Chapter 10
Chapter ten
I park the truck just a little way past Parker’s house in a small turn off on the side of the road, tucked safely between some trees.
If she comes home and I’m still here, she won't reach me in this location.
Turning off the engine, I slide out and begin walking through the treeline around her house–my entire body vibrating with excitement.
The bipolar weather has made the forest floor soft and muddy tonight.
Note to self, take off my boots before walking in the house.
Last time I was here I got the impression my girl is a little bit of a neat freak, maybe even a little OCD with how she locks the doors repeatedly.
The last thing I want to do is upset her by tracking the woods inside.
Once I see the dim porch light from the trees, I wirelessly hack her security system and loop her camera feed.
After what happened this morning, losing her visuals, I have no doubt she’s going to call her security company to have them looked at.
Unfortunately for her, I know who owns the company.
I’ve already made a call and asked him to make sure the tech tells her that her system is working properly.
Crossing the drive, I climb the stairs of the deck and head for the front door.
I toe off my boots and tuck them in a corner, my socks now damp from the “Live Laugh Leave” welcome mat that’s soaked from rain.
I let out a chuckle upon seeing the mat and shake my head–I like it.
She doesn’t like people, me either. Peeling off my socks next, I tuck them in the boots and pull out my kit; sliding the stainless steel tools into the lock.
Giving them a delicate twist, the soft click is all I hear before the door swings open.
Stepping inside, I lock the door behind me while I take in the interior of Parker’s home.
Last time I was here I didn’t have the time to take a proper look around, tonight I’m going to inspect everything.
It’s cozy here and empty at the same time.
There’s a subtle lavender and vanilla scent–welcoming and clean.
Walking further into the living room, I take note of the fact there’s not a single picture on her walls. Only some very generic wall decor, pulling together the rustic farmhouse vibe she has going on, but not one family photo.
Her TV stand is white with a dark-stained wood surface on top, housing the television and some basic candles framing both sides.
Matching end tables nestled on both ends of the couch host a single lamp; a single throw blanket draped across the back.
Adjacent to the living room looms the dining area, a small round table bare and lacking any clues to its use.
Not only is her home spotless, but there is no clutter anywhere.
The kitchen is where I decide to start my…
investigating. Most people have a junk drawer and you never know what you'll find in them. The one closest to the refrigerator is where I find what I’m looking for–fuck, there isn't much in it.
Consisting mostly of batteries, screwdrivers of all different sizes, and take out menus.
Pulling them out, I spread them across the counter and start looking for anything of substance.
To my surprise, she has certain items on each menu circled.
Taking out my phone, I begin typing a note with each restaurant and their circled counterparts–they must be her favorites.
Once I’ve recorded everything in my phone I place the items back in the drawer and head toward her bedroom.
Noticing a second one I take a quick detour, I push the door open and pause; it’s barren.
I step inside when my eyebrows pull together.
Usually, a second bedroom is set up as a guest room, home office or even a library.
With her parents living in Florida, wouldn’t she have a bedroom set up for them to come and visit?
Do they visit? After a quick search I find the damn closet empty too.
This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I just find it odd–very odd.
Exiting the room, I return the door to the way it was and ease to her bedroom.
Her scent wraps around me the second I step in and I close my eyes, inhaling her deeply.
The warm aroma of bourbon and light vanilla together?
Intoxicating. I can't wait to run my nose along her flesh and smell it on her, not just in the air. Soon.
Her bed is neatly made, a small pile of laundry on the end of it.
I step over and sit on her side, opening the nightstand drawer–a man on a mission.
A smirk creeps across my face when I spot the 9mm rounds and magazine neatly placed inside.
I like that she’s prepared for anything, even if she came out of those doors this morning ready to shoot whoever it was lurking on her property–me.
I can think of worse things than taking a bullet for or from this beautiful woman.
If it made her feel safe, I’d let her fill me full of holes.
Closing the drawer, I stand and make my way over to the one on the other side, holding my breath.
I don't think there is a man in her life; I’ve been watching closely the last few days and I haven’t seen one.
The other day she visited that older woman, but no one else comes around other than her friend; the idea that maybe she has a boyfriend pisses me off.
Not that it matters, I’ll make him disappear so that my girl and I can be together.
Now that she’s unknowingly caught herself in my crosshairs, there’s no way I’ll be letting her go.
Pulling the drawer, my shoulders sag in relief when I see it’s as empty as the spare room.
Moving cautiously through the room, I open each of her dresser drawers, then shuffle through the contents in her bathroom, pulling my phone back out and adding the shower items she uses and brand of her perfume to my notes. Inspecting her closet again doesn’t turn up anything unusual.
Not at first.
A shelf sits above her handful of hanging clothes, where I notice a safe tucked in the back corner between stacks of neatly folded blankets.
Once I have it down, I’m back in the bedroom placing it on top of the comforter.
It’s one of those smaller fire-safe types, about the size of a shoe box and requires a key to open.
Producing my tools once again, it takes me little to no time to unlock it.
I flip the lid open and take a mental image of how everything is placed before I begin rummaging through it–gotta put everything back in order, of course.
I pull out a birth certificate, social security card, car title, deed to the house.
There is more cash in here than I expected–neatly wrapped in the money bands the banks use, interesting.
At the bottom of the safe I spot a smaller light blue, card sized envelope, not sealed, and the name Nick is scrawled across the front.
Who the hell is Nick? I didn’t see that name listed on her background check, not a family member nor associate.
Jealousy floods my system as I stare at the envelope.
Is he an ex? He must be important seeing as this is stuffed in her safe.
Carefully I pull the contents out and open it gently, surprising considering how I want to tear whatever’s in here to shreds–make Parker forget all about whoever this is.
It’s a letter, written in perfect half-print, half-cursive.
My heart slams against my ribs as I start to read.
Nick,
I know I’m not supposed to get in touch with you, and I won’t send this letter. I just feel so lost right now and wish so badly that I could talk to you, so…figured I’ll write.
Hazel has been wonderful and I have come to think of her as family, in a way she’s the only family I have left. How do you know her? I asked her once and she just smiled and said “Some stories are better left a secret.”
James, the owner of the bar I started working at last week, is very nice.
I can tell he treats the staff at Doc’s well.
I think I‘m going to like working there. There’s also a girl who works with me that I like.
Her name is Ashlynn, and she’s sweet. She keeps asking me to go out with her to have dinner, or go shopping, but I’m not sure if I should.
I wouldn’t know what to tell her if she starts asking too much about me.
This whole thing is still strange, and I think it’s going to take a lot of time to get used to.
But I think I’d like a friend. A true friend.
Thank you for everything, the house, the car, Hazel, for helping me leave. I miss you so much. I wish I could pick up the phone and hear your voice. So much time was wasted, which, I wish I could take back–make the right choices.
You should see how beautiful it is out here, I think you’d like it.
Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I got here safely, and I'm okay. That I’m going to be alright, I will make you proud, I will make Mom and Dad proud.
One day I hope I get to see you or, at least, talk to you again. I love you, and I miss you.
Love, Me
I read the letter over and over and over trying to decipher parts of it.
Who is Nick? Why is she not supposed to contact him?
Is Hazel the woman whose house she went to the other day, or someone else entirely?
How did he help her? I have so many questions rushing through my head as I neatly fold the letter and slide it back in the envelope, then carefully place each item back in the lockbox and return it to its spot.
After making sure everything is the way that she left it, I mosey back to the front door. I knew something was off about the background check, and it isn’t much to go on but I now have a couple of names to begin putting the pieces together.
Exiting the house, I make sure the door is locked then begin putting my damp socks back on–fucking swamp foot, I hate it. I’m forcing my feet back into my boots when I hear a car pass by. I tap the screen on my watch and the face lights up, it’s now two thirty in the morning. Fuck.
I did not intend to spend this long in the house. How in the fuck is it already time for her to be home? There’s no way I spent an hour and fifteen minutes in there. How long did I stare at that fucking letter?
I rush through the final lacings, stand to my full height and freeze when I see headlights coming into the driveway. I’ve got two choices; I can either retreat off the side of the porch and slip into the woods or I can let her catch me.
I must be fucking crazy because I choose option two.
Reaching into the inside of my jacket I pull out the balaclava I keep on me for when I ride in colder temperatures and grin. Rolling it over my face, I adjust it so it sits perfectly–leaving only my eyes visible.
Parker pulls into the driveway, turns off the engine of her Jeep Grand Cherokee, then the headlights follow. My heart is in my throat, I can hear it beating like a drum, easily deafening me. It’s not nervousness I feel though; it’s excitement.
A moment passes before she opens her door and exits, a slight crunch from her shoes hitting the drive, the only other sound between us.
I smirk again as pure thrill rushes through me, drowning me in adrenaline.
I hadn’t planned on letting her find me this soon, but I can't wait anymore. Not after hearing her voice, invading her space and her scent wrapped around my chest like it was ready to squeeze the life out of me. I can’t wait any longer–I need to get my hands on her, to feel her under me, to hear her cry my name.
She’s mine.
I’m motionless as she walks my direction, flipping through her key ring, oblivious to me looming in the shadow of her porch. She's just a few feet away from the first step when she grips the one for the house. When she grabs the railing, climbing the first step, I move forward.
Her head snaps up and her eyes slam into mine, her breath catching in her throat.
Another step forward and the poor thing freezes in place. Where’d all that gusto from this morning go? Wide, beautiful-brown eyes take me in and her lips part as her chest begins to rise and fall quickly.
“Hello, Sweetheart.”