Shallow Graves (The Haunted Book 1) Read online

  Robert had to force the tears away then. However conflicted he felt about Wendy, Amy didn’t deserve to be raised without her mother.

  He leaned over and kissed her forehead. Her skin was cool on his lips.

  “You sure you’re feeling okay, sweetie?”

  Amy nodded again.

  The bell over the door behind them chimed and Robert turned in time to see Cal bursting through, his small, wide-set eyes darting about the nearly empty bar. Robert lifted a hand and the man acknowledged his presence and came over, sliding into the booth across from Robert with a huff.

  The man’s face was red and he appeared to be sweating.

  Before saying anything, Cal signaled for the waitress to come over. She returned, her lips pressed together tightly.

  “Yes?”

  “What’s your cheapest beer?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Cal rolled his eyes.

  “You know, cheapest beer? Bottle or draft.”

  “I can get you a half-pint of our house draft for a buck.”

  Cal drummed his fingers on the table, before ending with a slapping crescendo.

  “Sounds good.”

  The waitress hung around a moment longer, but Cal shooed her away. Only then did he turn to Robert.

  “Man, what a fucking day.”

  Robert glanced over at Amy, who was busy coloring on the piece of paper with the box of crayons that the waitress had brought over. She didn’t seem to notice the curse.

  “Hey, language, Cal.”

  Cal made a face.

  “What, you gettin’ all religious on me now?”

  Robert shook his head.

  “No, it’s just I don’t—”

  “Never mind. Look, I’m really sorry for your loss, man. But, man, I spoke to Wendy’s friend, the tall one with the big ti—uhh, breasts? She told me some crazy—”

  The waitress returned with their beverages and the plate of French fries. Robert slid the fries over to Amy, who took a break from coloring to grab one of them.

  “Thank you,” Robert said, to which the woman responded with a grunt and left them alone again. Cal had that impact on people. He wasn’t a bad guy; in fact, he was a good, honest man, but he lacked much in the way of social graces. “Let’s not talk here, okay?”

  Cal looked around dramatically.

  “What? Why not? The place is practically empty.”

  “There’s—”

  “The waitress? Ah, she don’t give a shit.” If there was one thing that Robert could count on, it was Cal being gruff, coarse, abrasive, but also brutally honest. Wendy’s death didn’t seem to have changed that, or even soften it a little.

  Robert indicated Amy sitting beside him with a subtle head nod. Cal looked at him, a confused expression on his round face.

  He still wasn’t getting it.

  Social graces? The man had none.

  “Let’s just go sit at the bar, okay?” he offered.

  Cal continued to stare at him.

  “You alright, man? I mean—”

  “Bar, Cal. Now.”

  Robert grabbed his beer and stood, and led the way to the bar. He grabbed the nearest stool so that he could keep an eye on Amy, and Cal followed suit.

  The man took a gulp of his beer, and then continued talking as if nothing had happened.

  “Anyway, I heard some shit…” He lowered his voice. “Wendy was having an affair?”

  Robert wasn’t sure if it was a question or statement, but he nodded anyway. He took a long sip of his beer.

  “She was fucking Landon.”

  Cal’s eyes went wide.

  “Landon? For Christ’s sake, that suit Landon? Your boss?”

  Cal’s incredulity was so palpable, that Robert nearly laughed despite himself.

  “Ex-boss.”

  Cal’s face, expressive to begin with, now transitioned into a mask of confusion, his right eyebrow rising up his damp forehead.

  “Ex?”

  Robert turned his gaze to his beer, staring at the bubbles that slowly rose from the bottom to the foamy top.

  “Yeah, he fired me. The night Wendy died.”

  Cal whistled, and then he leaned in close, growing serious again.

  “Fuck, man, what a horrible thing. You okay?”

  Robert turned to look at Amy, who was munching on a fry and was back to drawing with her crayons again.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I think I’ll be okay.”

  “What about money? You doin’ alright?”

  Leave it to Cal to ask about money at a time like this.

  Still, that was one of Robert’s main concerns right now, in addition to the mental health of his daughter, of course.

  “I haven’t had a chance to look into it. We have some savings, but, man, things were tight even when Wendy was working…now with no salary? I dunno…”

  Cal took another sip of his beer, nearly finishing his glass.

  “What about the insurance?”

  Robert tilted his head.

  “Insurance?”

  “Yeah, life insurance for Wendy. I’m guessing she had some?”

  Robert thought about that for a moment. For some reason, the idea had never crossed his mind before.

  “Yeah, you know what? We did get insurance. A couple of years back.”

  Cal snapped his fingers.

  “Well, there you go. Solves that problem, at least for now. You gonna stick around?”

  “Stick around?”

  “Yeah, you know, in town? I mean, you know how these things are…with the rumors. That shit about Wendy fucking Landon is going to get out, you know. Sorry to say, but you know it will.”

  Robert cringed at the crassness of his friend’s words.

  They were direct, unsympathetic, and blunt.

  But they were also true.

  “Never thought about that, either.”

  Cal finished his beer.

  “Yeah, well, you should. Think about it, that is. Change of location might be good, fresh start and all that jazz…put this all behind you.”

  Robert was taken aback. His wife had only died four days ago, and he was already expected to move on? Wasn’t that…wrong?

  “I wouldn’t worry about the job, either. Probably for the best. Audex was filled with a bunch of dick suits, anyway. Like that turd Landon. You’re better than them, Robbo. And you deserve better.”

  With that, he stood and surprised Robert by leaning in and giving him a strong hug.

  “Call me, man. Call me when you want to really talk.”

  Robert pushed him away gently.

  “That’s it? You leaving?”

  “Yeah, sorry, but I gotta jet. Don’t worry, though, I’ll come by later in the week. See what’s up.”

  Robert shrugged. If anyone else acted the way Cal did, Robert would probably shun the bastard. But not Cal. Cal was Cal, and despite all of his conspiracy theories and lack of any semblance of tact, he was a good friend—his best friend.

  “Thanks for coming, Cal.”

  Cal nodded and ran a hand through his greasy hair.

  “See you soon, Rob. And go eat your fries, they’re getting cold.”

  Robert sat at the bar for a few minutes after Cal had left, sipping his ice-cold beer, mulling over what his friend had said.

  I could move away, start again. Why not? It would be good for me.

  He turned to look at Amy, whose tongue was pushed into her cheek as she colored vigorously with a blue crayon.

  It might be good for her, too. And the insurance money…

  Leave it to Cal to bring up money at a time like this, but Robert would be lying if he said the man’s comment hadn’t lifted his spirits. He couldn’t remember if they had opted for the hundred grand coverage or the two-fifty, but either way, any money right now would be a godsend.

  They might be okay after all.

  Robert finished his beer, and then asked for the check, which he promptly paid. Then he slid into the booth bes
ide Amy.

  “What you drawing there, sweetie?”

  Amy looked up at him with her big blue eyes.

  “It’s the ocean, Daddy.”

  Robert turned his gaze to the page, and his breath was taken away.

  It was beautiful; a detailed, frothing ocean, with waves lapping on a sand-covered shore. Robert glanced at the crayons, noting that several of the colors—the blue, the white, the brown—were reduced to near nubs.

  “Wow,” he said, staring at the incredibly detailed work of art. “It’s amazing.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  He’d seen her artwork before, of course, but this far exceeded her skillset. In fact, it was so realistic that he couldn’t think of anything else to say. After nearly a minute, he cleared his throat, and turned back to her.

  “You done with the fries?”

  Amy said that she was, and Robert reached over and popped one into his mouth. It was cold and tasteless.

  “You ready to go, then?”

  “Yeah.”

  She held the picture out to him.

  “It’s for you, Daddy.”

  He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead again, then rolled up the placemat-sized drawing and stood, helping Amy out of the booth with him.

  They were about to turn and leave when Robert caught sight of Amy’s favorite toy, a soft pink and purple stuffed bunny rabbit on the bench.

  “Almost forgot your bunny,” he said, leaning back into the booth to grab it. He took Amy’s cool hand in his and they started for the door. “Let’s go home, sweetie. Let’s leave all of this behind us and go home.”

  Chapter 8

  “Unbelievable.”

  The mail had arrived that morning, consisting of the usual bills and flyers along with a few things addressed to Wendy. But none of those things gave Robert pause. It was an advertisement from Wendy’s old real estate firm informing that the market was great for sellers and asking him if he wanted to sell his house, that was the culprit.

  He blinked hard, unsure if it was a just awful coincidence or if the bastards had found out about Wendy’s death and planted it on purpose.

  Robert looked around, staring at the large, open concept kitchen with the white cabinets and gleaming stainless steel appliances. It was a huge place for the three of them, and now that there were only two…

  He put the advertisement on the counter instead of throwing it out beside the rest of Wendy’s ail. But as he prepared Amy’s breakfast—it was Saturday, and she had slept in—his eyes kept darting toward the envelopes with his wife’s name on the front.

  And then it dawned on him that not only was it acceptable for him to open her mail, but it was likely required. After all, he was stuck paying all the bills now that she was gone.

  “Amy, would you please come down for breakfast?” he hollered, sliding a fluffy pile of scrambled eggs onto her plastic plate and setting it on the table. He made himself a plate, then doled out the five slices of bacon—three for me, two for you.

  As he waited patiently for Amy to make her way downstairs, he grabbed the first envelope. A pang of guilt struck him, and even though he knew that he shouldn’t feel this way, he couldn’t help it.

  It was like Landon all over again, Wendy’s dirty secrets…

  Robert tore the envelope open and flipped to the last page. He was in the process of laying the pan in the sink, but when he saw the number at the bottom of the credit card bill, it slipped out of his hand and landed with a loud bang.

  A mistake…it has to be a mistake.

  Like a child, he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand.

  The figure didn’t change.

  Wendy’s credit card bill was just a hair under twenty thousand dollars. Nineteen thousand, six hundred and twelve dollars and forty-eight cents, to be exact.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, trying to convince himself. “A mistake, that’s all it is…”

  But as he scanned the purchases—shoes, so many goddamn shoes—his heart started to race in his chest. When he added up the numbers, he suddenly had a hard time taking a full breath.

  The numbers added up.

  Twenty thousand dollars…how the hell can I pay twenty thousand dollars? How in God’s name can I pay that?

  Robert closed his eyes and aimed his head toward the ceiling, trying to calm himself with a few deep breaths.

  It didn’t work.

  “How the fu—?”

  “Who are you talking to, Daddy?”

  Robert’s eyes snapped open, and he turned to look at Amy, who had come into the room.

  He placed the bill on the counter with a trembling hand, using the real estate ad to cover it.

  “No one.” He offered with a weak smile. “Just reading something.”

  Amy eyed him suspiciously. Her bright blue eyes stared at him, unfaltering.

  For once, Robert wished his daughter wasn’t so damn observant.

  “You sure you aren’t talking to Mommy?”

  The question took Robert by surprise.

  “Wha—what? No, sweetie. Mommy…Mommy’s gone. I thought—”

  Robert ran out of things to say.

  What a strange question.

  “Come here,” he said at last, and Amy walked over to him. He squeezed her tightly between his arms, trying not to cry.

  “I thought I heard her last night,” the girl whispered. “I thought I heard her in your room.”

  Robert squeezed even harder.

  “No, sweetie. Mommy’s gone.”

  He thought of what Cal had said, that it might be good for him to get a new start. It would probably be good for Amy, too. But where would they go? Especially now that he had a fucking 20k credit card bill to pay?

  It was Amy who eventually pushed away from him.

  “What’s for breakfast?” she asked, apparently already getting over their previous line of conversation.

  “Uhhh, just eggs and bacon, sweetie. I know you like your pancakes on Saturday, but Daddy was too tired.”

  Amy nodded.

  “That’s okay. I like eggs and bakey, too.”

  Robert gave his daughter a onceover, and he frowned.

  “Sweetie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You think you can put on something else today? Those jeans are looking a bit grungy.”

  Amy looked down at herself. She was wearing the plain pink t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans again. Clutched in her hand by the ears was her pink and purple bunny rabbit.

  “I like these,” she said simply with a shrug. And then, as if that was a sufficient end to the conversation, she walked over to the table and pulled herself onto her chair.

  Robert let it go, his attention returning to the credit card bill.

  Twenty grand…

  Amy was a notoriously slow eater, and was again quiet this morning as she picked at her breakfast. Robert, suddenly not hungry, stood at the counter, watching her as he sipped a cup of hot coffee.

  He should have been thinking about looking for a job, or calling the real estate agent that had dropped the flyer in his mailbox. But he wasn’t. Instead, he was thinking about what Cal had said to him about the life insurance.

  After he had returned from the bar the day of the funeral, he had found a bill for the monthly insurance, which had offered him some temporary relief to his anxiety.

  They had insurance after all. Except the bottom half of the report had been torn off, probably by Wendy, who was always looking for scrap paper to write down houses that might go on the market while she drove around in her Beamer. So the fact that they had insurance wasn’t completely assuring, because Robert had no idea how much they had. And now, with Wendy’s bills…

  Robert grabbed the phone and peeked over at Amy, who had become disinterested in what was left—most—of her breakfast, and had instead started playing with her bunny again.

  Mr. Gregorius, she called him. A strange name, but Robert didn’t mind. It was creative, like her picture of the ocea
n that he had kept from the bar and had stuck to the fridge.

  “Sweetie?”

  Amy looked up at him, and he was once again struck by the innocence in her face. It made Rob’s heart break, fissures that were quickly filled with anger.

  If you hadn’t been out fucking Landon, then none of this would have happened.

  An image of Landon in his pale blue suit at the funeral came to mind, only in this version he wasn’t crying but smiling; he was grinning, his impossibly white teeth standing out from his dark beard like drops of milk in molten chocolate.

  “Yes?” Amy asked, and Robert shook his head.

  “You think you can go upstairs and play with Mr. Gregorius for a little while?”

  He had expected a whine, but was surprised when she quickly said, “Sure,” and stood.

  “I’ll come get you in a bit, okay, sweetie?”

  She nodded, and he tousled her hair as she walked by.

  Robert took another sip of coffee and waited until he heard Amy’s soft footsteps make it to the top of the stairs and then down toward her room. Only then did he dial the insurance company.

  The security protocol to access his file over the phone was comparable to entering Fort Knox. Robert counted eight menus, and for each one he had to type in various numerical data—his birthday, his wife’s birthday, his Social Security number, Wendy’s Social Security, half of the shit he was sure he got wrong—before a human actually answered.

  “May I have your name and policy number, please?” a woman with a thick accent asked. She sounded like the most bored person in the world.

  Robert was incredulous.

  “What? Are you serious? I have blisters from typing in all of this information.”

  “It’s for your own protection, sir.”

  Robert rubbed his forehead, trying to remain calm. He reluctantly told her his name and policy number.

  “Thank you, Mr. Watts. Now, how may I help you today?”

  Robert was suddenly at a loss of words. Calling the insurance company had seemed so logical a few moments ago, but now that he had to mention Wendy and her death, it just felt wrong…the idea of profiting from his wife’s death, no matter how unfaithful she had been, just seemed so wrong.

  “Mr. Watts?”

  He cleared his throat, then listened to make sure that Amy wasn’t within earshot. Confident that she wouldn’t be able to hear, he whispered into the phone.