Covet thy Neighbor (EBOOK)

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Chapter One

A crash echoes across the yard from my neighbor’s house. I startle, spilling ice coffee on my hand and shorts. Crap, that’s going to stain. I place my cup on the patio table and stand, shoving the chair back. Two steps across my deck, I stop, chew on my bottom lip, and shift my weight from side to side.

The last time I set foot on his property he grunted, snatched the plate of welcome to the neighborhood cookies out of my hands, and closed the door in my face.

Not an experience I care to repeat.

What if he’s hurt? If I do nothing, and he’s injured, what kind of person does that make me?

Damn it!

Standing around debating the issue wastes precious time if he’s bleeding out or something. On TV, the ambulance always makes it to the hospital at the last possible minute before death or permanent disability occurs, but that’s just drama, right?

I jog down my deck steps and across my yard into his. The line of waist high holly bushes separating our properties snag at my clothes and scrape against my skin.

Should I knock on the front door or go to the back? The crash came from his backyard. He’s probably fine and simply dropped something, or maybe thrown it in a fit of rage.

Rolling my eyes, I veer towards the back of the gray colonial. Time is of the essence.

I reach the blue stone patio and jerk to a stop. A ladder is on its side and my neighbor is flat on his back.

I gasp and sprint around the low wall edging the patio.
Crap! Is he dead? Did I waste precious minutes debating when I could have saved him?

His eyes are open and staring at the sky. Is he breathing?
I reach for my phone in my back pocket as I step onto the stones. His blond head swivels in my direction and his dark gaze locks on me. I stumble to a stop a few feet away.

“Are you okay?”

“Who the hell are you?”

As charming as ever, I see. I point towards my house. “Your neighbor. I heard a crash.”

He springs to his feet in a single flow of movement.
Impressive ab strength to accomplish that feat. My gaze drifts over his tall, rangy build. Yeah, there are serious muscles flexing under those jeans and T-shirt. They all appear to be in fine working order. No damage done. He isn’t in need of my assistance. I shove my phone back into my pocket.

“Are you in the habit of barging onto private property?”
He braces his fists on his hips and scowls.

For real? Next time I hear a crash over here, I’ll turn on the music and pour a glass or two of wine.

I huff out a breath and scowl right back. “No, like I said, I heard a crash and wanted to make sure no one was hurt.”

“As you can see, I’m not in need of a Florence Nightingale.”

I glance away. Okay, after our first encounter I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone has a bad day, but this guy is a jerk.

Through the open patio door, I spot a gun, some type of rope, and an assortment of knives and sharp objects strewn across a table.

I snap my gaze back to his and swallow hard. “Yup, I can see that.” I back up several steps. “I won’t bother you again.”

Grabbing my phone out of my pocket in case he decides to commit violence against me, I pivot and stride across his lawn as fast as I can, short of breaking into a run. The urge to glance back over my shoulder to see if he is watching me crawls up my neck, but I stare at the solace of my little blue cape.

Once I reach my back deck, I dart inside and lock the door behind me. I grip the doorknob in my fist as I sag against the door.

Okay, not going to panic, I’m sure there are many reasons for him to have an assortment of weapons on his kitchen table.

Just because I can’t think of a single reasonable, nonviolent one, doesn’t mean I should jump to any conclusions.

Thank God the boys are back at school. I might feel the need to bundle them close, pack up our stuff, and take off for parts unknown.

Imagination in overdrive, Olivia! Dial it back a notch or two.

I wipe the dots of perspiration off my nose with the back of my hand. Not sure if it was from the run, the heat, or the fear, but my clothes are sticking to my skin. One more summer where central air conditioning isn’t in the budget. Fans and window units will have to suffice. Besides, it’s already September and the heat should give way to cooler temperatures soon.

I push off from the door and walk around the corner to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face and neck and then wipe it off with a towel. I check the time on my phone, ten o’clock. My shift at the bakery starts soon.

Upstairs, I peek out my bedroom window at the gray colonial while slipping into a sleeveless pink sundress. My disagreeable neighbor is nowhere in sight. I walk back into the bathroom and comb my hair back into a ponytail, put on a few swipes of mascara to darken my pale lashes, and rub a tinted lip balm onto my lips.
From the bathroom window I can see more of his backyard, but there’s no sign of him. He probably went inside. I check the windows of his house. Nothing stirs. What if he’s looking out one of his windows at my house like I’m doing to him? I jump back and shuffle backwards out of the room into the hallway.

If I couldn’t see into his windows, then he can’t possibly see into my windows, can he? Not without a pair of binoculars.

Great, now the image of him staring into a pair of binoculars at my house is stuck in my head. At least it’s better than him holding one or more of those weapons.

Or worse, chasing me with those weapons.
 





Chapter Two

“My neighbor is a serial killer.”

“Umm…is that fact or supposition?” Lucinda’s blonde eyebrows arch halfway up her forehead as she leans against the marble counter nibbling on a piece of muffin.

The aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies wafts across the kitchen after Franny opens the ovens. She puts the trays of cookies on the rolling rack in front of the ovens and props her hands on her hips. “You didn’t go back there without me, did you? I told you I would go.”

I shake my head and lift myself onto the counter next to the sink. “No—well, not intentionally. I was sitting on my back deck this morning enjoying my second cup of coffee while contemplating my life and what the hell I want to do with it when I heard a crash next door. So, of course, I went over to ensure no one was dying or anything.”

“You went over there thinking you lived next door to a serial killer? Why didn’t you call the police?” Lucinda drops the rest of her muffin into the garbage and brushes the crumbs off her fingers. “Have you called the police?” She glances at Franny. “She’s not serious, is she?”

Franny holds up a finger to her sister. “Hold on, Luce. Olivia, what happened?”

“My neighbor was on his patio, lying on his back, just staring at the sky. There was a ladder on its side near him. To be honest, for a second, I thought he might be dead. Then he jumped up and yelled at me for trespassing. I was ready to give him hell right back, but when I noticed the large assortment of weapons littering his kitchen table, I left.”

Franny frowns and glances at her sister. “This guy moved in next door to Olivia and was rude when she welcomed him to the neighborhood. She did a search for him on the internet and came up with nothing. She has her twin boys to worry about, so she’s cautious. I told her I would go with her next time because there’s plenty of reasons the guy might be unfriendly, but obviously her instincts were right in the first place. There’s something fishy going on.”

“I know I’m paranoid, but being a mother makes me worry about all sorts of things. So, when someone new moves into the neighborhood or comes into their lives, I do a quick search online and not only the predator lists, but a general hunt to make sure there are no red flags. Luke Hollister has no online presence whatsoever. No social media, nothing. That’s weird, right? Now, coupled with his behavior and the weapon stash—I’m not crazy to worry, am I?”

Lucinda shakes her head. “Not at all, I can only imagine what you have to worry over as a parent. And, although there is nothing criminal about being rude or unfriendly, I admit the multitude of weapons is questionable.” She raises her hand. “However, he could simply be a collector. Perhaps we shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.”

“Spoken like the lawyer you are.” Franny smirks.

“A collector of weapons? I admit I didn’t think of that. My mind went straight to murderous intent.” I swing my feet and stare at the black and white squares of tile on the floor. All right, my paranoia for my kids’ safety might be getting out of control.

“I’m simply throwing out other options. My firm in Connecticut had a private investigator on retainer. Would you like me to call him and ask for a referral for someone here in New Hampshire? Or we could ask our father to check with his former firm and see if they recommend anyone in the area.”

“You think Granite Cove is big enough to have a private investigator?” Franny leans on the counter with folded arms. “I’d like to see Mother’s face when you ask Dad for the name of a private investigator though.”

“Ha ha.”

“Thanks guys, but hiring an investigator isn’t exactly in my budget.” I cross my ankles and sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to keep a close eye out and make sure my two devils don’t go wandering out of our yard.”

“Well, don’t go back over there, no matter what you hear.”

I nod at Franny. “I have no intention of setting foot on his property again. Maybe it’s time I replaced the fence between our properties. There used to be a split rail fence, but it rotted in places so the former owner tore the whole thing out before listing it for sale. I could put in a tall solid fence with barbed wire at the top.”