Finding Home: A Club Dark Novel Read online

  Copyright

  © Finding Home by Reagan Hollow

  EBooks are not transferrable. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the written permission, except for brief quotations for critical articles or reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are simply the product of the author's imagination and have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons either living or dead, are completely coincidental.

  Copyright© 2016 Reagan Hollow

  Cover Design by Cover Me Darling

  Edited by Silla Webb- Masque of the Red Pen

  Dedications

  First of all, I have to thank my little family. My husband for being my rock and believing in me. I love you more than words can say. My four beautiful kids who hit the ground running every day. It’s a wonder I manage to get anything done, but I wouldn’t have it any other way, haha.

  To my best friend, Jennifer, thank you for the brutal honesty and for believing in me.

  To all my closest friends and family who’ve shown any kind of support, I love you all and know you are beyond appreciated.

  To Josi: Thank you for everything. You’ve shined a light on this world for me, making this process so much easier. You’re an amazing person, never let anyone make you feel any different.

  Diane, my lovely PA: Thank you for taking a chance on me. I’m honored you picked me as your Author, and so glad we were able to form a friendship. I’m look-ing forward to the future love, and can’t wait to meet up with you.

  To Amanda: Thank you so much for your help in this. You're truly amazing

  For my beta’s, you guys rock. Seriously, without your reassurances and words of encouragement, I’m not sure I would’ve finished. So thank you all for being amazing.

  Lastly, if you are reading this, as a fan, blogger, family member or friend…Thank you, I do hope you enjoy it.

  Prologue

  I’m jamming out in the back seat of my parents’ old 1984 Mustang as “Miss Independent” by Kelly Clarkson, blares through the car speakers. I’m so happy to have parents who indulge in my ever-changing taste in music.

  “Are you excited about this year’s trip, Lacey?” Each year, we take a family vacation somewhere new. Just Mom, Dad, and I, as we’re all each other has. My parents’ have nothing to do with their families, and I’ve never really cared to ask why. For this year’s trip, my parents’ have decided to surprise me by not telling me our destination.

  “Yes, Mom. Can you please, please tell me where we’re going?” I’m pouting just a little; hoping she’ll cave in and tell me where it is we are going.

  “Now, Lacey,” my father begins, “it wouldn’t be a surprise if we told you now, would it?” I think over what he said before answering

  “I guess not.” I try to remain cheerful, but it’s so hard to do when I’m so anxious to know where we’re going. I hate the unknown.

  “Cheer up, pumpkin, we’ll be there in no time.” My father smiles at me, and it warms my heart. Still, I give him a sassy smirk with a little glare because he used my nickname. I hate it and he knows it, but I can’t stay mad at him; at least not for long.

  I love my parents’, but I’m partial to my father the most. I guess you can say I’m a daddy’s girl. After all, he taught me how to ride my bike at six-years-old and sure, there were plenty of bumps and bruises, but Mom was always there to doctor me up and give me freshly baked cookies, homemade from what she always called her secret recipe.

  I smile as if in a daze at the memories I share with my dad. We like to explore the outdoors, especially hunting and fishing. It’s our bonding time, where we are both content to just be in each others’ company. Sometimes, we talk about school, and other times no words are needed. Lately, he’s let me get my hands dirty under the hood. I’ve never been happier than when I’m helping my dad repair a broken part.

  Now things with Mom and I are different. We do stuff that is more indoors; for instance, we started a reading challenge to see who could read the most books in thirty days.

  I’m currently on my sixth in two weeks, but don’t tell her that. I always end up laughing every time I ask Mom how many she’s read because she refuses to share. She says the mystery of it will make it more interesting and fun; I have to say I agree with her. She’s also teaching me how to cook. I hardly ever leave her kitchen without being covered in our creations.

  I’m lost in thought until I feel the slight tinge of pain where my bladder is. We’ve been driving for about six hours now, and I still haven’t got a clue as to where it is we are going. All I know is we left my hometown of Fargo, North Dakota hours ago and it’s been about an hour since we crossed the Iowa state line.

  “Does anyone need a pee break?” I blurt the words out without warning. I know it’s only a matter of minutes before I’m going to have to go.

  “We still have quite a long ride ahead of us sweetie; do you think you can hold it for a bit longer?”

  “No, Dad, I have to pee, like now. I can’t hold it for another minute.” Seconds tick by, and in no time we’re pulling into a gas station where Dad says he’s going to fill her up and sends me and Mom inside to take care of refreshments and to finally use the restroom.

  I open the car door and hightail it inside. As soon as we enter the gas station I look for the restroom spotting a small sign hanging from the ceiling, the word bathroom in bright letters shining down on me.

  Unable to contain myself, I tug on my mom’s t-shirt and point at the bathrooms. “May I go now, please?” I ask while teetering from foot to foot, trying to forget the painful cramping of my bladder.

  “Make it quick, honey, we’ve got to get back on the road if we wanna make it to where we’re going by nightfall,” she says, a smile pulling at her lips as she gives me a light pat on the head.

  I take off for the bathroom, my feet stomping across the hard floor. I can faintly hear my mom telling me to slow down and be quiet, but I get inside the bathroom and quickly lock the door drowning out her voice.

  I’m grateful that this is a one-person bathroom instead of the one’s that have stalls. I do my business and when I finish I head for the sink so I can clean my hands. I spend a little too much time drying them with the blower, my fingers threading through the air as it blows from the dryer. I think it’s cool to watch my skin ripple from the warmth of the air as it smacks off my skin.

  I’m pulled from the fun of the dryer as I hear something loud beyond the door. I’m startled as the dryer cuts off, and a dark voice shouts loudly, echoing throughout the gas station.

  I unlock the door my hands are shaking as I pull it open just a smidge—

  just to see what’s going on. My eyes instantly seek out my mother’s, and as soon as our eyes connect I know something’s wrong. She gives me a slight shake of the head, signaling for me not to come out.

  My heart beats out of my chest as fear fills my belly. I’m just about to shut the bathroom door again when I see a tall figure towering over my mom with his back to me. I can only assume it’s a male since I can’t see his face, but he’s big kind of like Daddy.

  He’s covered from head to toe in black. Black pants, shoes, shirt, and he has something tied around his face.

  My eyes roam over him, as he’s got one arm extended out toward my mom and the other toward the man behind the counter. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but merely assume that he’s here to rob
the place.

  I know I should shut and lock this door right now, but terror has stolen my whole body, locking me in place. It’s like I can’t turn away from what I know will happen next.

  Air stills in my lungs, and as I blink, it feels like I’m seeing everything happen in slow motion. The man in all black gestures at something, and the man behind the counter hands over the money; his movements are jerky as if he too is scared. I watch with horror as the arm that was previously extended out at my mother jerks back. The deafening noise shakes me to the core. A loud bang shakes the entire gas station, causing items on the shelves to rattle.

  I hear a blood-curdling scream fall from my mother’s mouth as the guy’s arm jerks again, just as she falls silent. My chest aches as I wonder why my mother is screaming. The bad man turns his attention back to the counter, giving me a clear view of what it was that he had pointed at my mother just moments ago: a gun.

  Tears leak from my eyes and roll down my cheeks, and the wetness reminds me that I’m still here hiding in the bathroom alone. I slow my breaths and force myself to remain quiet. I’m doing everything I can to not scream or draw attention to myself. I grip the door handle tightly in my small hands. I want so badly to go and check on my mother, but I remind myself that she told me to stay put.

  I can see the clerk negotiating with the hooded man, the fear in his eyes speaks volumes, but it’s no use. The bad man points his gun at his head and pulls the trigger without a care in the world. The force of the bullet flying from the barrel causes the man to fall back against the rack behind him, his blood spraying everywhere.

  A coldness creeps into me as I slap my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. I watch fearfully as the man gathers up the money set before him, his eyes darting around the store.

  It’s when his eyes land upon the bathroom door that I take a deep breath and step back, praying that he didn’t see me. Time seems to stand still as I hold my breath and hope he forgets to check the entire store.

  Relief floods me seconds later as I hear the chime from the door opening. I force myself to grab the bathroom door and open it. I peek out and see two more guys in all black walk inside. They each grab a couple bags from behind the counter and start filling them up with money and random items from the store shelves.

  The guy with the gun starts shouting at the newcomers, his eyes watching cautiously outside. “Only take what we need. The cops’ will be here soon.” The door opening causes the chimes to go off again, which tells me he’s finally left, and moments later the other two rush from the store and outside.

  I wait for as long as I can, and when I think the coast is clear I push the door open and rush over to my mother.

  I slip, my legs giving out before I can make it all the way to her. I scurry across the cold ground and to her lifeless body. She’s slumped over on the floor with her back up against a magazine rack. I can’t see her face, but I also can’t see the rise and fall of her chest. My eyes roam over her body, trying to figure out where all the red is coming from.

  It’s not until I’m nearly on top of her that I notice she’s sitting in a puddle of blood with two massive holes in her chest. Everything inside of me tells me that it can’t be true.

  I take her hand into mine without thought. Her skin is cold against my warm hand. Wetness forms in my eyes, as the tears slip down my cheeks coming faster now, causing my vision to blur. Why won’t she wake up?

  “Wake up, Momma,” I plead, shaking her shoulder, my fingers digging into her skin. “I’m scared, and I need you….” I continue. “Please wake up.” All my pleas for her to move go unanswered.

  I hear sirens in the distance. Thankful the cops are on their way, I run outside in hopes of flagging them down. Maybe they can wake Momma up for me. I halt, my eyes lingering on my father. Our car is gone and he’s lying face down on the pavement beside one of the gas pumps.

  “NO!” a scream erupts from deep within my throat, as I find myself running over to him. “Get up, Daddy, you have to get up. Momma and I need you, so please get up.” My body curls in on itself. As I push up against him, my body molds into his side. I feel the tears coming; they trickle down my cheek, revealing the real truth that they’re not going to wake up.

  Minutes seemed to tick by until a pair of large arms gently wraps around me. I should be running away from the hands that are cradling me, but I can’t. I can’t leave my momma and daddy.

  Unable to muster up a word or even a movement, I allow the man to pick me up off the ground and carry me over to the nearby ambulance. A coldness settles into my bones. It’s like a piece of me has died, like a piece of me has floated away just like my momma and daddy has.

  I notice as an older officer, a little rounded in the middle, approaches me. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice is gentle. Looking up at him, I see nothing but pity in his eyes. This can’t be real. I just want to curl up in a ball, beside my mom and dad, and just let the world fade away.

  “Lacey….” My voice wobbles… “Lacey Carter.”

  He watches me with caution as if I’m a bomb waiting to go off.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Lacey.” He smiles, and I know it's meant to calm me, but it doesn’t.

  “I’m Officer Bradley, and this here is Detective Lomax. Do you mind answering a few questions for us, dear?” he continues.

  However, before I can speak my next words a woman comes out of nowhere. I didn’t even realize she was back here with me.

  “She can't be any more than ten years old, and she just witnessed the murder of both of her parents. Can’t you cut her some slack and at least let me check her out before you start asking questions?” The officer and the EMT exchange a look before Officer Bradley speaks once more.

  “Yes, of course, we’ll come back in a few minutes when you’re cleaned up and feeling up to talking.” Officer Bradley gives me a soft smile before walking away; him and the other officer whispering under their breaths.

  “Hi, sugar. I’m Elizabeth, but you can call me Liz if you would like to.” She waits for me to respond and when I don’t she continues on.

  “Do you mind if I look you over and make sure you’re okay?” All I can manage is a slight nod of the head.

  My thoughts shift to her previous comment. Murder? My parents’ had been murdered? They didn’t do anything wrong. There was no way.

  No! This couldn’t be happening. They’re just sleeping and someone needs to wake them up. They can’t be dead. I can’t lose them.

  “Chin up, sweetheart, are you injured anywhere?” Liz, the EMT, tilts my chin upwards so she can get a good look at my eyes with her little flashlight. “You’re covered in a lot of blood and it’s hard to tell if it’s coming from you, or if it’s from someone else?” Someone else? My parents’.

  My eyes cast down as they roam over my own body, and sure enough, I see that she is right. I’m covered in blood; it coats my hands, arms, and clothing like a heavy reminder of what just took place. All the blood, the redness, belongs to my parents’, which only makes the pain of all of this that much worse.

  “I…I’m not hurt.” I manage to squeeze the words out, even though my throat feels as if it’s tightening.

  Thirty minutes pass as I endure Liz, the EMT, shining lights in my eyes, taking my blood pressure, and anything else she deems necessary. Liz finishes up what she is doing just as the officer and detective return.

  “She appears to be physically fine; the blood belonged to her parents’. I do however believe she’s in a state of shock, and that will soon be affecting her emotional state. Therefore, you might not be able to get much out of her at this point,” Liz states and hops out of the truck. The detective watches me with soft eyes. I wonder what he’s thinking?

  “Hi, Lacey, I’d like to formally introduce myself, since I didn’t get the chance earlier. I’m Detective Lomax.” He holds his hand out in front of me. Am I supposed to shake it, or give him a high five?

  “If you would like
, you can shake my hand as it’s just a friendly gesture to show you I mean no harm,” he explains. I place my hand in his. His big hand completely swallows my little one as he circles his hand in mine, giving it a tiny squeeze before releasing it. I stare aimlessly at the concrete, not knowing what to do with my hands now or even myself. I place my hands back in my lap where I begin to fidget with them, doing whatever I can to try and remain calm.

  I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want my mom and dad back. I just want to get back in our car and head down the road to wherever it was that we were going.

  Why did we have to stop anyway? Shivers rack my body. I feel chills down to the bone, despite the warm temperature outside.

  “Sweetheart?” The nice detective tries to get my attention— his voice is gentle and calm, but I ignore him. I don’t want to talk to him or frankly anyone else right now.

  “Can you try to explain what you saw happen? I know it’s hard, but you are the only one who can help us catch these bad guys,” the detective urges me. As much as I don’t want to recall everything I have just witnessed, I want these policemen to catch the men who did this.

  Through tears and pain, I give the detective my story, reliving the entire scene in my mind. He waits patiently as I remember every detail from inside that bathroom, and I tell him every feeling I felt.

  “Thank you, sweetie, you did great. This information will help us apprehend these men and then you can be given the justice you deserve.” He speaks the words casually as if he didn’t just take a statement about a girl who lost both of her parents’ to death.

  An old lady wobbles up to us, and my eyes skim over her body. She’s tall and thin, and her hair reminds me of snow; it’s white and fluffy and styled neatly around her ears. She looks as if she could be someone’s grandma, except she’s dressed in a suit. I thought only men wore those? She gently places her hand on the detective’s shoulder.

  “Good evening, Detective,” she says, “Is this Miss Carter?”

  Recognition takes place in the detective's eyes just as he starts to speak, “Ahh…Mrs. Andrews, nice to see you, although I wish it were under better circumstances.” He frowns. “Yes, this would be Lacey Carter.” He gestures toward me.