obvious reasons.

  “I’ll go see if Belinda and Rachelle can use my help,” she said to Toby.

  “Okay, honey.”

  She got up and headed to the kitchen.

  “So, I was thinking, we should probably sell the house,” John told his brother.

  Toby looked at him incredulously. “Do you really think this is a good time to discuss that, John? Dad literally died four days ago and we just buried him.”

  “I think this is as good a time as any,” John countered. “Not like he’s coming back to live here. It’s just good to get things out of the way instead of letting them linger.”

  Toby shook his head. “Well, I’m not up to it right now. We can talk about it later.”

  “He didn’t leave a will, so technically, we all own the house and when it comes to selling, we’ll all have to agree.”

  “I know. Like I said though, I don’t wanna discuss that right now,”
Toby said.

  “Cool.” John got up and headed for the front porch. Outside, he yanked out a cigarette and lit it.

  Toby remained agitated for a while by the conversation John couldn’t seem to resist at a time like this. “Dammit!” he muttered. “Can’t seem to get money off his mind for even a minute!”

  John had escaped for a smoke, but Toby felt like he could use a stiff drink.

  3

  One month later…

  “How’s Toby coping?” Kera Holmes asked her sister.

  “Not so well, I’m afraid,” Jonie replied, rather sadly. She was sitting in the living room across from Kera with a large mug of coffee in hand. Kera, two years her senior, refused to drink coffee after having tried it in her early twenties and swore it completely dried out her otherwise flawless skin.

  “Ever since Mr. Reed died, Toby has been somewhat reclusive and seems so depressed. I suppose that’s understandable since he loved his dad so much,” Jonie went on.

  Kera crossed her legs. “Well, it’s a crying shame how his siblings treated the old man in his last days.”

  “Unfortunately, neither Mr. or Mrs. Reed got any good treatment from that bunch of ungrateful brutes over the years.” Jonie sighed. “Toby and I are barely making ends meet around here and we still sacrificed to care for his father. You would’ve thought at least one of his other three children would’ve stopped by if only to drop off some food for the man to eat or a little something to get him his medication. Toby worked his fingers to the bone, grabbing as many jobs as he could to take care of his dad. The demand for carpenters around these parts over the past year hasn’t been that great and since Toby asked me to leave my job to stay here and look after his dad during the daytime…well—needless to say, more than a little income was taken out of our pockets.”