An Unexpected Visitor: The Origin

By Dennis Renner

Kattrina Walsh did not know what was lurking in her past. She did not know it was searching for her and she did not know it would find her. But she had to protect her friends and find a way to escape the nightmare that pursued her. Assaulted and kidnapped, her pursuer had her in its clutches and the chase was on. As her friends and the authorities followed clues, she slowly learned the hidden secrets of her past which would lead her to an uncertain future.

This is Book One of a Three book Series

Excerpt: HIS MUSCLES TENSED, Kemper Walsh stood ready on the back porch searching the woods behind the house for the slightest movement. The sun had risen and was shining brightly but the occasional cumulus cloud brought deep shadows to the forest. His finger tight on the Winchester trigger, he waited. His senses of sight and sound consumed him and for the moment, he only existed for what he saw and heard.
“That damn thing is out there again,” he thought, “I can just feel it.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dennis Renner
• Release date: May 20, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463543511

Dennis Renner

Dennis E. Renner is an author currently residing in Fenton, Missouri, a suburb of St. Louis with his Wife Cassandra. Dennis is also a performing musician and an advocate of all in nature. His hobbies include hiking in Colorado, Missouri and anywhere else he can find an interesting trail. He is a musician of over 50 years and performs regularly in the St. Louis area. He is unique storyteller, most of which are based on personal experiences.

Book preview

An Unexpected Visitor

The Saga of Kattrina Walsh

BOOK ONE

A Novel by

Dennis E. Renner

Copyright 2017 Dennis E. Renner

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This is a work of fiction, although based on actual locales; names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One - June 3,1975

Chapter Two - June 7, 2014

Chapter Three - October 12, 1976

Chapter Four - June 13, 1995

Chapter Five - June 14, 1995

Chapter Six - June 14, 1995

Chapter Seven - June 14, 1995

Chapter Eight - June 11, 2014

Chapter Nine - June 12, 2014

Chapter Ten - Evening - June 10, 2014

Chapter Eleven - June 17 - 2:30 am

Chapter Twelve - June 18, 1995

Chapter Thirteen - June 18, 1995 - 8:30 p.m.

Chapter Fourteen - June 19, 1995

Chapter Fifteen - June 19, 1995

Chapter Sixteen - June 19, 1995

Chapter Seventeen - June 19, 1995

Chapter Eighteen - June 19, 1995

Chapter Nineteen - June 19, 1995

Chapter Twenty - June 20th, 1995

Chapter Twenty One - June 21st, 1995

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Epilogue

Chapter One

June 3,1975

MOMMY! Mooommmmyyy!! Mommy, let me out! Her young voice filled the closet. Mom. Her voice gradually dwindled to a whisper. Mommy. It was barely a murmur now, Please let me out."

The cries went unheard. There was no one close enough to detect the little girl voice through the heavy oak door. Her was Dad, standing motionless on the back porch, facing the dense woods behind the small farmhouse, peering into the underbrush. A fully loaded shotgun in hand, he remained intent, on edge and focused. Her Mom guarded the front door, looking in all directions, ready to call her husband if she noticed anything.

I don’t wanna stay in the dark no more, she said to the darkness. Still, no one heard the plaintive cry. It was as if her voice went nowhere, as though it hung in the void, only to be absorbed by the darkness.

From under the door, a thin streak of light crept across the floor, barely illuminating her prison. As her eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness, she stared at the worn brass doorknob, she knew it was locked. Kattrina sat with her back to the wall, the clothes hanging above lightly touching her head, clutching her stuffed kitty, the pungent smell off mothballs surrounding her. She contemplated the doorknob, wishing it would turn and that the door would open. The odor of old moldy wood, mingled with the musty aroma of wool winter coats and the spicy smell of her daddy’s leather boots, filling the cramped space. She rose to her knees, reaching for the doorknob, eyes watching a little hand as it extended slowly forward. She touched the cool brass knob and twisted it. Locked! She knew it would be locked, having heard the click when her Daddy closed the door. Now in the dark quiet, she listened intently, there was nothing hear.

͌

AT SIX YEARS OLD, Kattrina could not understand why she had to spend so much time in the closet, but in there she was safe, locked and secure in the small, dark room. The Bad Man was out there, Mommy always told her, ‘look out for the Bad Man.' Even though he was never to be seen, she knew he was out there but safety enveloped her, hidden in the tiny sanctuary.

On some days, when she was playing in the yard, her Daddy’s eyes would suddenly peer into the woods, as if he had heard something. Then suddenly, she was swept up in her Daddy’s arms, rushed into the house and up the stairs to her parents’ room. The whole time her mother running alongside saying, 'hush darling, be quiet, it’ll be okay. You’ll be safe in here. Now don’t make a sound, Honey.'

The door to the closet would open, then quickly but gently, her parents would place her in the small room and secure the door. The lock would click and once again, solitude became her companion.

That’s what had happened today. Mommy was hanging wash near the back of the yard near the old wooden fence, while Daddy was working on the old Chevy pick-up truck parked on the gravel driveway near the barn. Kattrina was on her swing, singing nursery rhymes. Her stuffed kitten, that she lovingly named Kitty, was on the ground in front of her so he could watch while she was swinging. It was in the early hours of morning, about 7:30, and as it is with many country families, they were awake early to begin the day’s chores.

Kattrina and her parents, Kemper and Shaylene Walsh, lived in a typical wooden farm house, situated on nearly a hundred acres of woods and fields in the Missouri Ozarks near the tiny town of Success. Kemper worked as a logger, supplying timber for the saw mills located near Licking and Houston. With his meager earnings he built their small frame house with the help of a few friends shortly after he and Shaylene were married in 1962. On the west side of the house, there was a sizeable, well maintained garden for vegetables and a few head of cattle occupied the field east of the house. On the edge of the field, closest to the house, sat a large barn where Kemper stored the tractor, combine and bailer that he used to harvest soybeans and hay. Near the cattle barn, a chicken coop, surrounded by a tightly woven fence protecting the thirty or so hens that provided a steady source of eggs. With their resources and determination, they were able to raise most of their food themselves. Logging was not always a dependable source of income and they knew they had to provide for themselves.

Kemper and Shaylene wanted children right from the beginning, a family to raise, love and carry on the Walsh name and the family genes. But they decided it would be best to wait a few years until they were financially stable enough to provide adequately for their children.

When they decided it was time to start their family, however, Shaylene couldn’t become pregnant. Dozens of tests were run on both

Kemper and Shaylene. The local physician in Houston said that none of the tests produced a hint as to why Shaylene was not able to become pregnant, his only suggestion was to keep trying and to have fun doing it. Finally, after years went by, Kattrina was born in 1969, a beautiful infant with black hair and fetching green eyes. Her parents were ecstatic, their family was finally started.

͌

KATTRINA COULD NOT remember when she did not spend time in the closet. Even at her young age, details of previous years flooded her memory. Before she could walk, Kattrina could remember the panic and terror in her parents’ voices as they swept her into their arms swiftly and quietly securing her upstairs in her secret refuge. At that young age, the words her parents spoke were beyond comprehension, but the message was all too clear. There was danger and there was panic. Time and time again, Kattrina sensed the distress and her parents’ fear was obviously present, although the cause was distant to her limited understanding. Now it was happening once again, and once again their fear was easily detected.

It always happened so fast when her parents thought the ‘Bad Man’ was near. Kattrina never saw anything, never heard anything. It went unnoticed when her mother would abruptly stiffened, suddenly on full alert. Kemp, always alarm in her voice, Kemp, I heard something

Kemper Walsh was a big man, six feet, two inches, topping two hundred and thirty pounds and feared practically nothing. There was, however, fear for his daughter and what could be lurking in the woods. Without hesitation, Kemper would grab his 12-gauge shotgun in his right hand from where it was leaning against the truck's fender and immediately rush to Kattrina. Come on Honey, come to Daddy. His muscular arms gently but hastily lifting her from the swing as Mommy picked up Kitty.

It always materialized so fast.

Kattrina was not able to focus on anything, the world became a blur. The trees, the porch, the slam of the screen door, the hallway, the stairs, all jumbled together in a rush so fast her youthful mind could not comprehend everything that was happening. But she knew there was reason to be afraid, to not struggle in her Daddy’s arms, to not cry out in protest as she was whisked away to her hiding place. In mere minutes, the door would slam, the lock would click and solitary darkness was all that was left. Though there was safety in the tiny space, Kattrina hated the closet, but the Bad Man could never get her in here.

Kattrina learned ways to make the time pass when she was locked in the closet. In her mind, pictures would form, images so real they gave the impression of being within reach, near and vivid. Images full of color and sound, images that where so real, it was as if she were actually seeing them through her own eyes. Somehow, she could see things that were beyond her range of sight, and could hear sounds, even though no one else was around. In the closet, she learned to dream. When she was alone in the dark, her imagination became the world in which she lived.

In the beginning, when she was ushered into the darkness, there was nothing to be seen, not her hand before her face, not the door or the walls that imprisoned her. But after years of being alone in the dark, her surroundings became quite clear and recognizable. Not only were the imaginings in her mind realistically clear but she could truly see her cramped surroundings. The clothes on hangers above her, the worn brass doorknob and eventually even the grain of the wooden door, all became visual. Her mind was able to witness what her parents were doing downstairs and what she saw terrified her. Even though she was young, Kattrina knew what fear was, and it was plainly apparent on her parents’ faces. They hid their emotions well and Kattrina never saw their fear when she was with them, only in the pictures in her mind.

Kattrina would watch the dream-like images as if they were a movie or as though she were an angel floating above. She could not understand all that she saw, but she could see the alarm on their faces and the panic in their eyes. Whatever it was, whatever was lurking in the woods, Kattrina knew it was something to be afraid of. Never having seen the ‘Bad Man’ and there was no way of knowing who he was, but she knew that he knew who she was and that he wanted her. She could sense it deep inside.

She would stare into the darkness, seeing nothing but blackness. Her parents’ voices were faintly heard drifting up the steps and under the door to Kattrina’s ears. As she listened to the voices that were too far away too be heard, she saw her Dad on the porch.

͌

HIS MUSCLES TENSED, Kemper Walsh stood ready on the back porch searching the woods behind the house for the slightest movement. The sun had risen and was shining brightly but the occasional cumulus cloud brought deep shadows to the forest. His finger tight on the Winchester trigger, he waited. His senses of sight and sound consumed him and for the moment, he only existed for what he saw and heard.

That damn thing is out there again, he thought, I can just feel it.

He started forward, slowly, cautiously, surveying all sides, as he carefully and soundlessly descended the porch steps.

Kemper, It came almost as a whisper. Kemper, can you see anything?

At first, he didn’t want to respond. If that thing was out there, he longed for the confrontation, an opportunity to bring an end to the terror. Turning and looking back at the porch, through the house, Shaylene’s silhouette was easily visible at the front door.

Kemp, she said a little louder. I don’t see anything. Shaylene’s hands were coated in sweat as she held tight to her shotgun.

Stay there, keep watching Kemper replied as he crept closer to the woods edge. It could be waiting, came the thought, waiting and watching for me to get close enough. He felt like the thing was stalking him, monitoring him day and night, patiently waiting for an opportunity. He lifted the shotgun closer to his shoulder; even a fraction of a second that could be saved by having his weapon ready, could make the difference.

He could see nothing.

He could hear nothing.

Even though the intense Missouri sun had not yet heated the air, rivulets of moisture descended from Kemper’s forehead. Glistening streams of sweat went unnoticed as he slowly approached the boundary where the grass yielded to the woods.

Daddy. Not realizing he had heard the word only in his mind, Kemper spun around expecting to see Kattrina standing on the porch.

The porch was vacant.

Daddy, be careful. The sound of his daughter’s voice seemed to float in the calm summer air.

Guardedly, Kemper approached the trees. Searching, probing the shadows not yet illuminated by the morning sun.

As she stared intently through the front door, Shaylene’s heart was pounding so hard, she could feel the throbbing throughout her body. Not the fast-paced rhythm of the heart of someone out of breath, but rather the heart of a frightened animal.

Thump! Thump, thump. Irregular beats that seemed to coincide with her troubled breaths. Thump! Thump, thump!

Her breaths were small as her petrified body attempted to draw in life giving oxygen. As many times as this happened, when she thought that thing was out there, it was shocking that she was so terrified each time. There had been so many false alarms and so many times when nothing could be seen. But when the creature did reveal itself, the terror lingered in her soul. She knew what it wanted, and she knew that in no way could she allow it its desire.

She listened through the screen door for any indication that the thing was near, while listening intently for any whimper from her daughter.

Cautiously, Shaylene opened the wooden screen door. The nearly inaudible squeak of the unoiled hinges seemed to load the air. Carefully, warily, stealthily, she stepped through the doorway, shotgun in hand, ready. She didn’t think the creature would be bold enough to be out in the open in the front of the house, but it would not be prudent to take chances. Nothing could be presumed when it came to this creature, it was a predator of stealth and cunning.

Shaylene stepped onto the front porch.

͌

IN THE CLOSET, Kattrina watched the visions of her Mommy and her Daddy. The pictures were as pure and intense as if she were standing on the lawn watching them. She could see her Daddy as he slowly but surely stalked the woods, searching, searching. She could see her Mommy open the screen door, ever so slowly.

She could see the shotguns.

She could feel their fear.

Daddy, Daddy be careful.

Kattrina could sense that the ‘Bad Man’ was lurking in the dense brush at the rear of the house. She could see her Daddy approaching the woods, her visual orientation now was as if she were standing where the ‘Bad Man’ was hiding.

The pictures in her mind were puzzling, especially to a child as young as Kattrina. She could see all three scenarios at once somehow, her Mommy on the porch, searching; her Daddy in the backyard, fearfully easing his way toward the woods. But what confused her most of all was she saw her Daddy as if she were looking through the eyes of the ‘Bad Man’, observing her Father from the dense cover of the woodland shadows, waiting for an opportunity. Watching as her Daddy came closer, closer, one cautious step at a time.

Daddy! Stop! Don’t come any closer!

Kemper stopped before he realized that he heard the voice.

Daddy! Stop! Don’t come any closer!

As Shaylene stepped on the porch she also heard the message. Daddy! Stop! Don’t come any closer! then, Mommy, help Daddy, the Bad Man is in the woods!"

Kattrina sat soundlessly in the closet, studying the pictures in an attempt to warn her parents. A growl, much like that of a large cat, rumbled deep inside Kattrina. Kemper had heard the growl that emerged from the underbrush, almost too hushed to be perceived. The sound of a predator, patient, as it lay in wait for its quarry.

Without thinking, without hesitating, Shaylene scrambled across the porch, leapt to the ground and bolted toward the back of the house. Too terrified to feel fear, she thought only of helping her husband kill the creature.

Kattrina, still protected in the closet, rose to her feet, the scene outside filling her mind like three separate dreams, floating in her darkness. She could see her Mother running from the porch, through the side yard and her Daddy scrutinizing the woods, then cautiously stepping forward, shotgun ready. She observed her Daddy from the darkness of leafy shadows as he approached. Kattrina’s muscles tensed, her mouth opened and a snarl rose from deep in her throat.

Shaylene rounded the back corner of the house to see Kemper stalking the woods, nearly to the line of trees that shadowed the concealed creature. Kemper knew it was there, he could sense its presence, he could feel its gaze, but he could not see it. The creature waited, with the patience of a hunter for which time had no meaning. Its quarry was near, very near, almost within reach. As Shaylene appeared, the creature noticed her immediately, but never took its eyes off of Kemper.

Kattrina watched the scene; she could not think her warning to her parents. Then slowly she crouched lower, muscles tightening further, ready to pounce.

Shaylene, now only sixty feet from Kemper, saw the movement before he did. Kemper, behind you!

Kemper whirled with shotgun in hand at Shaylene’s warning as the creature rose from the shadowy forest. He fired an unaimed blast at the movement, missing cleanly, only stripping leaves from the trees as the pellets flew harmlessly into the forest. Shaylene could not fire for fear of hitting her husband.

As the creature revealed itself, Kemper saw a huge black cat materialize in front of him. As it appeared, it rose to its hind legs and for a moment Kemper thought it was a man. Three feet away now stood a seven-foot creature, with the face of a cat and the body of a huge, fur covered man. Before Kemper could squeeze the trigger again, a deadly paw, tipped with lethal claws, caught him across the face. Kemper was unconscious before he hit the ground.

As soon as Shaylene saw Kemper go down, she fired. Once! Twice! Three times! Fur and flesh flew from the creature’s leg and from its shoulder, but it did not waiver. With speed faster than anything could move, the creature rushed Shaylene, knocking the gun from her hand, causing her to lose her balance and sprawl roughly in the dirt.

The creature stood over her. You know me Shaylene, you know what I want! it growled, telecommunicating its message. Do not forsake me what is mine. I must now heal my wounds, but I will be back. You cannot run or hide, for I will know wherever you go.

It casually walked to the woods, reassuming the shape of a gigantic black cat as it disappeared into the forest.

Shaylene lay on the ground, scarcely breathing, not daring to move, until she heard Kemper’s moan. Trembling fearfully, she rose to her feet, picking up the useless shotgun as she stood. Kemper was on his back, semi-conscious, blood flowing freely from the deep lacerations on his face. She slowly approached him, still cautiously watching the woods.

Kemper, my god, are you all right? She could see the blood on his face trickling from three razor cuts, a result of the creature’s claws. Stirring sluggishly, dazed from the forceful blow of the beast, his eyes opened, expressionless and unfocused.

Is it gone? Was all he could say.

Yes, it’s gone, my god Kemper it was awful. I shot it twice and it never fell. Kemper, we can never escape it!

Kattrina, where’s Kattrina?

"She’s still upstairs.......Kemp....in the closet....it ran into the woods.... it’s gone...... I think.... oh, Kemp.......we can’t kill it.

Kemper awkwardly, painfully struggled to a sitting position. Let’s check on Kat, Shay, we can’t assume that it left.

Shaylene helped Kemper to his feet and handed him his shotgun. With unsteady legs and shear will power they made it to the house.

Kattrina lay on the hardwood closet floor, hurting and crying. When the creature had leapt at her Dad, her own tensed muscles uncoiled and Kattrina was flung against the door. Her hand was bleeding and sore where she had hit the door when the creature hit her father. Her leg hurt and her shoulder hurt, where the shotguns blast tore into the creature.

She saw it all, she felt it all, and now she saw her Mommy and Daddy painfully approaching the house. She saw all this, yet understood nothing.

It was just another bad dream.

Chapter Two

June 7, 2014

SHE FOUGHT HER WAY THROUGH the cigarette smoke, squinting, trying to squeeze between the hot sweaty bodies, nobody giving an inch. The venue was crowded, even for a Saturday night. The pungent scent of beer drifted through the air, mingling with sweet perfumes and the moist, musky smell of people, combining to generate a peculiar aroma.

In between the dancing bodies and through the smoky haze, she caught a glimpse of Matt sitting alone at a table, across from the bar but close to the stage. Typical Matt, a Miller Ice beer in one hand and a Backwoods cigar clenched lightly between his teeth, that constant half smile spread thinly across his lips. God, he was cute, she thought. Oh well, he was spoken for already and his girlfriend Lisa was probably in the bathroom touching up her make-up.

Matt’s smile broadened as Kattrina approached. They had known each other ever since she had moved to St. Louis three years ago. Immediately they became close friends, but never wanting to screw up a great friendship, she refused his invitations for a real date. So, they remained good friends. Boy, he sure was cute though!

He stood as she approached his table, his persistent grin evolving into a full-faced smile. Kat! He lifted her from the ground as he hugged her. You are sounding great tonight, but then don’t you always? Matt was undoubtedly her greatest fan.

Kattrina’s blues band was the featured entertainment tonight at the bar, and as usual, people had crammed themselves to overflowing to hear the popular and unmatched sound. Kattrina played an extraordinary style of lead and rhythm guitar in her band, Roc’n Blues, while sharing vocal responsibility with the other musicians.

Music was Kattrina’s first interest. She began playing the guitar in fifth grade when her Mom and Dad gave her a