Pretty When She Kills (Pretty When She Dies #2)(18)

Chapter 7


Samuel Vezorak was in a good mood all things considered. The family was drinking all his beer and had devoured most of the barbecue he had cooked up earlier in the day, but he had a good buzz going and he could ignore the barbecue sauce smeared all over his leather sofa.

Outside, the radio was pumping out old country classics into the warm summer air. The porch was crowded with family, kids were in the yard chasing after each other, dogs begged for scraps and attention, and the menfolk swilled down beer while they told tall tales.

Samuel was hitting the buffet table one last time. Though he was leaner than a blade of grass, he could eat any man under the table. His wife, Kelly Ann, had made some of her killer potato salad and he heaped a mountain of it on his plate next to some barbecue chicken and brisket.

“Looks like trouble,” Kelly Ann muttered, entering the kitchen of their double-wide trailer. Her long blond hair was plaited into a braid down her back and her cheeks were rosy from the heat. She guided their youngest, John, to the sink to wash off a mixture of grease, dirt, and sauce from the six-year-old’s face.

Samuel had two sets of children. The first set was Samuel Raymond Vezorak, Jr., who went by Ray, Damon, Amaliya, and Rachel from his deceased wife Marlena. Ray and Damon worked with him and lived in the trailers on either side of his with their wives and kids. Rachel had died of cancer when she was very young. Amaliya was...gone. The second set was with his second wife, Kelly Ann. John and Betsey were his pride and joy.

“John, what were you doing out there?” Samuel asked, cocking his head to gaze down at the little tow-head.

John giggled in response.

“Not talking about him, Samuel. Out there. I think it’s another one of those reporters.” Kelly Ann gestured out the window.

“Dammit. Not another one,” Samuel growled.

Mae, his mother in law (and previous sister in law when he had been married to Marlena), carried Betsey into the kitchen. The four-year-old was just as messy as her brother.

“They’re looking for Amaliya, you know,” Mae said. “That girl’s trouble. Pure and simple.”

“Amaliya is dead,” John said, scrunching his face as his mother wiped at it with a kitchen towel. “She wented to heaven.”

“Yes, your sister Amaliya is an angel now looking down on you when you sleep, taking care of you,” Kelly Ann said with a forced smile. She gave her mother a warning look and started to clean Betsey’s face, too.

“Yeah, of course,” Mae said, rolling her eyes, her head turned so the kids couldn’t see.

Mae was drunk and ready to fight, but Samuel shut her down with a stern look. Kelly Ann looked up nervously. They did not discuss Amaliya’s visit from beyond the grave in front of the children. Samuel would never forget the way his daughter’s eyes had glowed red as she casually tossed him and her brother Damon around like they were toys. Mae and Kelly Ann were convinced she had been possessed by demons, but Samuel feared it was something much worse. Though Amaliya was legally declared dead, Samuel still feared for her. And feared her.

Sometimes at night he would wake up in a cold sweat convinced she would be standing in the doorway of his bedroom, her eyes glowing, her teeth sharp, ready to take revenge on him for his shitty parenting.

His chest hurt at the thought of her. He remembered her as a beautiful blond child with blue-gray eyes, dancing and singing out in the backyard, not the surly young woman covered in tattoos with dyed black hair. It was difficult for him to reconcile the two images of his daughter.

Samuel shifted his over-burdened plate to his other hand and moved to look out the window.

“Where’d you see the reporter, Kelly Ann?”

“Out near the fence,” his wife answered. “He’s wearing a cowboy hat.”

“A local maybe?”

“Never seen him before if he is.”

The screen door screeched open, then snapped shut as someone else entered the trailer.

“Hey, Dad, got some reporter type out by the end of the drive. Want me to shoo him off?” It was Ray. Tall, lean, and weather-beaten, the oldest of his children was the spitting image of him at the same age.

“I’ll take care of it,” Samuel decided. “A man can’t even enjoy a decent meal around here without those jackals coming around.”

“Damon went to get his shotgun. A good shot over his head will get that reporter’s ass moving,” Ray said, grinning.

“I don’t want the police out here again,” Mae said shrilly. “They give me hell about the dogs running around loose.”

“Calm down, Mama.” Kelly Ann frowned at her mother. “Let the menfolk take care of it.”

Samuel glanced down at his plate, sighed, and set it on the counter. Plucking a fresh beer from the cooler, he gestured to Ray with a jerk of his head to follow him, and headed into the living room.

The living room was just as crowded as the porch. A few people were watching a race on the TV. The barbecue was a monthly event at his house and neighbors always showed up in droves for his award-winning brisket. He liked showing off his culinary skills and hanging out with the people he thought of as true friends. They were not fancy uppity types.

Pete Talbert was lingering near the doorway, keeping a watch on the stranger outside. Pete was a good guy in Samuel’s estimation. He had hoped that Amaliya would gain some sense and marry the guy, but that had not come to pass. Lately, Pete was withdrawn and a little jittery. Samuel suspected he was mourning Amaliya’s death. Pete had never stopped crushing on his daughter, even when she had turned weird. Pete had suffered a bizarre stroke a few months before and was still recovering. Though Samuel didn’t like to admit it to himself, he wondered if it had to do with Amaliya’s mysterious visit on Easter.