Let Her Rest by J.R. Erickson

Let Her Rest

Let Her Rest by J.R. Erickson
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.8 MB

J.R. Erickson was born in Lansing, Michigan and grew up in Mason where she lived with her parents and sister on a 40 acre pseudo-farm. Pseudo because there was no planting, to speak of, just a hodge podge of creatures from pigmy goats to raccoons. In addition to nature, reading and writing were her major passions and she passed many a summer scribbling horror stories on tattered sheets of notebook paper that her cousins Matt and Jen illustrated.

A night so terrifying, he blocked it for thirty years…
Jake Edwards hasn’t thought about the Northern Michigan Asylum in three decades.
When Petra, a mysterious woman from his childhood, appears at his business, he suspects a practical joke.
Until the woman vanishes, leaving behind a blood-spattered apartment and a trail of secrets that all lead back to the shuttered asylum.
As Jake digs into his dark past, he must face the sinister forces who have been hunting him for decades.

“Uh, no, sorry. Jake Edwards, not Dunn.” He thrust out his hand, but she didn’t take it.  

Her own hands, narrow, bony and covered in silver rings, stayed at her sides. “I’m Petra Collins. Do you remember me?”

Jake stared at her, puzzled. He doubted he could have forgotten her. The name alone should have rung a few bells, but he drew a blank. “No, I’m sorry. Did you ask about some excavating work or—?” He gestured emptily. Or what, he didn’t know.

She looked at Barbie and then Allen and Jerry. “It’s probably best if we speak in private. Do you have an office?”

She was very forward and Barbie stiffened at the suggestion that Jake would have anything to say to this woman that he couldn’t say within her earshot.

“Sure, yeah. Follow me.” He gave Barbie an appeasing look and opened a door into the inner office. 

Bids and rolled prints covered his desk except for a small space in the front where he scratched out property diagrams, estimated costs, and sometimes doodled as he planned out projects in his head. It didn’t have the homey feel that Barbie had created in the outer office. The walls were white and bare. The only item of décor was a lamp pushed to the corner of the desk as paper filled its original spot.

“Oh,” he said, realizing the office contained only one chair, his own. He dipped back into Barbie’s office and grabbed a chair, dragging it into the room and avoiding Barbie’s curious gaze and the matching smirks on Jerry and Allen. “Here, have a seat,” he told Petra.

Jake hurried around to his own chair, feeling oddly nervous. He disliked sitting in the stark little room with the stranger, a woman he’d easily have noticed at a bar, but who in the confines of his office made him uneasy.

Petra sat in the chair and folded her hands in her lap, studying him. “Your eyes are the same,” she told him.

He blushed and fidgeted in his chair, steepling his hands on the desk and then pulling them down to tap his thighs. She wasn’t hitting on him, but the way she’d spoken revealed an intimacy that implied they’d known one another for a very long time. “How do I know you, Petra? I’m not usually one to forget a face.”

Petra smiled, but there was no mirth in the expression. “Thirty years ago, this wasn’t my face. I had a little girl’s face.” 

Jake frowned. “We knew each other as children?” 

Jake had few memories from his childhood. The black hole of trauma, one of his ex-girlfriends had called it while simultaneously nudging him into couples therapy. He’d quit the therapy and the girlfriend after one session.

“I didn’t expect you to remember me,” she admitted. “Maybe my name. I never forgot you, though. You and Maribelle. You were the only friends I had in those days.”

Jake frowned and his heart seemed to lurch at the name, Maribelle, though that too brought nothing in the form of memories. “Did we meet in Alpena?” he asked.



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