Two Little Lies (Seasons of Deception) Read online

  For my family and friends, who have always believed in me, and have never stopped encouraging me to follow my dreams.

  © Copyright 2014 by Adam Kunz (C.A. Kunz).

  All rights reserved.

  Published by C.A. Kunz LLC.

  License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, re cording, or otherwise, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover designed by Sarah Hansen at Okaycreations.com

  Cover photography by Kelsey Keeton

  © 2013 K Keeton Designs kkeetondesigns.com

  C.A. Kunz, LLC

  Orlando, Florida

  First and foremost I need like to thank my mom for taking a leap of faith with me into the wonderful world of indie publishing. This whole experience has been truly amazing and she’s been a real trooper for putting up with me. I can’t thank her enough for sticking it out on this journey into the unknown. We’ve had an absolute blast writing together, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

  Huge thanks goes to Sarah Hansen at Okay Creations for designing another absolutely stunning cover for me. You’ve seriously outdone yourself with this gorgeous and breathtaking cover that I have the honor of putting on display, and I can’t thank you enough! I am proud to have yet another one of your creations represent one of my books.

  Special thanks should go to Kelsey Kukal-Keeton from K Keeton Designs and model Cameo Yvette (Hopper) for supplying the beautiful picture for Sarah to create the amazing cover for Two Little Lies with. I absolutely adore you guys for being able to capture the exact pose and emotion that I had in mind for this cover. It’s perfect!

  A tremendous thank you should go to our ever-so-awesome street team, The Book Cartel. You’re our A-list supporters, awesome friends, and super dedicated readers. I’m truly grateful for all that you do. Much love and big hugs!

  Very special thanks to the wonderful editor, Kristina Circelli. I absolutely adore you and all you did to help clean up my writing at the last minute! You have definitely made this book much more polished and refined.

  An EXTRA SPECIAL thanks goes to Tiffany King, Raine Thomas (The Red Queen is, and will always be, my loving nickname for you, hahaha!), and Megan Bagley for being a part of my all-star group of beta readers. You ladies are just too amazing for words, seriously!

  I also want to thank EVERY SINGLE author, reader, blogger, and friend that has been so incredibly supportive of me and my love of writing (you all know who you are). You all mean the world to me, and I can’t even express in words how much I appreciate all of you!

  Thanks to you, the readers, for taking a chance on this book. By performing this simple act you are helping me make a lifelong dream come true, and you have no idea how much that means to me.

  Finally, I cannot forget to thank all of my wonderful family and friends. Your love and support keep me always moving forward, and for this I am eternally grateful.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  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

  About the Author

  Death is an inevitable part of life, but it’s also something I never really thought about until I stood toe to toe with it, peering into its unforgiving and merciless eyes-a sight that’s forever burned into my memory. I never imagined by the age of seventeen I’d be forced to fight for my life through a scenario I had only seen in horror films. In my mind, those kinds of things only happened to other people, but not to me.

  Like many teenagers, I considered myself invincible, and was naïve enough to think my entire world was contained within a perfect bubble I referred to as my phablet (a cell phone almost the size of a Kindle). One cold December night put an end to all of that, though. I’m still trying to figure out if it was a blessing in disguise, like some people tend to rationalize tragedies, or if I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Four years ago...

  I pull back the curtains and peek through the living room window, surveying the street beyond the front yard for any sign of Brent’s truck. The only thing I can see through the sheets of snow falling outside is the eerie, pale yellow glow of the streetlight by the road.

  If my parents knew I was over here covering Brent’s ass and babysitting his younger brother Cody instead of spending the night over at Shannon’s, they’d ground me for life. Especially with all this talk of a serial killer on the loose one state over who’s making their way closer to us, according to the news.

  “Dammit, Brent, where are you?” I murmur, letting the curtain fall closed.

  I check my cell phone to see if he’s replied to any of my texts, but he hasn’t. While pacing back and forth in front of the window, I type out another message and hit send. Looking around the living room while waiting and hoping for a response, I can’t help but be overcome with holiday spirit. The whole space looks like Brent’s mom threw up Christmas all over it. If Santa and Mrs. Claus were real and had a living room, it would probably look a lot like this.

  The intercom in the foyer chirps, causing me to jump. Cody’s tired voice comes through the speaker. “Laney ... could you please bring me up a glass of water?”

  For security purposes, Brent’s dad had an intercom system installed throughout the entire house with a speaker unit in every room. The Internet radio function integrated into the system has come in handy quite a few times for Brent’s secret house parties.

  “Sure thing, kiddo,” I reply while holding down the talk button. I hear his disembodied “thanks” as I leave the foyer.

  The light in the kitchen automatically clicks on when I step into the room.

  I never do get tired of that.

  The house is full of these motion light sensors because Brent’s parents are very energy conscious along with the whole overly secure thing. They’re all about being “green.” I don’t even want to know how much this kind of system costs to install.

  As I start to open the cabinet where the glasses are kept, I remember Cody’s very picky about what he’ll drink from. “What cup is it again?” I ask myself while perusing the cabinets one by one.

  Opening the half-cabinets above the stove, I spot his favorite superhero cup. When I reach for it, my hip bumps into the ladle resting in tonight’s dinner, a pot of spaghetti marinara that’s sit
ting on the front burner. The spoon flips out and onto my shirt, leaving a red smear trailing down to my jeans before crashing to the floor.

  “Shit,” I whine while examining the soon-to-be stain.

  Grabbing a paper towel from the roll on the counter, I wet it and then begin wiping down the spot on my shirt. When that fails miserably, I rush over to the laundry room connected to the back of the kitchen and begin sifting through the plethora of clothes-cleaning supplies, searching for a stain remover pen. Finding one, I pop off the cap and begin going to town on the damn spot. The pen only succeeds in spreading the stain, making a larger red oval than before.

  “Great,” I groan, throwing the pen onto the washer in frustration.

  The wind chime hanging outside the back door begins to clang about, and draws my attention with its faint melody. I can see it through the door’s window swaying back and forth, and the sight of the blizzard swirling around out there sends a quick chill right through me.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, startling me, and I pull it out to see a message from Brent:

  On my way back now. Sorry it took so long. :( I owe you BIG time!

  Receiving the text brings some relief. I figure I have at least fifteen to twenty more minutes of babysitting left to go before he gets back. To be honest, I’m starting to get a little freaked out in this huge, empty house.

  I type out a reply to him and smile when I hit send. If only Brent knew how I really feel about him. We’ve been best friends since we were young, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve had a crush on him. A deep, yearning crush that has pretty much defined my romantic interests pre- and post-puberty. There’s really nothing I wouldn’t do for him, hence why I’m covering for him now instead of stuffing my face with peppermint Rice Krispies Treats over at Shannon’s.

  When most of my friends were obsessing over celebrities and filling their school notebooks with I heart so and so, I was doodling hearts with Laney loves Brent inside of them. We used to do everything together and were practically inseparable. He was my practice kissing partner and my first-and only-patient during our many games of doctor. We were even each other’s date to every single school dance until high school. The moment he began hooking up with Melody Hopkins during freshman year, our relationship changed, and I was completely and utterly friend-zoned.

  The wind chime sounds again, interrupting my musings about Brent. A huge gust sweeps by the back door, rattling the window panes and causing the glass chime to violently thrash about. The sound has no rhythm and lacks the pleasant melody from before. As I go to leave the laundry room, I’m alarmed by a loud crash outside. It sounds like someone dropped a glass on the back porch. Looking through the window, I see the wind chime lying there shattered to pieces.

  “Awesome,” I groan. “Whose brilliant idea was it to hang something so fragile outside anyway?” If it wasn’t for snowmageddon happening right now, I’d clean it up.

  It dawns on me I’ve completely forgotten to get Cody some water. I hit the switch for his room on the intercom and then press and hold the talk button. “Sorry, Cody. I’m coming with your water, okay, bud?” There’s no answer. “Cody?”

  Huh, I wonder if he fell asleep waiting for me.

  When I re-enter the kitchen, I get a sense someone’s watching me, like eyes are boring into the back of my head. I look around at all the windows, but see no sign of anyone, or anything out of the ordinary, just more snow drifting down outside. Trying to shrug off the feeling, I grab Cody’s superhero cup from the cupboard and press it up against the refrigerator’s ice dispenser before filling it with water. I release an irritated huff while snatching up the marinara-covered spoon from the floor and place it into the sink. Before I have a chance to clean up the mess I made, music begins to play in the kitchen at a low level. I place the cup on the counter and then approach the speaker in the kitchen when I realize that’s where the music’s coming from. It grows louder with every passing second until I can hear the song “Santa Baby” playing clearly.

  “What the hell?”

  I press buttons on the intercom, trying to switch channels in order to talk into Cody’s room, but it seems the system’s all locked up. It doesn’t recognize any of my commands. I keep receiving a message that reads: Unit #1 in use.

  “Unit one? That’s in the foyer,” I say to myself, peeking around the wall at the intercom positioned by the stairs across from the front door.

  I step out of the kitchen with slight hesitation and move in the direction of the speaker. From a distance, I can see something attached to the unit with strips of black tape. Upon closer inspection, I find a hand radio hooked up to the speaker by an audio cable, and its small LCD screen has the words playing Santa Baby streaming across it. Reaching out to grab it, I stop short as the front door slams open behind me. I spin around and a frightened gasp seeps out through my lips.

  Cold air flows through the small space, accompanied by a shower of snow flurries that cover the floor mat just inside the door. I reach for the door’s handle and push it closed while struggling against the harsh and frigid wind blowing in. After securing the lock, I inspect the alarm system beside it to see why it didn’t go off when the door flew open.

  Crap! I must’ve forgotten to re-set it after Brent left. I would forget to do that, wouldn’t I?

  Feeling uneasy and on edge with the creepy “Santa Baby” song still filling my ears, I head back over to the intercom system, rip the hand radio off the speaker, and shut it off.

  Taking out my cell, I dial Brent’s number. My fingers are shaking. The other end rings and rings until finally going to voicemail.

  “Dammit.”

  The instant the word leaves my mouth, the power cuts out. A surprised scream escapes me.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” My voice trails off into the silence of the house.

  It’s so dark I can’t even see a foot in front of my face, and it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. The only source of light I have is the faint glow from the street lamp outside, spilling in through the small rectangular window above the front door. I try to turn on my cell’s flashlight app, but my trembling hands are making this simple task difficult.

  A thud followed by a scraping noise resonates from the kitchen. Panic courses through me as I pan over with my phone’s light to inspect it. The scraping grows louder the closer it gets. It sounds like something heavy being dragged across the floor, catching each groove between the large tiles.

  “Cody, is that you? If it is, quit playing around. This isn’t funny,” I say toward the kitchen. This wouldn’t be the first time Cody has tried to scare me while babysitting. But if this is him, he’s definitely outdoing himself. The dragging noise stops, but there’s no answer to my question. “Cody?”

  My hand shakes harder, causing the light to bounce around in front of me. I try to steady my fingers and dial Brent’s number. Instead of pressing call, I flash my phone’s light back toward the kitchen when I think I hear another noise, but still see nothing there. Positioning the phone’s screen back to face me, I press the call button and bring it to my ear.

  Warm air sweeps by the nape of my neck, making my entire body seize up. My eyes grow wide with shock. I struggle to not turn around for fear of seeing who’s standing behind me. A rough, heavy breath sounds by my ear as Brent’s hurried hello comes through on the other end of the line. The instant I try to yell into the phone, I’m suddenly enveloped by someone else’s body and muffled by a gloved hand as it grips my mouth in a tight squeeze.

  “You’re going to end up like all the others.” His breathy whisper sends a fearful chill through my body. “Split ear to ear and wrapped up with a nice red bow.” I scream while squirming against his brute strength, but my struggle feels futile against his strong arms.

  An icy sensation stings the side of my neck, feeling like cold metal being pressed firmly to my skin. Tears form in my eyes as the cool metal begins sliding across my throat. Sharp pain rushes through my neck
, intensifying when he digs deeper into my skin. I feel blood beginning to trickle down as he continues dragging the cold metal edge over my throat, but then he stops abruptly.

  “Shhh,” he seethes close to my ear. “I’ve only just begun to cut you open. You’re going to want to save your energy for what I have in store for later.”

  I can’t hold back the cry for help anymore, even though I know it will be muffled by his hand. The only thought running through my mind is, please don’t let me die like this.

  “Laney, I’m still thirsty,” I hear a soft voice say off to our left. Cody’s standing there on the stairs, rubbing his eyes and clearly unaware of what’s going on.

  The man’s grip loosens as his focus shifts to Cody. Realizing I have an opening, my survival instinct kicks in accompanied by a shot of adrenaline. Raising my right leg, I drive the heel of my boot down forcefully onto his foot, causing him to growl out in pain. I follow that up with a swift elbow to his gut before throwing my head forward and then whipping it back, connecting with his face and sending him staggering backward.

  Thank you Mom for making me take those women’s self-defense classes.

  “Cody, run to your room and lock the door!” I manage to shout while rubbing the offended area of my head. When he realizes what’s happening in front of him, he releases a shrill scream that echoes throughout the foyer as he hurries back up the stairs.

  I lunge for the only thing close I can use as a weapon-Brent’s mom’s favorite vase. Snatching it up from the side table by the stairs, I spin around and crack it over the man’s head just as his hands are mere inches from grabbing me. He stumbles to his knees, and as I try to dash around him he grabs my leg, tripping me up and sending me crashing to the floor. Pain stings my hands and wrists from the impact when I try to catch myself before I face plant into the cold tiles. Kicking free from his grasp, I scramble away on my hands and knees, trying to put distance between us.