Chasing Clowns: A Novel (Girl Clown Hatchet Suspense Series Book 2)

by Mav Skye

  It was a touchy subject between Chloe and Tanya. They swung on different vines when it came to politics. They didn’t believe in letting politics come between them, so instead they joked and prodded each other, sticking to comments about who had the worst hairdo and whether it was worse to be a “pussy grabber” and admit it or to be married to one and defend his actions.

  Chloe wondered what it’d must have been like to live in a time when people used common sense, intuition and personal values to make decisions rather than let the persuasive manipulation tactics of the internet and social media guide them. A person could rise or be destroyed through whatever lie the media came up with and decided that you needed to like (or unlike.) Miley Cyrus’s tongue and twerk were proof of these.

  The internet hadn’t yet made its debut when Chloe was younger. People still had personal phone lines, subscribed to cable magazines, and, without a Siri to ask, read encyclopedias for questions about outer space and ancient Egypt. She wished she could remember those days, and asked her aunt about it.

  The easy chit chat relaxed Chloe, and as they pulled into her neighbor’s drive, she knew that for now, tonight, everything would be just fine.

  Wes pulled the moving van out onto the street while Chloe and her aunt chitchatted in the driveway. The real estate agent had arranged for someone to do some cleaning before the house was rented out again.

  The morning had been spent cleaning up odds and ends, and saying goodbye to their friendly neighbors. The day was full of warm sunshine, which wasn’t unusual for Clover Spring, a small town north of Santa Rosa.

  Flip Flop, their giant Rhodesian Ridgeback, sat in the back of Chloe’s Toyota SUV, hanging his head over the seat and licking Chev in the ear while he played Fruit Ninja on Chloe’s Kindle. Shayla, who was no longer puking, opted to ride with her dad in the moving truck.

  Tanya had made arrangements to fly down in a few days after she took care of things at her law firm. She would stay in a nice hotel close to their new place.

  Chloe gave her aunt one last squeeze, and Wes honked the horn on the moving truck. “It’s now or never, ladies!”

  Chloe and Tanya chuckled.

  Tanya said, “He’s excited.”

  Chloe said, “Yes, yes he is.”

  Tanya said, “Have you thought about getting out of law enforcement? Helping the poor guy out in the kitchen?”

  Chloe laughed. “Next you’ll be suggesting I stay home and clean, barefoot and pregnant.”

  “Now, now, I thought Wes could do that too.”

  The women burst out laughing.

  Chloe touched Tanya’s arm. “Elogi, you’re awful. Just awful.”

  “I’m a lawyer. Awful is part of my job description.”

  Chloe put an arm around her aunt’s shoulders and teased, “The truth hurts.”

  Tanya said, “Not as bad as your cooking hurts.”

  Chloe giggled. “Agreed. My cooking tastes like shit.”

  “It’s decided then, leave the cooking to Wes.” They both laughed again, and Wes honked the horn.

  They gave each other one last hug, before Chloe hopped into the car, and Tanya shut the door. Chev hung out his window waving at her all the way down the block screaming, “Bye!” as long as he could.

  She followed Wes out onto the highway, and they settled in for a long drive to Spindler The plan was to stay overnight in Medford, Oregon, then continue on their way the next day up to Washington.

  Chloe felt good, she and Chev spent the time telling ghost stories, singing with the radio, playing eye-spy. Occasionally, Flip Flop would bark as if he was involved in the game, too and at one point he clambered over the backseat and curled up like a kitten next to Chev.

  Chev kept calling Shayla on Facetime and making weird faces every time she answered, which resulted in Chloe having to take away the cell. He kept finding it and calling Shayla anyway, thinking it was the funniest game ever until at the next pit stop, Wes stepped in and took the cell back to the moving truck.

  At a gas station, Chloe found a .99 cent rack cd’s containing old time radio mystery programs. She bought ten of them, and that seemed to occupy Chev’s mind through the evening until they stopped at Medford, Oregon after midnight.

  The next morning, everyone was committed to the long drive and there was considerable less asking to pee at the next rest stop from the children, which put them right on time when they drove through Seattle about 9PM. Spindler was only an hour or so North, and as they drew closer, Chloe was surprised to recognize the area. Nothing specifically, but the smell of rain, the mountains and the deep, green valleys felt like home to her.

  It was a comforting feeling, like she was supposed to have been here and never left.

  They pulled into the drive of their newly rented house a little after 10 pm. The agent had left the keys under the front door mat, just like she had promised. Wes dragged sleeping bags, pillows and backpacks inside while the kids argued over which bedroom they wanted. Chloe took Flip Flop out for a walk in their new neighborhood.

  The houses on their block looked well kept. The lawns were mowed and pumpkins sat out on porches. One place was decked out with “graves” and ghosts in the yard with a witch flying her broom on top of her house. Halloween wasn’t quite the same anywhere else than in Washington. People went all out to show their support for the pagan holiday and in all honesty, it was one of Chloe’s favorite holidays too.

  On the next block, the well taken care of lawns and tidy homes ended. Trailers replaced houses, old trucks sat on the side of the road with flat tires and broken windows. A faded and ripped punching bag lay in a ditch.

  An old lovebug with flat tires sat out in the street like a corpse. The road backed up to woods. Trash littered the bushes. Sheets lined an old trailer window, and the sound of a woman laughing filled the night. Chloe unleashed the dog. The giant dog sniffed around for a while, Chloe scolded him once when he picked up an old diaper under some brush, then promptly dropped it and chose an old minivan with missing tires to pee on. Afterward, he trotted back to her and they turned around to walk home.

  The burned-out shell of a trailer moldered in the tall grass. As they approached, Chloe heard the snap of noise from inside. Flip Flop pointed and growled.

  Chloe spooked, too.

  She hushed Flip Flop and ushered him down the street, not wanting to look at the trailer, afraid of what she’d see. She had that strange sensation she’d get when a hallucination or an old memory would strike, Flip Flop growled and kept trying to look back at the trailer as they walked.

  It was then that she heard it.

  Footsteps behind her.

  Chloe turned and looked. She saw nothing, but Flip Flop growled again.

  “Shush, there’s nothing there.” She rested a hand on his giant head to calm him, then continued down the street.

  She heard the footsteps again.

  Instead of stopping, she kept walking, taking quick peeks behind them. There was nothing but shadows.

  She walked quicker, Flip Flop having no choice but to keep pace.

  She knew that there was no way Flip Flop would ever let anyone hurt her, and yet she felt that whatever was following them was not of physical form.

  The quicker she walked, the quicker the footsteps behind her, and before she knew it she was in an all-out run.

  When she saw the moving van, she slowed to a walk. The sound of footsteps faded, and she felt embarrassed at being so afraid. Outside the new house, she paused to catch her breath. The curtains in the living room were drawn back, and she could see Chev and Shayla smashing each other with pillows. Their happiness and light beamed through the window to the darkness outside. The light sat just out of her reach.

  Flip Flop whined beside her, looking down the street. Chloe stared out into the darkness. A flickering streetlight caught her eye, and for a moment she saw a clown with a hatchet waving at her from the shadows.

  Chloe blinked, and he was gone.

  There was
no one out there, only the streetlights and a sliver of a moon. Chloe realized that once again she was being paranoid.

  Flip Flop whined again, and she thought that the dog was reflecting her own fear. “Did you hear those footsteps, too?”

  Flip Flop rested his giant face against her hipbone, and she stroked his long ears.

  After a few seconds, they went inside to join the family. Two bags of popcorn later, the kids quieted and they all nestled down in their sleeping bags and slept.

  3

  First Things First

  THE NEXT FEW WEEKS WERE BUSY for everyone. Tanya moved down and helped the family unpack and hang pictures. They enrolled the kids in school, bought them cool weather clothing, and involved Chev (Shayla would rather die) in sports. Tanya had even taken the liberty to enroll Flip Flop with Puppy Mania to play with other pooches during the day.

  Chloe easily slipped into her new position as parole officer. She was delighted to find Captain Ben a gentle old soul. He filled her in on the parolees. She kept her therapy appointments with Doctor Morgan over Skype as promised, though the sessions had slowed to once every two weeks, instead of every week due to the busy family schedule.

  Wes was obsessed with his restaurant and the unexpected renovations, so much so, that Chloe asked Tanya to stay an extra few weeks to help out with the kids as they all adjusted to their new lives.

  As before, all was well and good as Chloe did her homework, reviewing case files and learning about her parolees, but nothing could prepare her for who she was about to meet.

  Part II

  Her Fear Diary

  I dreamed of a red balloon rising in the sky. It rose higher and higher. When it disappeared behind a cloud, thunder roared, and the earth shook. The clouds turned dark, and it rained blood. Blood streamed down the streets, washing children away. A black serpent with horns swam amongst the fear and the fallen.

  When I saw it, I didn’t feel afraid. I called out for the horned serpent. It didn’t hear me as it sank below the stream of blood, but it did whisper three words. Unleash the beast!

  His Journal

  Met a chick at the bar.

  I buy her a martini: vodka, extra dirty and stirred.

  She says, what do you do?

  I say, I clown at the Greatest Show on Earth.

  She says, the big top?

  I say, sure, wanna see it?

  She smiles, rolls her eyes.

  She says, did you run away with the circus?

  No, but you’ve ran away with my heart.

  She says, Stop clowning around.

  I say, I can’t. Haven’t you seen the size of my shoes?

  She glances down at my feet. Her eyebrows go up, and she looks at me. I can tell she’s curious.

  I say, you know what they say about guys with comically large shoes?

  Her eyebrows shoot up higher, and her mouth lifts at the corners. She’s got dimples.

  The waiter brings the lady her drink. She pops an olive in her mouth.

  I say, how would you like to play Mrs. Jingles for a night?

  She glances at her drink, runs her slim finger along the rim of the glass. Where?

  At the second greatest show on earth.

  She giggles and tucks her hair behind her ear. I notice her earrings, little dinosaurs.

  They remind me of her earrings. Suddenly, you know, I’m not feeling it anymore.

  I’m not a carnie, she says.

  I say, But, I made you laugh.

  She shakes her head. No, you bought me a drink. But here’s your chance, clown, make me laugh. Make me laugh, and I’ll let you show me your big top.

  I smile, though I don’t feel like smiling anymore. I say, What did one cannibal say to the other after eating a clown?

  She shrugs.

  I say, This taste funny to you?

  The chick broke into a full out laugh.

  I chuckle, too, then put a bill on the counter and get up to leave.

  She puts a hand on my shoulder. Where are you going? She smiles, her dimples lighting up again. Don’t tell me you have performance anxiety?

  I laugh.

  She laughs with me, twirls her hair.

  I say, the clown has left the building.

  She frowns.

  I leave and make for the underground.

  I smoke all night. Drink. Play Zepplin.

  But all I think about is her, and the King of Monsters.

  4

  Lost and Found

  ORANGE LEAVES FLUTTERED ON THE UNMARKED Crown Vic as Chloe reviewed Sammy Johnson’s files once again. Satisfied, she tucked her Moleskine notebook into her coat pocket. She realized she was still wearing her wedding ring and slipped it off into her pocket as well. It was better for criminals not to see she was married. All it took to lose your family was a tweaked out criminal set on revenge. She’d heard horror stories. Chloe scolded herself for forgetting to leave her ring at home and took one more sip of her Starbucks before stepping out of the car. The wind whipped at the loose bun in her hair, and she tucked escaped strands behind her ears as she sauntered up Sammy Johnson’s porch and knocked on the door.

  Pale yellow paint chipped off the side of the house, the porch bleached from the sun. Plain white curtains hung from the window by the door.

  She heard a commotion inside, voices, and finally, the door opened. A slender young woman held a baby on her hip. Her hair was choppy, pitch-black with chunks of neon pink. Giant black hoops dangled from her heavily pierced ears. Her skin was pale and the purple makeup on her sky blue eyes emphasized the tired rings beneath them. She wore a white V-neck shirt with a sugar skull. By the looks of it, the baby had just dumped something green down the front of it. “Yeah?”

  Chloe held out her hand. “I’m Officer Jackson, Sammy’s new parole officer.”

  “Jill, Sammy’s sister.” When Jill reached out her hand, Chloe spotted a delicate tattoo of a black serpent biting its tail on the underside of her wrist.

  The women shook hands, and the baby reached out, too.

  Jill said, “This is Jacob.”

  Chloe and Jill both laughed when Chloe shook his plump hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Jacob.”

  The baby babbled, and Jill waved Chloe in. “Don’t mind the mess. Jacob started crawling two weeks ago, and the place has been destroyed ever since.” She glanced down at her shirt and picked up a wet washrag off the end table and began to scrub at the green stain. “And my clothing.” Jill glanced up from her shirt mid-swipe. “Excuse my manners, can I get you anything? Coffee or water?”

  Chloe shook her head. “Oh, no, but thanks. How old is he?”

  Jill turned back to wiping her shirt. Jacob kept leaning over and chewing on the wet rag. It was a useless endeavor. “Nine months and teething—” Jill tried to pull the rag out of the baby’s death grip. “Jacob, let mommy have it.”

  Chloe sat in a chair across the way from Jill. “Is Sammy here? I was hoping to catch him.”

  “Oh, nah, he’s at work.” Jill gave up and let the baby have the washrag. He gurgled happily with it in his mouth. Jill smoothed Jacob’s fine hair back and kissed him on top of the head.

  Chloe said, “His boss called me earlier and said he hasn’t been in for two days.”

  “Oh,” Jill glanced up at her, then away. “Well, he’s been coming and going at the usual hours. I wouldn’t know where he’d be if not at work.”

  Chloe could tell Jill was lying, and pulled a cliché but useful tactic. “Really? That’s too bad, because…” She pulled out her Moleskine notebook and flipped through a couple of pages, examining them as if they were the bible of all rules and regulations. “The law is pretty tight when it comes to parolees skipping out on work without informing their officer. If you can’t tell me where he is, and if I can’t find him, I’ll have to notify the parole board. He’ll be back in prison quicker than you can say John Jacob Jingleheimer—”

  Jill cut her off, “He’s at his best friend’s, AJ Martinez�
� house.”

  “Oh?”

  Jill bounced the slobbering baby on her lap. Jacob had dropped the wet rag on the floor and was now attempting to pull down her shirt. “I don’t know what they’re up to, but I know AJ isn’t the best of influences.”

  Jacob paused in the act of pulling Jill’s shirt, and looked up at his mother with his giant blue eyes. He then grabbed her hooped earring and tugged, dragging Jill’s head down as he stuffed the hoop into his mouth.

  Chloe cringed.

  “Hey, ow!” Jill attempted to untangle her baby’s hands from the hoop.

  “Um…”

  Jill freed herself, and stood the baby up on his feet. She blew on his cheek and said, “Don’t pull Mommy’s earrings no more.” Jacob giggled and grabbed her cheeks, pinching them between his fat fingers.

  Chloe winced. “Would you mind giving me AJ’s address?”

  Jill peeked around the baby’s face. “Oh sure, I’ve got it on my cell in the kitchen.”

  Jacob grabbed his mother’s earring again and yanked. “Ouch!” Jill’s head whipped to the side, and she grabbed at his slippery fingers.

  Chloe stood. “Here, let me…”

  Jill turned so Chloe could unleash the baby’s talons from their treasure and Chloe offered to hold Jacob.

  Jill gladly handed him over and rushed to the kitchen, grateful to escape her son’s ruthless clutches.

  Chloe bounced the baby on her knee, hoping to get a smile. Jacob had gone all but silent, staring at her with his big blue eyes, then hiccupped. She put him up on her shoulder and patted his back like she used to do Chev.

  He burped loudly as Jill came back in with her cell and copied the address on a piece of mail advertising that showed a dead toddler sprawled across the glossy paper with the words, DON’T LET YOUR BABY DIE. VACCINATE NOW.

  Jill glanced up as she was writing. “Of course he’s good as puddin’ when you hold him.”