Books by Susan
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Synopsis:
John Box migrated to a small town in Wisconsin in 1910. He bought some land, built a house, and started a rabbit farm. It was a weird shaped house, designed so that he could watch out for predators and keep his rabbits safe. But, the predator that came knocking on his door wasn’t a fox or a weasel. It was a man. A man who would start the chain of horror that would continue for over a hundred years, until the last of John Box’s family was dead.
When Samantha Carlson hears the story of a fortune hidden on this old rabbit farm, she doesn’t hesitate to buy it with expectations of finding the money. Soon realizing that the job is beyond her capabilities, she enables the help of an old friend and together they begin the search. However, when they find human bones buried out by the barn, Samantha wonders if the stories about the house being cursed are true.
After being called out to investigate a murder, Sheriff Pritchard begins to question if he knows his town as well as he thinks he does. Could one of his neighbors in this small town be capable of such an unspeakable act?
Excerpt From: The Box House
Taken from: Chapter Five
(1941)
Gretchen lay on the floor whimpering as she waited for the beating to end. Her hands covered her face, protecting it from his filthy pig shit covered boots. He never aimed for her face. However, on more than one occasion, when he was falling down couldn’t see straight drunk and his aim was bad, her face got the brunt of his anger. Regardless, good aim or bad aim, he always finished with what was supposed to be a kick to the ribs.
“What the hell do ya think you’re doing?” Ray suddenly yelled.
“Step away from my daughter!”
Gretchen pulled her hands away from her face and glanced up. Her mother was standing in the doorway pointing a 12 gauge shotgun at Ray. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and shook her head no. “Don’t do it,” she mumbled.
Ray took a step towards Martha and reached for the gun. “Gimme that gun, you bitch. Who the hell do ya think ya are pointing a gun at me?”
Martha backed away from him and raised the shotgun a little higher. “Step back, Ray. I’m not afraid of you,” she yelled. “Haven’t you had enough of his crap, Gretchen?” she asked her daughter, never taking her eyes off of Ray. “This is going to end now!”
Gretchen looked at her mother, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t….”