Doll House

By Jena Red

At the age of five, Cat Edwards escapes the hands of a brutal monster. This is not the usual kind of monster found under your bed or in your closet. Neither Mommy nor Daddy can chase this monster away. And this monster does not disappear at the first light of dawn either—he mingles with society, invisible among the familiar.
Twenty-three years later, the monster is back. And he has found the only person who managed to escape his clutches. And it's not about ego; it's about need—dark and twisted.

Cat finds herself the target of a brutal monster who will stop at nothing to get her. And until he finds her, the collatoral damage runs high. FBI Agent Sam O'Connor steps into the fracas to help his friend, but soon finds out that he needs help of his own when another good friend is caught up in the fray.

Daniel Edwards calls in a few long overdue markers. And so what if those people just happen to have high security clearances within the goverment? Only the best will suffice. Men are pulled from whatever they were doing, be it work or furlough, and re-assigned. Daniel Edwards is a highly decorated soldier, and has friends with more medals than the federal goverment has debt.

Enter Uncle Jim and things become interesting. Everyone should have at least one Uncle Jim in the family. It's a race against time to unravel the mystery of Cat Edwards and what happened to her twenty-three years ago. And while strangers may become friends in the events that follow... well, some friends need to be disposed of, too.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jena Red
• Release date: Mar 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224611041

Book preview

Chapter 1

She felt fear claw through her with every slash of lightning that pierced the sky.

The fear was very much alive, as alive as the electric bolts that fell from the dark, moody sky.

It was a cold rainy night, the roads wet and slippery. Thunder boomed ahead and lightning streaked across the dark sky. The road ahead was dark, and the only light came from the car’s headlights and the occasional bolt of lightning. She was driving too fast in this weather, she knew that, but she also knew that she had to get away. He had threatened to take her children from her. No, she corrected herself, he only wanted Cat. She was his only daughter and he was obsessed with having her.

He had the money and the power, and he would do anything to have his daughter. He threatened to declare her an unfit mother. In retrospect she probably was an unfit mother, loving the one daughter more than the other. Moving, always moving. Never being able to provide for her children the way her parents provided for her. The worst was letting her parents down. Silent tears were streaming down her face. She had tried. Oh, God, how she had tried. She had even begged, but he would not listen to reason. She had to do something, or her precious daughter would be taken away from her. It was the only way.

She had come to a decision that morning and immediately started to pack their meagre belongings. She would not take the chance of losing her daughter. She may have made some bad mistakes in the past, but this was one mistake she would not make. Giving her baby away would be a big mistake. She would leave town again. She hoped that this time he would be unable to find her. So far, he had found her every time she moved, no matter where she moved to. He had always wanted Cat. From the very beginning he had wanted Cat. No, that was wrong, Mary silently shook her head, trying desperately to clear her thoughts. He had wanted Mary to have an abortion when he found out that she was pregnant. She saw the fear in his eyes when she told him about the pregnancy. He was almost desperate, panicking when he begged her to have an abortion. She could smell the fear on him. Then immediately after the birth of their daughter he had offered Mary money for Cat. Ten thousand dollars was a lot of money, but her child was priceless. There was no way that she could put a price on her daughter’s love. And she knew her daughter loved her. Her daughter loved her unconditionally.

Both daughters were equally silent as they drove out of town. At first Pamela kicked and screamed about leaving. At twelve she was going through a tough time a school. This was her third school in as many years, and she always found it difficult to adjust. But they had to move; somehow Graham always found them. Damn the bastard, damn him and all his money. Not to mention the power he had. Damn him to hell. Mary wished it was so easy. But the fact was, he was making her life a living hell. She never knew when he would catch up with her. She never knew when he would manage to take her daughter as he had threatened to do on so many occasions.

She had had so many hopes for herself and her children and to think that she had pinned them on this man. He was rich, good looking, kind and influential. He would’ve made a good husband, and a good father to her other daughter. That’s all she wanted from him: a family, and a sense of belonging. And for a while it seemed that it was what he wanted too. He was kind and attentive to Pamela and her, always taking them places, buying them things. They seemed like a happy family until he found out that she was pregnant with Cat. That was the day things changed. He became cold and formidable, even angry. Fearful. Gone was the gentle man with whom she had fallen in love. He had begged and pleaded with Mary to have an abortion. He said that he was not ready to be a father. Mary knew it was a lie as she saw how he treated Pamela. She had begged him to tell her the truth. Their loving little home became a cold and miserable place. Graham began to drink in earnest. He became violent. Mary refused to have the abortion and subsequently moved out. She would have her baby. She kept hoping that Graham would change his mind. The few months they had spent together had been wonderful. She argued with him, trying to convince him that he would make a wonderful father. Pamela adored him and he seemed genuinely happy having Pamela under his roof. The two of them were inseparable. Then suddenly after Cat was born Graham offered her money if she would sign his daughter over to him. He wanted full custody of Cat. Mary had not seen Graham during her pregnancy. She had not wanted to. It hurt too much to see him and know that he did not want the baby they had created together. When he came to the hospital that day, he seemed older, more tired and not himself. Mary cried when he offered her the money for her daughter. There was no way that she could or would accept his money in exchange for her daughter. She packed up and moved as soon as she was released from the hospital. That was the first time she had moved to get away from him. Now she was on the move again. Graham was relentless in his pursuit of them.

Mary shuddered; she was cold, cold with the fear that clawed its way through her belly. Its claws were sharp, and she shuddered each time lightning struck. The lightning was eating up the sky just as the fear was eating at her. She bit down on her lip, tasted blood, and pressed the gas pedal further onto the floorboard of the beat-up old Buick. She watched as the needle on the speedometer climbed higher each time she accelerated. Her knuckles were white as she locked them around the steering wheel in a death-grip. She was determined to break away from him. This time it would be for good. It just had to be.

Mary’s thoughts were rambling. She was tired and after driving continuously for almost five hours, her foot had become heavy on the accelerator. The tyres on her car were in a bad condition, and the wet slippery roads made things worse. With hardly any tread left on them, the wet road was like oil and the car was proving to be difficult to manoeuvre. With her thoughts rambling on, her concentration was splintered, and she lost control as she entered a curve in the road. She slammed on the brakes, knowing full well that it was a big mistake even as she did so. The wheels locked and the car spun out of control. She fought to control the car, but it was already too late.

Both children were screaming as the car headed down the embankment at high speed. Lightning once again split the sky and Mary could see the car heading straight for a tree. Her own scream locked in her throat. After what felt like an eternity, the car smashed against a tree. Smoke was pouring from the engine. Mary looked around dazed, her body hurt from the impact. Everything in that moment seemed to move slowly. Mary forced herself out of the car and pulled her terrified children from the back seat of the car. Mary looked around. It was dark but she knew that they were very close to their destination. Very close to safety. It was still raining, and they needed shelter. She was afraid that if they stayed in the car that it would explode. She put Cat on her back, took Pamela’s hand and started to walk into the dark night. It did not take them too long before they stumbled upon a small hut in the middle of nowhere. To Mary it was a godsend. It seemed to be abandoned, but Mary knocked anyway. The hut was empty, but it smelled very bad inside, almost dead. A chill raced down her spine, but Mary shook it off and thought it was probably the rain. How could it smell dead? It was ridiculous and Mary scolded herself for being an idiot. The hut only smelled like this since it was probably closed for most of the year. It was dark and musty, and it did not look as if though it had been used in a while. It was just her imagination that had gotten away from her. This place was harmless – damp, and musty but harmless.

The hut was crudely made but had a small wood stove in the corner. On the other side of the huge room were two single wooden beds. They looked like they had been assembled in a hurry. There were no windows in the hut, only the small door and a skylight. There seemed to be a trapdoor that led to a basement of some sort. Mary wondered why anyone would put a basement under a rundown little hut. But as that was none of her business, she turned her mind to more important things. Like getting her children dry and warm. Mary knelt in front of the fireplace and was just going to start a fire when suddenly the door opened with a loud bang, slamming back on its hinges. She whirled around, a scream locked in her throat. A dark figure stood in the door. The figure moved purposefully into the hut. It was a man, and he had a little girl with him. The little girl was crying, hiccupping, but her tears and pleas fell on deaf ears. She looked to be about five years old, the same age as Cat.

Mary looked back at the man and screamed, her scream born of fear and disbelief. Oh God, he had found her! When she looked again at the little girl in his arms, the terrifying reality of the situation struck her completely. Now she knew why he wanted Cat. Now she knew why he so desperately wanted Cat. She watched as he deposited the sobbing little girl on the bed, like she was nothing more than a rag doll. Mary’s thoughts centred on the fact that she had only managed to bring her children closer to danger, rather than away from it. Irony was a bitch.

The man’s face first registered shock at seeing people in his hut. Then surprise and pleasure both washed over him as he recognised his visitors. Catherine. The name was uttered like a prayer. A benediction of sorts.

He took a step towards the children and Mary jumped at him, her momentum taking them both down to the floor. She gave no thought to her own safety, as she clawed at him. She knew what kind of a monster this man was. She dug her nails into his face and throat and seemed to lose all reason as she continued to scream and claw. She could feel his skin tearing under the assault of her nails. It only made her claw even harder at him. Her cries reverberated through the tiny hut. Outside, however, the storm was at its peak and her cries were not heard above nature’s thunderous outrage. It was as if nature herself was lashing out at the crime about to be committed. Lightning streaked through the sky and thunder beat down viciously upon the hut, so that the foundations shook. Spittle ran from Mary’s mouth down to the man’s face. She fought for the life of her children, as well as her own. Their safety depended on her. God help her if that was not enough. God help her children.

The man managed to get the upper hand and slammed a fist into her jaw. His face burned where her nails had torn his skin, but this somehow only heightened his senses. He welcomed the pain. After all, he fed on pain – it was what had kept him alive for this long. It gave him a better idea what the others went through. Mary fell unconscious to the floor. He left her lifeless body on the floor and strolled over to the children. Cat stood frozen to the spot, her eyes wide with terror, her little hands clenched at her sides, her whole body vibrating with unleashed anger. The man stopped in front of Cat, and picked her up gently, his anger momentarily replaced by gentleness and placed her on the bed next to the sobbing little girl. There now, I’m not going to hurt you, pumpkin. I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time. He ran a hand over her damp hair, moving it away from her face. She felt so warm and soft, and still smelled like a baby. At five she was still a baby, innocent in the ways of men. A beautiful, tiny, little innocent baby and she was all his. Their lives were linked since the night of her conception. She was all his and he could do to her what he wanted. Nobody could or would stop him. Not now, not ever. Today it ended. All the pain and humiliation ended today. It had begun with another, but it would end with her, today.

The wheel had finally turned. It had taken so many painful, lonely years, but it had finally turned to his advantage.

Pamela looked frantically around her to find an escape route, but there were only two doors, and the man was blocking the door to the outside. She stood dead still, not making a sound. She would have to run past him in order to escape. She might still make it, as the man’s attention was focused solely on Cat. Precious little Cat was always getting the attention. Nobody ever bothered with her. Not since Cat’s birth did anybody pay any attention to her anymore. Even Graham stopped being her daddy. She knew he was only her pretend daddy, but Cat messed that up by being born. Graham did not want Cat, she had heard him say so. He just wanted her and Mama. But no, Mama had to have Cat. Cat was special. Graham was Cat’s real daddy not her pretend daddy. But after that Graham was no longer anybody’s daddy. After they left Graham, nobody ever bothered with her wants and needs. She was the oldest, and like the oldest she was treated like an old shoe. It was always about Cat. She had hated her since she was born. Cat was always getting all the attention and now finally it would help her escape this ugly place. She snuck to the other door and found it led to a bathroom. For now, she would have to wait. There was no way out now. She was effectively trapped. She managed to lock herself in the tiny bathroom. She was scared. She would have to wait until the man went to sleep or until he was busy with Cat. She knew that he would come for her when he was done with Cat.

Tears were streaming down her face. She was old enough to know what was about to happen. She looked for a window, but the little bathroom like the rest of the house had no windows. She’d seen the man before. He was always looking at their house. He was very creepy.

She could hear terrifying screams coming through the door, but she made no effort to move. Fear clogged her throat, and her screams were like whispers on the howling, raging wind, barely audible. The muffled sound, however, still came through to her. Maybe if she was quiet the bad man would forget about her. So, she sat and just absorbed all the fear around her. She rocked back and forth trying to block the noise, but the screams of terror and pain surrounded her like a black cloak, enveloping her in its tight grasp. The screams were of tremendous fear and unrelenting pain.

It sounded as if the screaming would go on forever, but finally it stopped, dead. The one minute there was so much noise and the next, a deadly silence hung in the air, its presence more noxious than the screams. Outside nature’s anger abated, as if the storm itself had become calm at the same time the screaming stopped. Only the pitter patter of the raindrops could be heard on the tin roof. Pamela thought of them as giant tear drops falling from heaven. She could actually imagine God crying over the evil just committed. The eerie silence that followed was somehow worse than the terrifying screams. She hunkered down even more; her grey eyes were trained on the bathroom door, her fear very visible.

In the end she fell asleep, blanketed in fear, surrounded by evil, in a room permeated with death.

Mary woke to see her little daughter tied to the foot of the bed. She was as quiet as a mouse, just lying there, her eyes unseeing, listening to those gut-wrenching sobs. Mary too was tied down, but she was lying down on the second bed and could clearly see what was happening. Mary closed her eyes. She did not want to see what was happening to the poor little girl. It was just too terrible a crime to witness. She strained against her bonds, knowing that in time the man would do the same thing to Cat. Mary once again opened her eyes as she could hear the man grunting and cursing, his frustration mixed with anger and visible with his every move. The crying and screaming were coming from the opposite bed. And just as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

The man was chanting, becoming increasingly incoherent and slurring his words. There was so much anger and joy in his movements. He was humming to himself, his body rocking back and forth in perfect harmony. He eventually got up and dragged the little girl’s prone body from the bed, leaving a bloodied trail behind him. The bloodied knife he had used slipped unnoticed from the bed. The little girl had become another rag doll to be added to his collection. He knelt on the floor and opened the hatch that led to the basement. A blast of cold air entered the hut and lingered long after the trap door shut behind him.

He felt the gust of cold air when he opened the trapdoor, and he automatically took a deep, steadying breath as he entered. A feeling of accomplishment and intense pride filled him as he entered the room where his prized possessions were kept safe from onlookers. The room had been converted into a cold storage space. But unlike the usual cold storage this one showed an eerie display of large dolls with their names meticulously pinned to their lapels. The large broken dolls were sitting side by side, their heads hanging limply from their shoulders. Their bloodstained clothes were torn and tattered and reminded the viewer of rag dolls, but to him they were precious little angels. He could only see beauty and was not repulsed at seeing them. On closer inspection their flesh was torn. Blind eyes stared fixedly at the newcomer, their mouths open in warning. But the muted warning fell on deaf ears. The newcomer wore a pretty pink party dress with ruffles and bows. There would be no party this time around, or ever again, for her. The braid in her hair was starting to come undone and only a bloodied pink ribbon held it all together. Unlike the inhabitants of the room, the newcomer’s flesh was still warm and her limbs still pliable. Cathy was her name.

And she was arranged into a comfortable position amongst her roommates. She was to learn that their names were Marcy, Cindy, Helen, Louise, Bridgett, Tina and Annie. The man smiled broadly as he looked at his doll collection. Privately he called them his baby-dolls, but they were more like rag dolls. He would keep them with him forever. Nobody would ever find them. They were his. He even helped in some of the searches, silently keeping his secret close to his heart as he watched the frantic parents search for their children. It would be a lesson for them for not looking after their children.

Halloween was the best time to snatch kids. Lure them with a promise of candy. They always swarmed around him them like bees to honey, easy prey. He prided himself on not taking more children. He only needed a few, and not often. He always waited, bided his time until the right one came to him. He knew they were meant for him when he saw them. There was this instant recognition. He knew where to find them. Then afterwards there was this sense of accomplishment. He’d done it again, proved how easy it was to take them from under their parent’s noses. It was child’s play.

He sat there for a few minutes, until he remembered he had another doll waiting for him, excitement filling him. Of all his dolls Catherine was his most prized possession. All the other dolls were treasures and one of a kind, but Catherine was special, more so than the others. The others were mere practice; Catherine however was his main purpose. He had waited years for the right opportunity to exact revenge, and what better way to do it, than with little Catherine. She was, after all, the reason for his doll house. He would keep her until the day he died. It would be their punishment, never to know what happened to her. He wore a broad smile as he left the room, which disappeared abruptly as he locked the door behind him. Catherine would have to wait as he had other things to do first.

There was another doll. Not as special, but mama said you never looked a gift horse in the mouth. He shook his head and wondered about what kind of an idiot would stick their head in a horse’s mouth.

Chapter 2

A cool breeze blew through the trees; waves were rippling gently over the placid lake. A waterfall could be heard in the distance, its water cascading thunderously down the river that fed the lake. On the riverbank, reeds and grass gently swaying in the wind stood guard over a little girl. She was curled into a tiny ball, her dirty thumb stuck in her mouth. Her hair was her only cover from the harsh elements. Her tiny body was covered with insect bites, and scratch marks. The marks made by thorns were evidence of a long, scary flight through the darkness. A brutal darkness filled with monsters floating in the wind. Crying, screaming, taunting – their protruding, deformed limbs reaching out for her, but succeeding only in scratching her. A flight that left the little waif bruised and battered, her soul as much as her tiny body. There were, however, a few other marks that showed a human touch. They could even be described as brutal. They stood out clearly against her pale skin. No ordinary monster would do such a thing. It takes a different kind of monster to do this, a monster that preys on little children. Mother Nature stood weeping in the early morning, as dew slid from the vegetation surrounding the little girl. A new morning has begun. The sun would soon be out in full force and the early morning dew would be consumed by a thirsty earth. As if sensing the need for protection a cloud moved slowly across the sky and hovered partially in front of the sun. For the time being the little girl would be protected from the harsh rays of the sun. But for a small amount of time only.

Cat awoke instantly as the birds in the trees above scattered, signalling the arrival of danger. Somebody was there. Her tiny body tensed with fear.

Over the past few days, she had learnt to stay hidden. Propelled by fear and an inborn instinct for survival, she had taken flight into the dark night in search of safety. Her flyaway red hair was caked with mud. The dirt caked on her body was the only thing that kept the sun from burning her sensitive, alabaster skin.

She was hungry and thirsty. It was easier to find water than it was to find food.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. She somehow knew that it was more important to hide than it was to eat.

The man was looking for her, but she was small and could easily hide. She knew all about playing hide and seek. She and Pamela used to play hide and seek all the time. Thoughts of her sister tended to overwhelm her. Where were Pamela and Mama? That nasty man had taken them. He had hurt Mama and Pamela, too. Her thoughts returned to the events of a few nights ago. She shook her head, trying to erase the memory, but to no avail. She remembered seeing and smelling blood. There was so much blood, on the bed, on the floor, even on the wall. She saw the blood run like a little river through the cracks of the wooden floor. Hearing screams of pain and terror, there were a few other noises her five-year-old mind could not comprehend. Which was probably better – in the long run not knowing what those sounds were would save her from even more nightmares. She already had nightmares. Every time she closed her eyes, she could picture the events that made her tiny body convulse with terror. Fear bubbled up inside her and threatened to overflow.

Silent tears were streaming down her grubby little face, washing away the dirt and grime and leaving only a pale complexion. She put her dirty fist in her mouth to prevent any sound from coming out. Whoever was out there might hurt her, just like he hurt mama. She could still hear her mother’s screams at night. She had no control over her stomach, however, which let out a loud growl. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. It felt like days and nights had passed since she fled the hut. But it was only three days that had passed since her hasty flight through a stormy night, three days of being alone and terrified, three days that felt like an eternity for a little girl.

Cat looked through the bushes. It was good to stay hidden, and she had learnt from the beginning to know where the enemy was. She did not know his name, but she knew his face like she knew her own. He was a monster. The few hours of terror were etched in her mind, clearly. She could close her eyes and see him clearly. Yet she could not fathom why he would be looking for her. That he was looking for her was an even better-known fact. He had followed her the first night after she had managed to escape and had almost found her the next day. He came so close to finding her. She had crawled under a bush when she heard him approach, his footsteps like those of a giant trampling fairy grass, the sounds in the woods intensifying at his approach. Birds scattering, calling out a warning; deer hurtling for safety and rabbits scrambling for cover. This was not hunting season, but the hunt was on.

A quiet descended on the woods, the creatures watching, waiting, ready to flee at any moment. Curled into a little ball she waited, terrified, as he came to a stop right next to her. Her breath clogged in her tiny throat; her whole body went rigid with fear. Her heart was beating so hard she was scared that he would hear her. She barely heard him calling her name over the thundering in her ears. Funny, he called her Catherine, not Cat like her mama called her. Nobody called her Catherine.

She tried to close her eyes, hoping that if she couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t see her. A sudden movement from behind the man caused him to turn around, shouting her name.

Cat did not know what it was, but whatever it was, it distracted the man. She could hear him