Curl around someone’s throat with purely evil intent.
It stood—as if on guard—in a hallway that connected the back door to the kitchen, laundry room, downstairs bedroom, and bath. She’d noted it first from the desk in the living room—she could see over the counter divider into the hallway. For a moment, it seemed as if her heart had all but stopped; she thought someone was standing there.
But it wasn’t a someone. It was a something.
Kathy Kennedy was accustomed to the craziness of her family’s décor. She had her own lovely penchant for weird collectibles. For one, she loved ravens and had dozens of little raven statues—and one stuffed raven adorned with sequins and beads. She was truly a Poe fan-girl and she had a bust of the writer set in the midst of the ravens on her mantle.
She had Day-of-the-Dead dolls mixed in with super heroes, resin models of aliens and more. A chip off the old block, more or less.
Collecting—it seemed to be a vise inherited by every member of the family. She remembered when she and Colby were in school and brought friends to their parents’ home on Elizabeth Street. Even in Key West—land of the weird, Kathy sometimes thought—their home was bizarre. Their dad collected movie costumes, props, and set pieces, historic military memorabilia, strange art, and far more. Their house looked like a museum.
“I think we’re the Addams’ family kids, sometimes,” Colby told her once. “Go figure! If we come home one day and mom is all in black walking as if her feet were in binders, we’ll know for sure!”
She was, beyond a doubt, accustomed to things.
But this thing was different.
So, I won’t do laundry! I won’t sleep in the guest room, use the downstairs bathroom, the kitchen or do laundry….
She had to use the kitchen—there was, of course, only one in the small, historic house her brother had been so proud to buy on his own. Key West real estate was atrociously high—Colby had worked hard and negotiated like a tiger to buy the place. Then he’d brought in his own quirky furniture and collections.
Like the zombie thing or nun corpse or whatever the hell it was. She would have asked him—except that Colby had left that afternoon and she hadn’t come over until just an hour ago.
She’s been on location all day, had dinner with the director and two of the actors in the low-budget sea-monster movie. Then she’d shown them Captain Tony’s Saloon and the “hanging tree” and told them some tales about old Key West. Key West did have great stories. At one time the building that now housed Captain Tony’s had been an icehouse and the morgue. And it was built right around the hanging tree where sixteen pirates and one woman—guilty of hacking up her husband and children—had met their maker. Joe Tybalt, the handsome actor, had been certain she’d made it all up to scare them, especially since the woman—the Woman in Blue—supposedly still haunted the saloon. Vanessa Green, the beautiful actress had shivered and moved closer to Andrew Bracken, the director—who had smiled at Kathy, as if thanking her for the story. Then again, Vanessa was an outrageous flirt and Andrew, she had heard, was delighted to sleep with his leading ladies.
Joe Tybalt had walked her home; he’d loved the house. But then, he’d only come in so far as the parlor.
He hadn’t seen the…thing.
Kathy hadn’t thought twice about coming to her brother’s to watch the cat.
She hadn’t thought about the hour growing late….
That it was nearly midnight.
That was it; the hour was late. She’d been telling Joe, Andrew, and Vanessa Key West ghost stories. She’d creeped herself out—and then come in here where it had been absurdly quiet and somehow…eerie. Something she hadn’t noticed at first, since she’d chatted with Joe, locked him out, and then run up the stairs with her bag. She hadn’t been afraid to be locked in and alone and she’d popped into the shower there and donned her fury robe. She’d come back down to do the smart thing and double-check that she had locked up. But then she’d noticed her computer. And then she remembered she had a few ideas about fixing a scene.