Ruby

By Cathy Coburn

Meet Ruby Rose Parker, but whatever you do, if she comes to your door, don't let her in.

 

Patricia Cummings' life is perfect. After returning from her honeymoon in Hawaii she thinks everything will be wonderful from that point forward. She couldn't be further from the truth. Her blissful atmosphere is shattered the moment she hears a child calling, "Please don't kill me."

 

She knows who it is—Ruby Parker, the little girl who lives next door with her mother and brother. Patricia has never liked the girl. There is something unsettling about her. She soon discovers there is a good reason for her fears. Ruby is pure evil.

Alone, Patricia takes on the most sinister challenge of her life to prove that Ruby killed her mother and stop her from killing again. The most difficult part is neither her husband nor the police can see beyond the innocent, little girl even as the casualty list continues to grow.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Champagne Book Group
• Release date: Aug 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781771553452

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Ruby

CATHY COBURN

CHAMPAGNE BOOK GROUP

Ruby

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Published by Champagne Book Group

2373 NE Evergreen Avenue, Albany OR 97321 U.S.A.

~ * ~

First Edition

eISBN: 978-1-77155-345-2

Copyright © 2020 Cathy Coburn All rights reserved.

Cover Art by Melody Pond

Champagne Book Group supports copyright which encourages creativity and diverse voices, creates a rich culture, and promotes free speech. Thank you for complying by not scanning, uploading, and distributing this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher. Your purchase of an authorized electronic edition supports the author’s rights and hard work and allows Champagne Book Group to continue to bring readers fiction at its finest.

www.champagnebooks.com

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To my mom.

You will be missed forever.

The subconscious is ceaselessly murmuring, and it is

by listening to these murmurs

that one hears the truth.

~~Gaston Bachelard

Chapter One

Patricia glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror of her older BMW. The smile which spread across her face looked more like that of a shy schoolgirl than a woman in her thirties. When she began to giggle like a teenager with her first crush her hand flew over her mouth out of embarrassment.

Slowly peeling her hand away she found her smile still lingering, posed for what she was certain would be permanent.

Mrs. Thomas Cummings, she boasted. She gazed into the eyes of a new woman. Though she and Tom had lived together for the past almost ten years, this was different, clean, a fresh beginning.

She turned off the car, relaxed her head against the leather headrest then closed her eyes to bask in her memories. Her radio played one of her favorite love songs, Answer by Sarah McLachlan, but she heard only a fraction of it.

After a few moments, absorbed in the memories of their wonderful honeymoon, her eyelids sprang open as she remembered something exciting. She’d placed a photo behind the clip on the visor only fifteen minutes earlier but had not given that photo a thorough enough study when she got it.

She flipped down the visor to admire the picture of her and Tom toasting their union with silver and crystal skillfully etched wedding flutes. With a great deal of care, he had smuggled the set beneath bubble wrap and clothing in his suitcase. He was relieved to find them still in one piece when they arrived at the Marriott Hotel in Kauai. His sentiment had delighted her.

They made a good-looking couple, she thought, with their matching sandy blond hair and deep blue eyes.

We’re going to make some beautiful kids someday.

Without hesitation she would have hopped right back on the plane to return to Hawaii even though they’d only been home for two days. Life with Tom had not always been ideal in the last ten years, but things would be different now, she was almost sure of that.

With a spring in her step, she carried her grocery bags through the side kitchen door. On her last pass she stopped cold… Something weird, a peculiar mixture of uncomfortable and bizarre cut through her senses. Unsure of what it was, dread coursed all the way through her nervous system sending a chill to trickle down her spine. Silently she waited, listening to see if she could hear anything.

When she scanned the neighborhood nothing seemed out of order. The birds chattered in the trees above; the neighbor’s dog barked down the street. Everyday sounds, sounds you hear, but don’t hear. She hesitated a moment more. When there wasn’t anything unusual, she shook her head, chalking the creepy apprehension up to nothing important then proceeded once again toward her open door.

Please don’t kill me. The small, crawly voice of a child shattered Patricia’s blissful atmosphere like a blazing asteroid plunging into earth’s core. Why do you want to hurt me?

Patricia stood petrified. She glanced in the direction of where she thought the voice originated. In slow motion she sat down her remaining bags on the oil-stained driveway. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed one of her bags topple to its side and groceries tumble out. Powerless to prevent the chaos, she remained motionless as a lone orange escaped the imprisonment of its baggie then rolled down the driveway into the street. She wanted to chase it but was stopped again by the unnerving voice.

Why would you do this to me?

Breath seized hard in her chest, planting her feet as firmly as the large oak tree that towered overhead. The once chattering birds were now silenced; they too appeared to listen. Building her courage, she uprooted her feet, one then the other. She moved toward her neighbor’s side gate.

Ru-by? she stammered then cleared her throat to make a second attempt. Ruby, are you, all right?

Ruby Parker was the eight-year-old girl who lived next door with her mother and brother. Patricia would never admit out loud that she never really cared for the young girl, or her ten-year-old brother Bobby for that matter. She didn’t know how to explain it. It was one of those gut feelings; her insides told her both children were not quite right. They made her uncomfortable whenever they were around. Now as she slowly walked toward the gate, fear, heart wrenching fear almost seized control of her.

Ruby… Are you back there? she asked, wanting a response yet hoping for silence in the same breath.

Please don’t kill me, the small voice that hissed from behind the gate hummed through her like a high voltage wire.

Startled by the voice so close, Patricia jumped back. It was the girl’s tone that pierced her heart with the precision of an ice pick. Her words were real, eerie, not like playing a game.

Is that you, Ruby? Her voice trembled. No one answered, the only sound was her own labored breaths.

Patricia reached her hand over the gate to unlock it. Her apprehension caused her imagination to soar as she envisioned a hand or some horrible clawed paw grabbing her as soon as her fingertips got close to the latch. She jerked her hand back. With her breath stuck in her throat she stared at her hand making sure all fingers were accounted for. Drawing in a demanding breath followed by a loud exhale she attempted to find her courage.

She would not allow herself to wimp out another time. After all, the clawed paw thing was a bit out there—she was scaring herself. Her next attempt she found the latch, lifted it up then released the gate from its captor.

Ru-by. Her voice quivered. Patricia pushed open the gate an inch at a time, not wanting to smash the child in the process.

When she peered around the wooden slats, she spotted a filthy almost unrecognizable girl. Mud over the top of what resembled blood covered her clothes, face, and arms. Patricia’s fleeting moment of ecstatically-happy-to-be-alive vanished in an instant. What remained was dread.

Why would you want to hurt me? Ruby’s ethereal voice whispered. Her eyes were fixed and unblinking, peering into the space before her.

I would nev-er hurt you, Patricia answered, her voice still quivering.

It didn’t appear as though Ruby was speaking to her directly not with her blank stare, but the unsettling stir in Patricia’s stomach left her not caring either way. Ruby’s gaze locked with hers for only an instant, but long enough to cause a shudder to run down Patricia’s spine. The girl drifted back to her cold blank stare leaving Patricia bewildered, but also relieved the ice pick blue eyes were not piercing her anymore.

Is someone trying to hurt you? Where’s your brother? Where’s Bobby?

Ruby’s eyes spoke for her as she glanced toward the back yard then locked gazes again with Patricia. She was ill at ease by the penetrating stare and hoped the girl didn’t notice.

Breaking her focus from Ruby, Patricia started toward the direction the girl indicated. Stopping short she went back to shut the gate. A knot twisted in the pit of her stomach as the latch locked into place with a cold, hard clank. Trapped, like an animal in a cage, but what exactly did she fear?

Two gaunt children? Or was there something more sinister in there, an unknown person or creature which waited right around the corner, waiting to pounce like a jaguar in anticipation of its prey?

The idea of latching the gate with them trapped inside seemed the least intelligent thing she could do. She turned back to unlatch the gate and allow it swing open to its widest point. Grabbing a rock she propped it against the bottom boards to keep it from swinging shut. Once the gate was secured, she would be more equipped to face whatever awaited her around the corner. She could run now, her escape plotted.

Don’t leave, she warned the girl.

Patricia’s heartbeats thumped against her temples much the same as a stick pounding a steady beat against a drum as she proceeded. With each step her mind whirled with a new scenario, each ending badly with her in the grasp of some awaiting monster. Once she rounded the corner, she could see the only creature waiting was not a predator at all, but Bobby. He too was covered in what appeared to be blood.

She approached him scanning every inch of the yard with each step she made. Are you okay, Bobby? Are you hurt?

The young boy didn’t answer and, by his catatonic look, couldn’t answer. Even though he was standing before her physically, he was without a doubt checked out mentally.

Ruby! Patricia called in a panic-stricken voice.

What? Ruby answered from only a foot behind Patricia.

She surged forward, almost sending Bobby to the hard deck beneath his feet. She grabbed the boy to steady him, but once he stood stable, she drew back her hands to reveal what appeared to be a tacky blood residue. She could almost feel the billions of germs moving across her hands.

Holy crap, what the hell happened here? Is this blood? Horrified, she cringed.

She wanted to flee, to at least to wash off what her stomach churning inside felt was death. Calm down, Patricia. She knew from her emergency CPR training that in order to get through any unexpected ordeal she first needed to calm her own emotions.

Patting her pocket with the back of her wrist, she hoped to discover her cell phone tucked securely in her pocket. It wasn’t there. Where had she put it? Then she remembered placing it into her purse and setting it on top of her dryer; the dryer which sat right inside her propped open door.

For one brief, selfish moment she was concerned at leaving that door wide open. Her purse was within arm’s length of someone wishing to snag it and run.

Bobby remained motionless, but Ruby stared at her with an almost sinister glare.

Where’s your mother, Ruby? she asked.

She’s upstairs, Ruby said, her voice deep.

What’s she doing upstairs? She hadn’t wanted to ask, almost didn’t want to know.

She’s waiting.

Waiting for what?

For God, Ruby said as a malevolent smile stretched across her face.

What exactly does that mean, Ruby? Why is your mother waiting for God?

Isn’t that what they all do? Her piercing glare shot through Patricia as she answered.

There was something behind those eyes that wasn’t right, never was. She didn’t want to ask the next question. She wanted to run as fast as her legs could take her to the security of her own home then lock the door, her kitchen door, the one which still was open. But she had to know. With her unsettled mixed of emotions stirring and her natural instinct to protect the children kicking in, she didn’t have a choice.

She gritted her teeth to kill the wave of fright within her. Drawing in a long-labored breath to compose herself, she asked the question waiting on the tip of her tongue. What are you talking about? Who are they, the ones who wait for God?

After an agonizing time of silence, with Ruby staring directly into Patricia’s soul, she uttered two words: Dead people.

Patricia’s head whirled. Did this girl, this monster of a girl, say her mother was dead? Was it their mother’s blood that covered them both? Did Ruby kill her mother, and had her brother helped?

What was Patricia supposed to do? A million thoughts surged through her mind at once. The one that stood out the most was that they were only young children who possibly needed her help. Maybe someone else killed their mother; maybe the killer still lurked inside. Should she grab the kids and run to her house then call the police? Or would she be taking the killers with her?

Calm down, Patricia. Their mother’s most likely in the house, and maybe she needs your help. Is someone in your house, Ruby?

You mean besides Mama?

Yes, is anyone in your house beside your mother?

No, only Mama… waiting.

Is your mother okay? The real question, the question burning in the back of her throat was, Is your mother dead? but she couldn’t get the words to form properly in her mouth. The thought of asking such a question made her want to vomit.

Define okay, Ruby said in a harsh tone better fitting the devil than a small child.

Shocked, Patricia couldn’t reply. Run, leave this monster standing right here and run… She’s a child, Patricia, get a grip. You’re a very smart little girl, aren’t you, Ruby?

"Yes, I am, Patricia. Do you want to come inside? I’m quite sure Mama won’t mind," she said as the sinister smile once again spread across her face.

What about your brother?

He’ll wait here. Won’t you, Bobby?

Bobby remained silent, completely checked out of reality. Patricia placed her hands on his shoulders, trying to be gentle and no longer mindful of the suspicious blood substance that covered him.

She knelt to look him straight in the eyes, but he stared right through her. Are you going to be okay, Bobby? We’re going in the house for a minute. Why don’t you come with us?

Fear darkened his eyes, a split second of panic. He was frightened by whatever was inside that house, frightened more than anything she could imagine. That not knowing what to expect, terrified her.

Okay Bobby, I understand, she whispered. You don’t want to go in the house, and I won’t make you. Can you wait right here for a few minutes? I promise I’ll be back for you.

It’s not doing any good talking to him; he can’t hear you, Ruby said, shrugging off her brother’s plight.

Patricia glared at her. Maybe she’d been wrong to judge Bobby so harshly, but with Ruby, she was spot on. Okay Ruby, let’s go see your mother.

Ruby seized Patricia’s hand. Without thought she yanked free. Are you frightened, Patricia? Ruby asked, a snicker fluttering in her tone.

"Of course, not… Ruby. What would I have to be frightened of?"

I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one who appears scared.

Well I’m not, so let’s go. Patricia had turned to follow Ruby into the house when Bobby grabbed her. Though it surprised her, she didn’t yank free as she’d done with his sister.

She squatted to capture his attention once again. What is it, Bobby? What do you want to tell me?

His head jerked from one side to the other. A moaning sound came from the back of his throat, but no words would escape.

It’ll be okay, sweetie, I’ll be back for you, I promise.

He squeezed her hand so hard she had to pry his fingers loose to free herself.

Wait here, she murmured.

His hand drifted to his side. His eyes glassed over. Once again, he checked out.

Okay Ruby, lead the way.

Ruby walked to the sliding glass door then slid it open. She moved aside and waited for Patricia to go in. Right before entering she stopped to glance back at Bobby. He remained motionless, his back to the house. She hesitated for a moment as mixed emotions surged through her.

Are you coming or what? Ruby asked.

Patricia sucked in an unsteady breath, fighting down her flaring impatience. A caustic glare answered Ruby. Patricia then proceeded into the house.

The moment she entered, a sickening sensation trembled in the pit of her stomach, as burning acids surged up her throat. Alarmed by the unsettling silence, she walked into the tomb-cold environment.

To her left was the spacious living room, neat and well-kept, with only a couple of blankets flung across the back of the couch. A portrait of the entire family, including Dad, hung over the mantle of the fireplace. It was clear from the picture where Ruby’s blonde hair and blue eyes came from. She resembled her fair-haired father, while Bobby had the dark brown hair and eyes of their mother. Patricia had assumed Mr. Parker was nowhere around because of a divorce. It never occurred to her it could be anything different.

Is that a picture of your father, Ruby? she asked, unable to drop her gaze from the smiling faces.

"What do you think, Patricia? Do you think we hired some strange man to be in our family portrait?"

Patricia glared at the sarcastic, too-smart-for-her-britches brat. Where is he now? Is he still living?

Depends, Ruby huffed in a are you dumb tone.

Depends? What kind of answer is that? Depends on what?

Ruby stopped and pivoted to look Patricia squarely in the eyes before answering.

Do you believe in life after death? Attempting to stand her ground so as not to appear intimidated Patricia glared back. The beads of sweat she could feel forming across her brow were blowing her cover. An audible sigh rushed through her teeth. Irritation and an incomprehensible fear rose in her chest. She wasn’t sure which sensation was more powerful. Glancing around for a phone, her gaze fixed with dismay on the empty phone base.

After struggling to form words, she finally asked, Where’s your phone?

How should I know? Ruby responded in a clotted, grating voice, sending an icy chill down Patricia’s spine.

Instincts to run kicked in again, pulling Patricia back and forth like a tug-of-war. What if it was nothing? What if Mom was upstairs waiting on someone to help? What if she let her fear get the better of her and Mrs. Parker died because of it? Patricia would push on.

As they started up the stairs toward the master bedroom, a morbid curiosity overtook fear. Her attention was drawn to the photos that hung before her. All but one was of the family, the entire family. She noticed, in the background, familiar sites—Cincinnati Music Hall and the Cincinnati Museum.

The middle picture was of Dad alone. He was laughing; he was a happy man. A name plaque at the bottom read, Keith Gregory Parker, Forever in Our Hearts. This man was missed, dearly loved. Sadness draped over her. She hadn’t given the children half a chance thinking they were odd when maybe they grieved for their father.

One thing the pictures had in common was they were all from the Ohio area. That must be where this family came from when they moved next door to her and Tom three years prior. Patricia didn’t dare ask Ruby any more questions as she didn’t wish to hear anymore caustic answers. Patricia examined the family photos in silence as she proceeded up the stairs.

Two steps before the top of the staircase shrill cries broke the deafening stillness. Stopped in her tracks as her heart leaped in her chest, Patricia couldn’t move. Her gaze flashed to Ruby, who wore a nasty grin while she gawked in the direction of the cries. Trying to persuade her legs to move, Patricia focused on moving toward the cries, away from the girl. Her eyes were hurting, burning, wanting to blink but powerless to do so.

Finally, her legs cooperated, and she ran, not in the direction she wanted but to the top floor toward the noise. Then a scream of pain, followed by a sound that rose into a quick, gasping gurgle beckoned her toward a closed door.

Mrs. Par-ker? Patricia choked.

Gripping the wrist of her trembling hand to steady it, she reached for the door. Heartbeats thundered in her ears as she turned the knob then pushed to enter the room.

Her gaze flashed about the chamber of horror. Red splatters stained the unmade bed and the back wall. Smears across the floor led to Mrs. Parker lying in a pool of blood. She held a phone loosely in her hand. A shimmer of light from the butcher knife that lay by her side captured Patricia’s attention. Most of the blade was covered in blood identifying it as the weapon used in the attack.

Oh shit, she heard herself almost scream the phrase she believed had long ago left her vocabulary. Then the pleading eyes of the woman on the floor opened and stared right through her. Oh shit, Patricia repeated this time in a whisper. She scrambled to the woman’s side and knelt beside her. Who did this to you?

Please don’t kill me, a haunting voice whispered from behind her.

The pain-stricken eyes of the brutalized woman darted toward the voice, the voice of her daughter. She didn’t have the appearance of fear, but of deep-seated sorrow. She then gasped for air with a peculiar underwater sound. A desperate glance aimed toward Patricia caused a prickly knot to clot in her throat preventing her from speaking.

Blood started to pour from the woman’s mouth and nose. Patricia’s hand flew over her own mouth to keep the stomach fluids from bursting out. The woman was dying before her eyes. It was hopeless. She tried to look away but couldn’t peal her bug-eyed gaze from the rapidly perishing woman. The fading eyes glazed over, and she knew at that very instant only the shell of a woman remained.

The only sound that lingered in that darkened bedroom was Patricia’s own panicked breathing. Various parts of her body shook. She stared at the women. Her mind filled with objections. No, she’s not dead, help her. Then she chastised herself, why didn’t you help? You sat here and let her die. Mercifully, her mind went into a fog, and no more thoughts could surface. She sat in shock until the whisper released her.

Please don’t kill me.

"That’s what she said to you, isn’t it? She begged you not to kill