Free Dead Spots by Rhiannon Frater Page B

was holding the phone receiver. “It’s your mother on the line.”
    Mackenzie stared at the black receiver. How could her mother know she was here? Clarity began to break through the maelstrom of confusion clouding her mind.
    Devona held out the phone insistently, shaking it slightly. “C’mon … answer.”
    Curiosity gripping her, Mackenzie twisted around in Grant’s grip and wrenched free.
    â€œNo, Mackenzie!”
    Tilting her head, Devona grinned, waving the receiver.
    Mackenzie took the now shiny and sleek receiver from the woman and cautiously pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”
    â€œAre you leaving your baby again, Mackenzie? Didn’t I raise you better than that? First you do something stupid and kill him before he’s even born, then you just up and leave Shreveport leaving him buried in the ground, then you have the chance to have him again and you just walk away. What kind of mother are you?”
    It was Estelle’s voice. The inflection of every word was perfect. Though Mackenzie knew that her mother harbored in her soul the belief that Mackenzie had somehow brought about the death of her child, the cruelty in the words held a malevolence Estelle’s voice did not.
    â€œIt’s not her,” Mackenzie said, staring at the waitress, dumbfounded at the barrage of nasty comments pouring out of the phone.
    â€œMackenzie, don’t feed it.” Grant grabbed the phone from her hand and flung it at the waitress, who ducked out of the way.
    The nasty words uttered in her mother’s voice filled her mind, making her reel. What sort of a mother was she, moving out of state to selfishly start a new life when Joshua was buried in the unyielding earth? A baby’s pitiful cry sounded, plaintive and hungry.
    What if Joshua was in the carriage, hungry and alone, crying out for her?
    Grant dragged her to the entrance, pushed the door open, and attempted to pull her outside.
    â€œI can’t leave him!” Mackenzie exclaimed, her arms craving to feel her son in them one last time. “I can’t leave him!”
    Twisting her wrists free of Grant’s hold, she pushed him outside, jerked the front door shut, and locked it. There was no way she was going to leave Joshua again.
    Mackenzie whirled about and let out a frightened whimper.
    The café was full of shadows and empty of life. Dry leaves and rotting boards crunched beneath her boot heels. There was no sign of any customers, a bustling waitstaff, Tanner, or the cannibal blonde. The baby carriage and the tiny form hidden within were nowhere to be seen. It looked exactly as it had when she had first entered. Abandoned, empty, filthy.
    Shocked, Mackenzie stared at where she’d just had a meal. The table was broken and listing against the wall. The jukebox was gone and the music with it. The café once more smelled of decay, not food.
    She’d finally snapped out of her fugue state. With a soft sob of relief, she pressed one hand to her chest. “It’s gone. Oh, thank God.”
    The pink pepper spray sat on one of the nearby tables, and, heels thumping against the rotting floor, she hurried over and snatched it up.
    â€œHungry,” a voice rasped.
    Twisting about, Mackenzie let out a terrified cry.
    The once perfect blonde sat in her booth in the corner, holding out her skeleton arms. Flayed flesh and muscle dripped from her bones. Her face, neck, and chest were covered in bleeding scratches torn by her own fingers. Huge gaping wounds trickled blood over her flabby naked body.
    â€œI’m so hungry!”
    Appalled, Mackenzie stared, her body frozen.
    Gripping the edge of the table with a skeletal hand, the blonde pulled her large body upright. Leaves skittered over the table as it wobbled, almost tipping over. Mackenzie watched in horror as a leaf fell into the blood spilling onto the floor and gradually disappeared beneath the surface. The squishy sound of the