Grave Wrong
Kate Allenton
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
About the Author
Other Books By Kate Allenton
Copyright © 2020 Kate Allenton
All rights reserved.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Coastal Escape Publishing
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Chapter 1
20 Years Ago
Ryley stared out the window at the passing dark buildings where even the moonlight was afraid to venture. A chill settled on her shoulders.
Most of the streetlights didn’t work on this side of town. The boarded-up buildings were spray-painted with words she’d heard her brother say, but she wasn’t allowed to repeat.
The seat was covered in a mustard stain from where her brother had spilled his hot dog the last time they’d been taken out for a treat. Tucker had gotten in trouble for that. He’d been buckled in and not quick enough to move out of their daddy’s reach—kind of like how she was now. She hated sitting in the front seat and being within reaching distance when he was in a grumpy mood. She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t remember she was alive on days like those.
Tonight was worse than one of those days. The smell of hotdogs and good days was replaced with the stink of coffee and her daddy’s sweat.
A yawn slipped free, and she tried to stifle it. Her tired eyes begged to close, but she wouldn’t dare let herself fall asleep. Not during nights when her daddy was taking her to see his friends.
One big, burly man was like her Uncle Johnny, who rode a motorcycle and had colorful pictures drawn up and down his hairy arms. Another was tall and skinny, who liked to pace back and forth. The others, well, they hung out in the background listening to conversations even when they pretended not to be, kind of like what Ryley sometimes did at night pretending to be asleep. They’d acted in the same way, only doing it while cleaning their guns.
Her daddy had a gun too. Ryley wasn’t afraid of guns. She’d seen enough television to know what they could do. The last time her daddy had taken her to his friends, they’d asked weird questions. One had lost his daughter and needed Ryley to give him an address by just touching her picture. Another had lost his money and wanted her to find it. The requests were always different, but if she helped them find what they needed, then her dad was happy and would have money to buy her and Tucker an occasional ice cream cone before he’d be gone for days. Mom said he was visiting the ponies, but he’d never take Ryley along, no matter how hard she begged to ride them.
Ryley met the end of her daddy’s fist whenever she complained, so she continued to bite her tongue. It was easier that way. The car squeaked to a stop, and her daddy got out and opened her door as she unbuckled.
A parked car up the road had smoke drifting from the pipes as the idle of the engine hummed. She could just see the silhouette of the man sitting inside. The odd prickling energy of his soul was spikey instead of smooth. She didn’t like the spikey souls that felt like porcupines covered in darkness and tar.
Her daddy grabbed her hand and led her down the dark alley where monsters liked to lurk.
“You be good and only answer the questions when I tell you to, and you stop when I say.” Her father’s voice was full of warning, making her recently healed bottom lip throb from the last time she’d talked out of turn.
“Yes, daddy,” Ryley answered.
His big fingers tightened on her sweaty hand like a shackle she couldn’t break free.
An icy chill skirted down Ryley’s spine. Her breath turned frosty and visible in the night like the smoke from the car on the street. Ryley dug her hand into the coat pocket, crinkling the empty wrapper inside while trying to hide from the bite of the warning.
Her stomach twisted in unforgivable knots, wishing her momma had come with her.
“Where’s momma?” Her question came out as a slight squeak and tired whine.
“She’s at work, and I didn’t tell you to talk,” he growled, squeezing her hand tighter.
The stink from the big green dumpster smacked her in the nose the more they walked, each step taking them farther from the security of her daddy’s car. The smell of rotten food wasn’t the reason she covered her mouth with her hand.
A man was lying next to the dumpster on a cardboard box. His dirty clothes hung on him like rags. His ghostly body hovered over his lifeless shell, staring at his see-through hands as if trying to understand.
Darkened shadows descended from the roof high above, slithering down the side of the building. The creepy crawlies were a mix between shadow
