SUSPICION OF EVIL
A Novel By: Amy Auer

CHAPTER ONE

The smell hung heavy in the salted air, coming closer with each crashing wave that pounded the shoreline. Kaycee Beaumont increased the speed of her morning jog to a near sprint hoping not to get caught in the torrential downpour that was riding in with the angry surf. After the accident, she had taken up jogging as a method of therapy—not that it had helped any—and knew she still had nearly a quarter of a mile to go when the first droplet of rain spattered her back. Knowing it was useless to run in what was now beginning to feel like quicksand, she came to a stop, reached down, took off her running shoes and began walking the rest of the distance home. She hadn’t made it very far when the first droplets of delicate rain turned into a pounding surge. Although the rain had felt like needles pricking her back, she was enjoying the way the saturated sand oozed between her toes with each step she took, and at a snails pace, walked the rest of the way home.

Up ahead, even through the slanting sheets of rain, Kaycee could see the “For Sale” sign at the edge of the property, sticking out of the sand like a grave marker. She couldn’t call it her property anymore or even her house. Ever since the accident it was simply the house or the property. And until it sold that’s the way it would remain. The property had been on the market now for over a year and still there were no bites. Not even a nibble. And until she was able to sell, she would have to remain there and relive that fateful night, day after day after day.

At the bottom of the steps leading to a substantial back deck, Kaycee stopped and wiped her sopping hair from her eyes and face, then looked up. It was then that she saw the shadow of a figure standing under the overhang of the house well above her. Taking the steps two at a time she made her way up towards the deck.

“It’s about time,” a voice squealed. “I’m soaked!” Kaycee couldn’t help but laugh when she saw the condition of her best friend, Brenda Stellars. Always perfectly dressed and made up, she now stood looking more like a wet dishrag than the perfect starlet she was so use to being called; with her auburn hair plastered to her face and black mascara trailing down her cheeks.

“Not funny!” Brenda complained. “Open the damn door would you?”

“It’s unlocked.”

“What!” she shrieked. “You’re to tell me I’ve been standing out here in this…this hurricane and the door has been unlocked the whole time?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m telling you. Besides it’s not a hurricane,” Kaycee laughed, “Just a little tropical storm.”

“Whatever. Look at me!”

“I kind of like the new you.” Kaycee said, unable to stop the laughter behind the words. “Come on, I’ll make some coffee and get you some dry clothes.”

Opening the sliding glass door, they walked into the kitchen area where the warmth was a welcoming relief from the blowing, slightly chilled rain. Kaycee let her soggy shoes fall to the floor, where they landed with a loud thump, then left the kitchen to change into dry clothes. “Start a pot of coffee, will you?” She yelled from the living room.

Within a few minutes, Kaycee returned to the kitchen wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts, and a Miami Dolphins tee-shirt. Her blond hair was towel dried and hung half-way down her back in a neat ponytail.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” She asked Brenda, handing her a pair of stretch shorts and a similar tee-shirt.

“No.” She answered, and then disappeared into the nearest bathroom. No doubt trying hard to fix her muddled appearance, Kaycee thought.

When she returned, Brenda was as organized as she could possibly be under the circumstances, and helped herself to a cup of steaming coffee. She took a seat at the kitchen table and sat in silence, sipping her black coffee unsure where to begin.

Outside the rain was crashing into the side of the house at an alarming speed and gusts of wind were picking up immensely. Its whistling fury was easily heard over the sounds of roaring waves and sizzling bacon.

“You sure this isn’t a hurricane?” Brenda asked, still not wanting to approach the pressing issue of her visit.

“Positive.” Kaycee answered. She removed the crisp bacon, set it on several layers of paper towels to drain, and then poured a generous amount of scrambled egg mixture into the hot skillet. After adding fresh peppers, onions, and mushrooms, she turned to face Brenda.

“Out with it,” she said, “and don’t play dumb. I know you too well and I know you wouldn’t be caught dead out in the rain let alone out in a storm without a reason.”

“Can’t a girl just come and visit her best friend?”

“Brenda!”

“All right…all right. I found a house.” She finally managed.

“Come on Brenda, you know I can’t move until I sell this house.”

“Yes you can and you know it.”

“I’m not touching that money and that’s the end of it!”

“Do you really think Mark would want you to be like this?” Ignoring her, Kaycee turned back to the stove and stirred the eggs. She dropped two slices of wheat bread into the toaster and slammed down the arm.

“He’s dead Kaycee.” Brenda continued. “It’s been five years and I’m sorry, but you can’t stop living your life because of a terrible accident. He left you that money so you could go on living.”

“You think I don’t know that he’s dead!” Kaycee screamed. Ignoring the toasted bread, she spun on her heels and with tears welling up in her eyes she faced her best friend, a raging fury inside.

“You think I don’t know my husband is dead? You think I don’t know my kids are dead!” She howled.

Brenda, having been through this so many times before knew that the only thing she could do now was watch, helpless, while Kaycee crumbled to the floor below, releasing a flood of tears.

After what seemed like hours, Brenda finally got up from the table and went to Kaycee’s crumpled body. She put her arms around her and comforted her, best as she could.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself Kaycee. I know it hurts but you know as well as I do that not spending that money isn’t going to bring them back.”

“Please go.” Kaycee managed.

“I’ll go, but I’m going to leave the information on the table for you to look over when you feel up to it. It’s just what you need honey, trust me. You need to get out of here and start over. You can’t stay in a place where the memories haunt your every waking moment. You’ve got to start living again.”

“Please…just go.” Brenda gave her a final hug, then walked to the front door, opened it and ran to her car in the rain. Once inside, she couldn’t help but feel the acceleration of her heart and wondered if she was doing the right thing.
















CHAPTER TWO

It wasn’t until smoke began filling the kitchen that Kaycee managed to find the strength and pull herself up from the kitchen floor. She looked at the stove and immediately saw where the smolder was coming from; the scrambled eggs she had previously started were now a mess of bubbling black. The smells of burnt onions and mushrooms were repulsive, yet she took her time, not caring if the skillet suddenly burst into flames, not caring whether she lived or died.

“Please mommy, put it out.” It was the faintest whisper, yet loud enough that Kaycee spun around as though someone had just screamed in her ear.

No one was there.

Taking her time, Kaycee wiped the wetness from her face and reached for the charred skillet, ignoring the immediate blistering on her right hand. She let the skillet drop into the sink with a loud crash, and turned on the cold water. Upon impact it hissed and sizzled, then released mounds of acrid smoke.

Kaycee turned away from the sink, reached into a cabinet and removed a glass and a bottle of vodka. She took a seat at the kitchen table and then poured herself a generous amount of the clear liquid. Up until the accident she had never been much of a drinker, and even now she only drank when she heard the voices in her head…voices of her dead children. So, rather than fall off the edge of insanity and into the depths of despair, she chose to drown herself in the bottle instead.

She reached out to pick up her glass and couldn’t help but notice the information that Brenda had left on the table earlier. She took a lengthy drink of the clear poison then looked down at the manila folder in front of her. She nearly dropped her glass when she saw the picture of the large house. It appeared to be staring back at her, reaching out for her. That was impossible she thought. Or was it?

Unsettled, Kaycee drained the liquid in her glass, set it down on the table and then proceeded to unclasp the photo from the front of the folder to take a better look. There was something different about the picture she thought. Something…that was vaguely familiar. But what was it? She wondered.

The house itself was rather impressive looking. It seemed to be a rather substantial two-story Victorian. Or was it a three-story? It was hard to tell from the photo itself considering a large portion of the house was hiding behind monstrous trees. After staring at the photo for an undetermined amount of time, Kaycee finally came to the conclusion that the house had a rather ominous look of sadness to it. Yet she liked it. She liked it a lot. And it was at that moment that she knew she had to have it. It was as if the house itself was calling out to her, inviting her into its space. She didn’t need to read any of the information that was stuffed inside the folder, nor did she want to. She wouldn’t change her mind. The price was located on the picture directly under the house itself. If she used the life insurance money Mark had taken out shortly before his death, it was a price she could easily afford to pay for directly, without the worries of a thirty-year mortgage. And for the first time in over five years, Kaycee Beaumont was finally able to look forward to something.

She poured more of the Vodka into her glass and raised it towards the ceiling, toasting to a new beginning.

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