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Buried Dolls
Buried Dolls
Buried Dolls
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Buried Dolls

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Jody had the misfortune of breaking her ankle. The only available apartment to convalesce in is a derelict mansion just outside of town. The tenants prefer to keep to themselves except when sneaking strange dolls into her rooms. Suffering from loss of memory after a horrific event destroyed her biological family, Jody clutches at straws trying to find out who she is and why some people in the house leave her clues to get out or get murdered. Find out if Jody regains her memory, what happened to her family and who, among her friends, is actually her enemy, working to see her killed.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 22, 2016
ISBN9781487407131
Buried Dolls

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    Book preview

    Buried Dolls - Lynn Hones

    Jody had the misfortune of breaking her ankle. The only available apartment to convalesce in is a derelict mansion just outside of town. The tenants prefer to keep to themselves except when sneaking strange dolls into her rooms. Suffering from loss of memory after a horrific event destroyed her biological family, Jody clutches at straws trying to find out who she is and why some people in the house leave her clues to get out or get murdered. Find out if Jody regains her memory, what happened to her family and who, among her friends, is actually her enemy, working to see her killed.

    The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

    Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

    This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

    Buried Dolls

    Copyright © 2016 Lynn Hones

    ISBN: 978-1-4874-0713-1

    Cover art by Martine Jardin

    All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

    Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

    Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

    Look for us online at:

    www.eXtasybooks.com or www.devinedestinies.com

    Smashwords Edition

    Buried Dolls

    By

    Lynn Hones

    Dedication

    To My Good Friend, Beckwa

    Prologue

    It was hot, she knew that much, and her dress scratched her skin. She wanted it all to be over. She was afraid. More afraid than the rest of them. They all looked forward to their new beginning, no matter how painful it would be. Not only painful but frightening and cruel. No, she wanted nothing to do with any of it. Her mother wanted nothing to do with it either and screamed when her turn came. Madame Morority told her to calm herself. It would all be over soon.

    Mama, she had yelled out. Mama, no...

    Chapter One

    This is the part where you shoot me in the heart with a Carbine, right? Jody asked.

    Yes, Mr. Rutherford answered, his eyes swilling with antagonism. And then I’ll mummify your body in a barrel of brine.

    I can handle that, Jody said. Just don’t stick a party hat on my moldy skull and plop me in front of a decaying birthday cake with the rest of your unwitting victims.

    Jody liked Mr. Rutherford. He got her. Not many people did. That part of their meeting appealed to her. Standing on the ornately decorated back porch of his large home didn’t. It enveloped her chilled body with an epic sense of the creeps.

    Ya gotta admit, she said, this house could make the top ten pick of America’s Most Haunted. With that she shivered. How much is the rent again?

    Well, he rubbed his scruffy gray beard with a beefy hand, normally I charge seven hundred a month, plus first month and security, but since you’re such a sorry little thing, what with that hunchback and that strange third eye growin’ in the middle of your forehead... how does six hundred grab ya, with no security for now?

    That grabs me just fine.

    It was dark out, and the isolated home had a single bulb on the porch that shed enough light for her to write him a check with a shaking hand. She tucked her long, blonde hair behind her ears and wondered if her shaking was due to cold or an unusual sense of foreboding. She rubbed her turned up nose and sneezed as she handed him the check with a wink and thanked him with a smile.

    It’s a good thing your friend called when he did, Mr. Rutherford said. I was on my way to The Bucks Inn for a brew. If he’d called once I had my suds in front of me, I never would have driven back here to see ya.

    I really appreciate this. Really—you have no idea.

    Jody’s old apartment, where she had lived since being given her freedom, was being torn down. She realized how awful the place was once she heard of the impending demolition. Before that, it was simply home.

    I have two days to get a place and most people want those pesky references and credit checks. It’s none of their business I don’t flush every time I should.

    I don’t flush, and between you and me, I’ve never mummified a body, he said. I was joshin’ round ‘bout that.

    The minute I laid eyes on you, Jody said, I knew you weren’t a flusher or a flosser for that matter. And sorry for the getup. She glanced down at herself.

    Hey, you look normal to me. Cuties with freckles like you can get away with anything. People ‘round here wouldn’t blink an eye, or three. He pointed to the fake plastic eye glued to the middle of her forehead. Move in anytime. Just don’t make too much noise. Mrs. Crimson isn’t fond of it.

    Yeah, okay. You said she’s the old dame below me, right?

    That’d be her.

    Trust me, I’ll be quiet as a mouse.

    Jody walked down the crooked wooden steps of the house, along the driveway and through a tall, ornate metal gate stretched across it. Her friends were waiting in the car as she hopped into the passenger seat.

    Well? Porter asked in a faded, water-colored Parisian accent. Tall and thin with wispy, black hair, he looked the part of a French starving artist/art teacher. What happened?

    It’s mine, Jody said triumphantly.

    Great. He put the car in reverse.

    In the back seat, dressed as a vampire, her friend, Sienna, blanched. So you’re really going to rent this place? It’s so big.

    Jody turned to look into the back seat at her friend. I don’t get the whole house, just a second floor apartment. It’s cut up into five units. And it’s only creepy cuz it’s night. She then noticed the truck.

    Mr. Rutherford’s wretched pickup truck, with no hubcaps and painted a bright green, blocked the end of the driveway.

    Damn, I forgot he’s got to let us out, Jody said. But, he’s coming. He’s on his way to some bar called The Buckstop, or something, for some beer. She craned her neck to look for him. Where is he?

    I don’t know, Porter said. He tapped the steering wheel irritatingly with his fingers. But I’d like some brews myself. The party started an hour ago, and knowing these young frat boys, half the keg’s already gone. He turned to look behind him.

    You’re too old for these parties, anyway, Sienna said and then laughed.

    Maybe so, but some of us never want to grow up... or grow old, he said. They both laughed, but Jody didn’t find it humorous enough to bring forth even the slightest amusement.

    Sienna rolled her window down and looked out. Can you go around him?

    I don’t know, Porter said. Argh. Why is it always something? He got out and, hands on his hips, pivoted left then right. No, they got this driveway cornered off like Fort Knox. I’ll go look for him.

    Jody reluctantly got out, too. Together, she and Porter walked up to the house that was in need of a good scraping and painting.

    They spotted Mr. Rutherford in the back yard. Kneeling. What was he doing kneeling? What the... Porter whispered.

    What’s he doing? Jody asked, confused. She moved closer to Porter.

    Looks like he’s pulling weeds, Porter said, sounding slightly muddled.

    I know, but why? It’s, like, almost midnight.

    Do you honestly think I know? Porter cleared his throat loudly, which obviously shocked the old man because he looked up, put his cap back on his balding head and stood.

    Hello. Mr. Rutherford, it’s me, Jody. Your truck’s blocking the drive. We’re on our way to that Halloween party and we’re late.

    Oh, yeah. That’s right. Sorry. I’ll be right there.

    Thanks. She and Porter turned and ambled back to the car.

    You sure you want to live here? he asked out of the corner of his mouth. I mean, wow that was weird.

    He seems like such a nice guy, though. Maybe he buried his dog there or something and he was paying his respects.

    Something tells me the old coot didn’t bury his dead animals but stuffed ’em and has ’em displayed in his parlor.

    Parlor? Jody asked with a smirk.

    What else would you call it in a house like this? I looked in the window.

    They got back into the car, and Mr. Rutherford walked by. I’ll be out of your way in a flash.

    She heard his motor start up and his headlights spilled into their car like mock daylight as he pulled out. As they drove away, Jody hoped she’d done the right thing. But she was in a bind. She needed a place right away.

    A lone light shone in the downstairs rooms. She knew those to be Mrs. Crimson’s. What appeared to be candlelight danced in one of the third floor windows, but didn’t know who was above her. She also knew she’d have to get used to the old bag hitting her ceiling with a broom because she was playing her music or television too loud. There’s always one.

    As they figured, the party was in full swing when they arrived. So many interesting costumes, Jody couldn’t pick a favorite. A guy dressed as a patient with an oozing stomach wound ran around hugging people. He was with a guy dressed in a hospital gown with his plastic fanny showing.

    Porter walked up with a red cup of beer.

    Ah, my drink. Thanks, Jody said.

    Man, this party is crowded. I don’t even know half these people.

    What’s that on your shirt? she asked.

    Oh, this red stuff? I got hugged by the wound. He promised me it would come out.

    Dude better stay away from me, or I’ll give him something to bleed about.

    Jody, Sienna yelled out. Come on. Let’s dance.

    No, I’m cool. Thanks. She lifted her cup in a suds salute. Maybe later.

    Porter stared Sienna’s way. Who’s that she’s dancing with? he asked.

    Jody smiled as she watched her friend have a good time. She leaned into Porter to be heard. I haven’t got a clue. She took a big gulp of beer. So how did you meet this guy? You know, the one whose party this is, and told you about the house for rent.

    I met him this past summer. He was a student of mine at Kingston College. He seemed cool, so when he told me he has a killer Halloween party every year, I thought why not.

    I want to thank him. Which one is he?

    To be honest, I don’t know. I’m thinking he might be that mummy Sienna’s dancing with. He craned his neck. He searched the crowd.

    Well, thank him for me when you do see him and... I sure could use another beer, Jody said. She handed him her cup with an impish grin.

    Sienna and Porter laughed hysterically as Jody danced with a guy dressed as a clown. Too many beers, however, caused the floor to feel as if it bent on its axis, which caused her to lose her balance and fall. The only problem, the clown landed on top of her leg and the minute she heard the snap, she knew—her ankle had been broken.

    Chapter Two

    With the help of Sienna and Porter, Jody made her way up the front steps of the large home. Step by agonizing step they steadied her so she didn’t put any pressure on her ankle. Inside, they looked around and marveled at the parlor they were in.

    For the love of... Jody couldn’t finish. She was too busy taking it all in. Dark wooded walls and ceilings created a claustrophobic ambiance that held marvelous items. It was too much to take in all at once, but her eyes quickly shifted over to the stuffed bear. Over eight feet tall, its claws, jagged and sharp, poised for whatever lay ahead of it. Next to that was an entire wall covered in books, some sort of strange library of huge, leather bound volumes with a ladder to reach the higher shelves. She advanced further, forgetting for a moment that she was balancing precariously on crutches and lost her equilibrium.

    I’m going down, she said. Mirth mingled with fear floated together in her words and Porter caught her just in time. She almost landed on a round display case in the middle of the room containing hundreds of butterflies. Species she never even knew existed lay dead under glass. I never knew there were furry butterflies, Jody said to Sienna out of the side of her mouth.

    How many of those pain pills have you taken? Sienna asked.

    Too many I guess. Jody giggled.

    This is incredible, Porter said as he swung his head around. Look at all this−this−stuff. He smiled broadly. I love it.

    Everything did have the essence of the incredibly eerie, but the creepiest of all were all the dolls. Dolls placed around the room on shelves stared at them. The problem was, all the dolls seemed to be staring right at her.

    Quit staring at me, Jody said, goofily.

    Mr. Rutherford made his way into the room.

    What−what’s with all the dolls, Mr. Rutherford? I mean most people don’t like them to begin with, but you have them lined up on shelves around the room, Sienna said.

    I’m a doll maker, he said proudly. I’ve been making and selling dolls for years now. It’s basically how I make my living.

    They’re only here, right? Jody asked. You don’t have any in my apartment do you? I know it’s furnished, but I really don’t want it to be furnished with dolls. She giggled helplessly and apologized.

    Don’t you worry, he said. They’re only in this here room and in my apartment. Mrs. Crimson, and Mrs. Junhuton like some of them, too.

    He wiped his dirt filled hands on his coveralls and smiled. Sorry for the mess. I was out back gardening. He searched his pockets. I suppose you’re ready for that key and to start moving in. Sorry I couldn’t get you a downstairs apartment, but they’re filled.

    No, that’s fine. The second floor will be okay for the first few weeks. I’m really not supposed to walk on my ankle, anyway. My friends will get me upstairs then move in my stuff, if that’s okay.

    Fine by me.

    Since being let out of the hospital, Jody had

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