Trouble in Hell (Hell Night 1)

She grins. “Give me a few, and I’ll bring something light in to eat. The IV should be done by the time you finish, then we’ll get you settled in at my house.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate everything you both have done for me.”

“It’s no worries. Like Dr. Trayce said, we don’t get many visitors here, so it’s nice to see a new face from time to time.”

I close my eyes after she leaves the room, hopeful my stay in Malus will be short.

I FOLLOW SUSAN UP THE steps that lead to an older but well-kept house. She lives only a couple of blocks away from Dr. Trayce’s office, so the trip was short but hot.

I notice an old glider on the porch and an image of sitting outside in the evening with a tall glass of iced sweet tea filters through my mind. Looking around, I can picture people waving in greeting from the street as they walk their dog, maybe even stopping by to have a chat, just like they do in the movies.

Susan opens the door, and a wave of something delicious hits my nose as we step over the threshold.

“I was in the middle of cooking dinner when Dr. Trayce phoned me to come to the office,” she explains. “Pot roast.”

“It smells delicious.”

Just then, a small fur ball comes barreling around a corner, slipping a foot to the side before straightening enough to run at Susan. A couple of feet away, a dog, who I assume is Barry, spots me and slides to a stop. He starts yapping away, the barks so forceful his front paws lift off the floor with each one. I can’t help but laugh.

“You hush it now, Barry.” Susan bends and scoops the little dog up into her arms. “He tries to act tough, but he’s nothing more than a big baby.”

My nose wrinkles when Barry starts licking all over Susan’s face. I’m fine with dogs, but I’m more of a cat person. Cats are calmer and know how to clean themselves. Dogs may be a man’s best friend, but

they like to lick and their breath stinks. Looking at his doleful eyes when he stops licking long enough to notice me again, I have to admit, he is a cute dog.

Susan puts him down and he immediately moves to me, sniffing my sandal encased feet. His little nose is wet and warm, and I’m surprised it doesn’t bother me much.

“This way.” Barry and I both follow Susan down a hallway and she points to a closed door. “That’ll be your bathroom. You’ll probably want to rest for a bit, but once you’re ready, it has a full bath and shower.”

She opens a door across from the bathroom. It’s small, but furnished with a twin bed, dresser with a mirror, a night stand on one side of the bed, and a couple of landscape paintings.

I turn back to her. “Thank you. This is nice.” I belatedly remember something. “I need to get my car to the mechanic.”

“I’ll have Meryl drop it off at Mick’s for you.”

When I open my purse to get my keys, I remember I didn’t grab them when I got out of the car in the parking lot of the restaurant.

“My keys—”

“—were still in the car,” she finishes for me with a smile. “Meryl had to move it when you blocked in Lenny’s truck. He locked it and still has the keys. Don’t fret, he’s trustworthy,” she adds when I bite my lip in worry of a stranger having the keys to my car. “By the time you get up, your car will be in my driveway.”

“I know I sound like a broken record, but thank you again.”

She reaches over and pats my arm. “No need to thank me, dear.” She picks up Barry, and he starts licking her face again. “Now, why don’t you and that baby get some rest. Dr. Trayce will be by in a couple of hours to check on you. If you need anything in the meantime, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

I watch as she walks to the door. She doesn’t close it all the way, the nurse in her I’m sure leaving it open in case she needs to check on me.

I drop my purse on the bed and sit down beside it, the pain in my head intensifying. I kick off my shoes and lay down. The house is cool, but I still feel too warm to get beneath the covers. Besides, I’ve sweated buckets today, and I hate the thought of lying under a blanket when I feel so yucky. I’m too tired to shower right now, so I’ll just lay down for a bit then shower. I’ll ask Susan if she can take me to my car to grab some clothes when I wake up.

As soon as my head hits the pillow, tiredness weighs down my eyelids down, and before I know it, sleep claims me.

TROUBLE

MALUS WASN’T ALWAYS the name of our town. During my childhood, it was called Sweet Haven. The name is laughable to anyone privy of what happened here twenty-three years ago. To the ones who don’t know, it’s deceptive. There was nothing sweet about this town back then. And haven represents safety, which is something that wasn’t offered here. At least not for the kids.

When my brothers and I moved back ten years ago, we petitioned the state to have the name changed. We moved here to start a unified front to ensure that what happened in the past, never happens again. This was to be our town. It was our hell for the first part of our lives, but would be our sanctuary for the latter half. We made it what it is today. A place where people like Gary Watters won’t get away with the sickness he preys on children. Justice isn’t served in the traditional sense, but it damn sure is served.

With ninety-six percent of the population in Sweet Haven agreeing, which wasn’t many people when you look at the overall numbers—there wasn’t many left after the town was dismantled in the eighties—the state granted our petition to change the name. I think they felt sorry for anyone left in Sweet Haven because of the stigma that came with the name. The raid hit national news, so everyone knew where Sweet Haven, Texas was and what happened there.