Good Home Cookin': A Novel of Horror

Good Home

Cookin’

Christian Burch

This story is a work of
fiction. Characters, places, and names are ideas created by the
author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any similarities to
real persons, living or deceased, or an event is wholly
coincidental.

Books by Christian
Burch

The Mirror: Seven
Mind-Bending Tales

E.V.I.L.

Haunted

Dark Horizons

Haunted: Awakening (August
2016)

Dark Horizons II (October
2016)

Dangerous Impulses
(November 2016)

E.V.I.L. 2: Regneration
(January 2017)

The Collector Novella
Series

Picture Perfect

Snapshot

Worthy Opponent (Date
TBD)

Our Family
Recipe

Good Home
Cookin’

For Here Or To
Go?

Order Up (June
2016)

Secret Ingredient
(September 2016)

Shattered
Dimensions

Cuddle Time (June
2016)

Careful… I Bite (September
2016)

Wishes Can Be Deadly
(December 2016)

What Readers Are
Saying

“
Haunted
was an amazing, suspenseful ride and kept me on the edge of my
seat! Christian's writing places me right inside the book feeling
all the changes and emotions of the characters and what transpires
with them. With an amazing ending I will wait for more of his books
and recommend them highly! Write MORE Christian!!”
-
Jennifer Schmelz’s
review of Haunted

“
This
book is amazing. Once I started reading it I could not put it down.
I read it from cover to cover in one sitting! It's a must read!”
–
Tracy Smith’s review of
Haunted

“
Here's
what I love about this author. This collection of short stories and
poems are fast paced and well written, with plenty of action as
well as thought provoking passages. Upon completion, several of the
stories left me playing out the situation in my head, causing me to
ask myself if I was that character would I do anything different? I
am left asking myself does Dark Horizons stand up to my highest
critiques of a book? Is this interesting? Am I left wanting more?
Have I felt myself become invested? To all of these I give a
resounding, yes.” –
Daniel Acevedo’s
review of Dark Horizons

To my wife Carly for never
giving up on me. Also for your good home cookin’. I do love
it!

Prologue

May
16
^th
,
1996

The two detectives exited their car
and prepared to make their way through the throng of reporters
congregated outside the prison. Detective Corder counted fifteen
cameras and at least double the amount of reporters from the
various news stations. He knew when he got the call to come in that
morning that it was going to be a media circus. Didn’t mean he had
to like it. Information had leaked that after all these years she
finally wanted to talk. The reason was at the moment shrouded in
mystery.

Silence had been her bed mate from the
time of her arrest until today. Corder was beyond curious as to why
she had chosen now to come forward. Maybe isolation had eaten away
at her psyche and she couldn’t bear it anymore. No possibilities
were being ruled out until they could talk with her face to
face.

“
I’ll part the seas,”
Davis said as he took point and cut a path through the news
crews.

Questions bombarded them from all
sides, and microphones were thrust into their faces asking for
statements, new information, etc. Stone faced, the two pushed their
way forward into the building without too much heckling from the
vultures.

After checking in, they were escorted
down to one of the visitation rooms by the warden. He had stopped
them prior to entering with a gesture of his hand.

“
She wouldn’t give us any
information other than that she wanted to shed some new light on
the case. She’s a nut job if you ask me. Whole family was,” he
said, handing over a folder.

Corder assumed the documents inside
were from the case. Pictures of the suspects, victims, location of
the murders…

“
We’re familiar with the
case Warden but thank you,” Corder said with a knowing smile,
declining to take the folder.

“
Sorry, you misunderstand
Detective. This is just the file on her since she’s been with us.
Psych evaluations and what not.”

Davis nodded, taking the folder from
the warden and looked into the room at the woman seated at a table
inside. “We appreciate it. Anything we need to know before we walk
in there?”

The woman sat with her hands folded on
the table in front of her, dark, wavy hair dropping to just below
her shoulders, inquiring eyes locked onto the men outside the
door.

“
Don’t underestimate her.
It’s easy to forget that she aided in the murder of at least twenty
people. Maybe more.”

A slow half smile crept across her
face and the two detectives entered the room, hoping to uncover
some new truths about one of the most gruesome killing sprees ever
to happen in Florida. The look on her face was one of a lioness
assessing her prey and it sent shivers up Corder’s spine.
Goosebumps broke out on Davis’s skin.

Chapter 1

August 5th,
1987

Summer had arrived in all her glory
and was holding nothing back. The heat was stifling and the
humidity suffocating. Outside activities were regularly accompanied
by sweat, mosquitos and the sweet smell of barbecue. None but the
natives of Florida would stomach this type of heat and they did so
with pride. At night the temperature dropped slightly which made
going out at night the pleasurable and sensible thing to do,
depending on where you resided.

There weren’t many houses near
Florida’s Alligator Alley but those that lived there would advise
you not to venture out at night, for obvious reasons. The buzz of
mosquitos and calls of other nightly insects and animals were a
common and expected ritual of the ‘Glades. The crunch of grass
under heavy boots was a new sound to the nightly orchestra. Though
recently, it was more of a regular occurrence in this particular
area.

The two men walking along the bank of
the water were of similar build and height, age is what separated
them. One carried a flashlight, keeping the darkness at bay and an
eye out for reptiles. On his belt were a seven inch bowie knife and
a .38 revolver. The other was hefting two large black trash bags
over his shoulder. His breathing got heavier and louder the farther
they walked. The load he was carrying was slowly wearing him
down.

The flashlight cut a path back and
forth in front of them and at times behind. Didn’t want anything to
come at them from the rear and perform a sneak attack on them.
Rustling in the bushes to their right was illuminated by the
flashlight but dismissed by the father and son pair as a small
animal scampered away, scared by the harsh light. A collected sigh
escaped them both as they continued their trek.

The fence was directly ahead, perhaps
twenty yards away. The dumping point. A three foot section of the
fence was cut, allowing access to the water that was just past the
perimeter of the fence. Three months prior they had severed the
links upon realizing this was the perfect location due to the heavy
traffic of alligators and other predatory animals that prowled the
‘Glades. This time of night, no other soul was around.

“
Why am I always the one
who gets stuck hauling the bags?”

He dropped the bags from his shoulder
and let them fall to the ground with a squishing sound. The beam of
the flashlight held still and the older man, Jameson, looked over
his shoulder in contempt.

“
Do we have to have the
same discussion each and every time we do this son? Stop your
bitching. We’re almost there.”

With a grunt, Gabe resumed his chore
of carrying the discarded remains and kept his mouth shut. He
didn’t need another lesson in what happened when his dad was pushed
too hard about any certain subject. A light bruise around his right
eye and cheek were reminder enough.

Something was moving in the water by
the time they reached the fence, and Jameson kept watchful for any
red eyes in the reflection of his flashlight beam. They’d yet to
have an incident but the day they threw caution to the wind would
be the day they became gator bait. Holding open the fence, Jameson
motioned for his son to toss the bags through. Before throwing
them, Gabe stabbed holes in them. Blood began to leak
out.

The activity in the water increased
and Jameson nudged Gabe with his boot.

“
Hurry up, or they’re
gonna come right up to the fence.”

Nodding fervently, he heaved the bags
through and they landed with a splash in the water. Within seconds
the agitation in the water turned into a feeding frenzy as three
adult alligators tore open the bags and began consuming what was
inside.

Jameson let the fence fall back into
place and they headed back in the direction they’d come.

Chapter 2

7 days later

The lights were blinding. The sweat
was pouring off of him in streams. The open black leather jacket,
with red flames on the sleeves was like wearing a portable furnace.
His black leather pants clung to him in all the worst places. All
of that shit he could ignore because the roar from the audience
fueled his adrenaline and allowed him to forget about anything and
everything else. That and the large quantities of booze and drugs
currently flowing through his system

With one foot on the monitor, he took
a deep breath, closed his eyes, and launched into the opening lines
of their most requested song. At twenty three, Dylan Masterson was
living out his dreams of being a rock star. As lead singer of
Forbidden Fruit, a band that some would argue was poised to become
a major player in the Rock scene, he was given access to anything.
Girls, drugs, booze. Two albums with over 300,000 copies sold, a
fourteen city tour, and recording a third album upon completion of
the tour were a clear indication of their rise.

Tonight’s show was a sellout. A thick
fog of smoke hung in the air, three hundred and fifty people jammed
uncomfortably into the location, and Dylan couldn’t help but smile.
Three years ago they were going nowhere fast, playing gigs at dives
and bars, for embarrassing pay outs, bar tabs and food. In those
places, they’d be lucky if fifteen people were paying them any
mind. They struck gold when a manager for a respected record
company happened to stumble upon one of their demos, giving them
the opportunity of a lifetime. They were rising above the imitators
and fakes that plagued the underground scene.

Fists pumped in the air, and voices
lifted from the crowd as he ended the chorus. On stage, the four of
them gave one hell of a performance and seemed like the closest of
friends. Dylan strode over to Jerry, lead guitarist, and they posed
back to back. Jerry’s fingers moved in a blur as he began his solo
and Dylan let out one of the screams that he was becoming known
for.