Page 8 of The Silence of Hell

Wild said Lynda worked for four days straight, grabbing little sleep when it came. He’d ended up kidnapping her and taking her home to enforce rest on her. Lynda slept for a solid twenty-four hours before returning to work.

Surrounding towns were helping Rapid City get back on its feet, too. There was a lingering aura of fear and worry. Residents were scared, especially with the bullshit court martials. They felt the President was saying they imagined it all or weren’t worthy to defend. South Dakota, as a whole, stepped up and sent lots of help. Neighbouring states such as Wyoming and North Dakota also gave support.

Florida was reeling, the Feds had taken charge there, and dirty cops were being ousted all over the state. The full scale of Fury’s hate and plan was becoming apparent. We’d worried about an outside foreign attack and not looked at our own people. Four months ago, it would have been unthinkable for an American to fight another like this. Now we knew it could happen.

Chatter glanced up with a jump, disturbed from his thoughts by a loud bang, and saw a picnic table had broken in half. Clio stood nearby, her mouth open. Her wide eyes took it in.

“Jinx is close, isn’t he?”

“Yup. Cleaning.”

“Holy crap. He’s a menace,” Clio announced with a sigh. “But he’s so adorable.”

“If you say so,” Chatter said and returned to his brake pads.

Clio gingerly opened the clubhouse door and peered inside before entering. Chatter snorted in amusement and finished the task at hand.

Lavender

One thing at a time became my mantra over the last two weeks. But the list was endless. The house still pretty much looked the same as when I’d arrived a fortnight ago. Huge curtains of cobwebs, dust, and debris everywhere—and dolls. Hundreds upon hundreds of them. I would call for a dump and throw them all, but some I recognised as highly valuable. Aunt Aggie had always collected dolls.

The entire collection was borderline obsessive, and I’d no doubt that half of these were probably worth money. As a doll maker and a respected consultant, I knew what I was talking about. I was the one people called in to value old dolls or to repair them. But this was beyond me.

Currently, I used a downstairs room as my bedroom as a stopgap until the hoard had been dealt with. I’d checked the kitchen and ran back out screaming. The spiders inhabiting it were enormous! I’d lived on takeout for a fortnight but was rapidly becoming fed up with it.

Things had been happening. I’d had a building company come and repair the walls on the estate boundaries. The work was progressing slowly, but they were more than halfway done. A blacksmith from Rapid City was replacing and restoring the wrought-iron railings. At one point, I thought he’d run off with the gates; he loved them so much. The gates were currently my pride and joy. The wrought iron had been repainted black with gold tips. Roses were a blood red, and the petals were green. They were a beautiful work of art.

Now, the blacksmith followed the builders around, repairing the railing that enclosed the estate. In an ode to times past, the walls and railing stood ten feet high. When Ravenberry had been built, privacy had been a thing, and height restrictions didn’t exist. The brick walls alone were five feet high, with the railings ending in very sharp points, adding another five feet.

I’d had someone out, and they’d resurfaced the road up to the manor. That simplified matters considerably, given the heavier traffic. Today, I expected a cleaning team for the kitchen. Hell, I was not brave enough to return there. I also awaited a plumber and electrician.

I suspected the heating and electricity required replacing. And I’d a construction company sending an expert to investigate damp. The third floor had been exposed to the elements and needed taking back to the studs and gutting. I’d not even been in the widow’s tower yet, so that was something needing investigation.

There was a knock, and I glanced at my watch. That might be one of the teams. On opening the heavy wooden door—I made a mental note to get someone to look at it today—I found a smartly dressed woman.

Oh no, not you again, I sighed inwardly. Shaye Terrell.

She’d contacted me a week ago, asking if I was interested in selling. I’d told her no, quite emphatically, but she was a pushy bitch.

“Hi, Lavender, it’s okay if I call you that, isn’t it?” Shaye didn’t give me time to reply before barrelling on. “My client is really quite keen to buy the estate, he’s asked for you to name a price, and he’ll be happy to buy it.”

“What part of ‘I am not interested’ don’t you understand? I’m tired of this harassment by you, Miss Terrell, and no, you can’t call me Lavender. Sheesh, if you contact me once more, I’ll phone the police on you. Let me tell you straight.I am not selling. This is an estate that my family has owned since it was built. No price can be put on that. Now I hope that’s clear,” I snapped.

Miss Terrell’s beautiful face scrunched up, and she hissed at me. “My client is Hellfire MC. One of the heroes of the Rapid City war. They want this, and they’ll get it one way or another. They just fought off thousands of enemies, do you think you can stand against them? Take the offer!”

“Go away,” I yelled, infuriated that she threatened me.

“Sell, Lavender, or be prepared for some very hostile neighbours,” Shaye sneered. “They won’t leave evidence when they bury your body.”

“And yet, I won’t sell, and my will covers the house and land if anything happens to me. Trust me, they still won’t be able to buy it. Now fuck off,” I retorted and stepped back inside. I wished the door moved easier so I could slam it for effect, but alas, no. Shoulder to it, I shoved it shut again and leaned against it, panting.

Deciding that Shaye was unhinged, I called in a report to the police, who said they’d send someone out to take a statement.

Chatter

Coming back from a ride to test his brakes, Chatter saw a black and white pull out of the Ravenberry Manor gates. Chatter had pulled over to admire them and decided to check on their new neighbour. Nobody had seen them or had any idea who they were. It was a time to be curious.

Chatter rode up the newly laid lane, nodding his approval at how smooth it was. The trees had been cut back to form an arch over the road, but they’d also been thinned out. Glimmers of sunlight broke what could have been a daunting atmosphere.

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