But as was par for the course in their relationship lately, Kaylee and her mom couldn’t see eye to eye. And now that it was morning, and Kaylee was lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, she was planning to stay in bed until she knew for sure that her mom had left for work.
But her desire to avoid her mom was spoiled when she heard a knock on the door.
“What do you want, Mom?”
No response.
Kaylee threw the covers off and then got to her feet and marched across the room to the door. She paused just in front of it.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work, Mom?”
Still . . . she heard nothing.
Kaylee stared at the door while the seconds ticked by, and her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
“Mom?”
Her hand reached out for the knob, grasping the brass and holding it for several seconds before turning it at last and pulling the door open to see . . .
Nothing.
There was no one there.
Just an empty hall.
She poked her head out to look both ways. That only confirmed that there was no one out there.
Okay . . . that’s weird. She shut the door again. Then she turned around, ready to crawl back in bed.
Until she saw him.
Standing in the center of the room between her and her desk. Dressed all in black with a ski mask covering every part of his face save for his eyes.
Eyes that she recognized instantly.
Eyes that she had seen once before.
Eyes that belonged to the man who murdered Chelsea.
Panic setting in, Kaylee spun around and made a frantic attempt to escape out the door, but her hands barely even grasped the knob before an arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her up off the floor.
Then throwing her back down. Her head and back both slamming hard against the floor, causing her to see stars. Once her vision cleared, she found the murderer looming over her, pointing a gun right at her face.
“No,” she cried and held her arms up to shield her face as if that would actually protect her in some way.
It didn’t.
The intruder showed zero mercy as he squeezed the trigger and sent a bullet flying towards her skull.
7
WHEN KAYLEE’S EYES POPPED OPEN, she was no longer lying on the floor, and the cold-blooded murderer that took her best friend from her was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was in bed. Sunlight infiltrating the room through the gaps in the blinds.
She sat up, pushing the blanket off of her as she did. Brushed her hair behind her ears. She was sweating, and it wasn’t just because of the heat either.
Another nightmare.
A frequent occurrence since that horrible day when Chelsea was killed. They were completely unpredictable too. Sometimes they would happen two or three nights in row, and other times a week would go by without a single one. But they remained a constant threat that loomed over her. Something to worry about every night before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.
She told her mother about her nightmares about a month ago, and all she did was assure her that they would stop eventually, but they hadn’t stopped yet, and Kaylee couldn’t help but wonder if they ever would.
The only plus to the nightmares being so frequent was that it didn’t take her long to get over them. The best thing to do was get right out of bed and not dwell on them for a second, so that was exactly what she did.
She went to the bedroom door. Reached out for the knob but then froze as an image of the intruder flashed before her eyes. It was easy to imagine him standing just outside the door, waiting for her to open it so that he could do the same to her that he did to Chelsea.
Just open the door already, Kaylee told herself, grasping the knob and pushing all thoughts of the intruder out of her head before pulling the door open.
Just like in her dream, she saw nothing but an empty hallway. But he hadn’t been in the hall in her dream either. He had been standing right behind her.
Her feet frozen in place, she fought the urge to turn around. Fought it with every ounce of self-control that she could muster.
But ultimately failed nonetheless.
And looked over her shoulder.
There was no one in the room. She was just freaking herself out . . . again. Annoyed with herself for not ignoring the irrational fear, she left the room and made her way down the hall to the stairs. When she entered the kitchen, she started towards the fridge, but stopped when she noticed a note on the counter. She picked it up and read it.
Make sure you return the plate to the Hendersons before I get home from work today. And thank Claudia for baking the cookies while you’re there!
Love you,
Mom
Kaylee frowned and tossed the note back down on the counter. That was the last thing that she wanted to do. It was just some cookies, and Kaylee didn’t even eat any. Why should she have to return it? Her mom was the one who spent time talking to Claudia and Greg, so shouldn’t she be the one to bring the stupid plate back?
But Kaylee doubted that her mom would see it her way if she came home to find the plate still sitting on the counter next to the note. That would just lead to a lecture on responsibility, which would lead to an argument.
Both things that Kaylee would prefer to avoid.
She went to the fridge to get the milk. She needed a bowl of cereal and a shower at the very least before she was ready to cross the street to the Hendersons’ house.
Setting the cartoon of milk on the counter, she went to the cupboard for a box of cereal while already thinking up excuses in her head in case Claudia asked her to stay and chat. It didn’t take her long.
Kaylee was very good at coming up with excuses.
***
When she left the house, plate tucked under one arm, Kaylee paused just outside the door and took a look around, as she always did whenever exiting or entering a building—a habit she picked up after the day Chelsea was killed.
It drove her mom crazy, but Kaylee really wasn’t interested in her mother’s opinion. Her mom wasn’t there that day. She had no right to judge her.
Kaylee made her way to the end of the driveway and started across the street. As she did, she couldn’t seem to escape the feeling that there were eyes on her. She slowed down. Glanced to her left. Saw Mia sitting on the bench on her front porch again, reading a book. She looked up from her book and offered Kaylee a smile and a small wave, neither of which were returned in kind.
Kaylee continued on her way for a few more feet, still unable to escape the uneasy feeling that she was being watched. She turned to the right next, and saw Frank sneaking a peek at her while halfway hidden behind the tall hedges that surrounded much of his property. As soon as he noticed that he was spotted, he looked away and pretended to busy himself with trimming those hedges.
Kaylee quickened her pace, the mere thought of Frank’s beady eyes glued to her butt as she crossed the street making her skin crawl. The sooner she got this over with, and was back inside the house with all of the doors locked, the better.
Just before reaching the other side of the street, she heard a ball bouncing and glanced in the direction of Eric’s house to see him emerging from the backyard, dribbling a basketball. He held her gaze for a moment before he turned around and fired up a jump shot in the direction of the hoop that hung over the garage door, which he swished with ease.
Kaylee was tempted to approach him, and the old her probably would have, but she couldn’t forget what Mia told her about him. She couldn’t imagine any reason that Mia would tell her something like that if there wasn’t at least a grain of truth to it.
So she continued on to the Hendersons’ front door and rang the doorbell before stepping back and clearing her throat. While she waited for someone to come to the door, she silently rehearsed the excuses she came up with, trying to determine which one was best.
But as the seconds continued to tick by, Kaylee�
��s patience waned. She rang the doorbell once again and followed it up by knocking on the door. That was when she noticed that the door was open just a crack.
Her heart jumped to her throat as terrible memories flooded her mind.
Deep down, all she wanted was to turn around and run back across the street. But what if the Hendersons were in trouble? What if there was an intruder in the house—someone armed and dangerous.
On the other hand, what could she possibly do if there was?
She couldn’t take her eyes off the narrow gap between the door and its frame. What was she so worried about? This was a safe neighborhood. There was a gate that you needed a unique code just to get through. How could an intruder even get in?
Having mostly calmed herself, Kaylee reminded herself that all she had to do was go on in and hand the plate over to Claudia. Then she could go home.
It was that simple.
Pushing all thoughts of home invaders to the deep recesses of her mind, Kaylee pushed the door open to take a peek inside.
The Hendersons’ home was very similar to the house that Kaylee and her mother just moved into. Only without all the unpacked boxes stacked in the corners.
But Kaylee didn’t spend much time or thought on the appearance or layout of the house. She just wanted to get this little errand over with.
“Um, Claudia? Greg? Anybody home?”
She was greeted by only silence. Even after waiting nearly half a minute for a response. She once again considered giving up and leaving, but instead opted to give it one more try.
She stepped inside the house. “Hello? I’m not sure if you know, but your door was open.” She advanced cautiously. “Claudia? I brought back the plate. Thanks for the cookies by the way. They were really . . .”
Her words trailed off when she glanced into the living room and finally found Claudia, only it was not the way that she ever hoped to find her.
Lying on the living room floor. Lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. The carpet around her torso stained with blood from a wound in the center of her chest.
Her heart momentarily forgetting to beat, Kaylee’s jaw dropped while her hands fell limp at her sides. In doing so, the plate slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor.
Shattering into pieces.
8
“AND YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN THAT the door was open when you got here?”
Kaylee was hardly paying attention when the detective asked her the same question for at least the third time. She was sick of this. She just wanted to go home. Wanted to crawl into bed and close her eyes. Drift off to sleep and wake up only to find out this was all nothing but a terrible nightmare.
“Kaylee? Did you hear what I asked you?”
Kaylee looked up at the tall, African American man with the bald head, deep brown eyes, and well-trimmed goatee. His name was Detective Ferguson, and he and a dozen other cops and paramedics arrived on the scene mere minutes after Kaylee managed to snap out of her state of mortified paralysis and dial 911.
“Yes, it was open.” Kaylee surprised herself with how composed she managed to keep her voice considering everything that happened. “Why do you keep asking me that? I told you what happened already. Someone must have broken into the house and killed her.”
“You seem to have it pretty much figured out.” The detective took a seat across from her at the table in the Hendersons’ dining room.
Kaylee narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Doesn’t mean anything.” Ferguson shrugged. “You might be right, but if someone did break in and put a bullet in your neighbor’s chest, who do you suppose might have done it?”
“How am I supposed to know? Maybe it was a burglar.”
“A burglar?”
Kaylee shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Hmm.” He jotted down a few notes on the pad of paper he was holding.
“You don’t believe me?” Kaylee folded her arms and leaned back in her seat.
“I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything.”
“I know. That’s exactly why I’m assuming you don’t believe me.”
“All I’m trying to do is get the facts, Kaylee. Once I have them, I’ll be able to determine what I do and don’t believe. That’s my job.”
Kaylee studied his face. She hated that he was interrogating her like she was a criminal without even answering any of her questions. Although she was used to that from talking to multiple cops in the weeks that followed Chelsea’s murder.
The detective looked as if he were about to ask yet another question when suddenly both he and Kaylee heard raised voices from the other room. It sounded like it was coming from the foyer.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you can’t come in here. This is a crime scene.”
“I don’t care if it’s a crime scene or not, my daughter is in there and I’m not leaving here without her.”
“Ma’am, please. You’re not allowed to come in.”
“If you want to stop me then you’re going to have to shoot me. Is that really what you want to do?”
Detective Ferguson got to his feet. “Is that your mother?”
Kaylee nodded. “Yep . . . that’s her.”
“Good.” He moved to the dining room doorway and peered out. He raised his voice to address the officer guarding the front door. “It’s okay, Reece, you can let her in. Your daughter’s here in the dining room, Mrs. Foster.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and then leaned against the wall. It didn’t take more than three seconds for Kaylee’s mother to come charging through the door. Her face pale and her eyes filled with unmistakable concern. Concern that seemed to alleviate just slightly at the sight of Kaylee sitting at the table.
“Oh my God, Kaylee, are you alright?” She rushed over to her and hugged her from behind—not what Kaylee wanted her to do, which was why she slipped free and got to her feet.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“I was so worried about you.”
“What are you even doing here?”
“I came home for lunch and saw the police across the street. Mia told me you were here, so I rushed over right away.”
Kaylee turned away. She didn’t want her mother here right now. It even bothered her that her mom was happy to see her safe. It made her think back to the day Chelsea died, and the way her mother acted.
She has been so relieved to see Kaylee unharmed . . . but she wasn’t concerned about Chelsea at all. It was like she was relieved that it was Chelsea rather than her own daughter that got killed. Kaylee could never forgive her for that.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Foster?” Detective Ferguson spoke up.
“Who are you?”
“Detective Robert Ferguson.” He stepped forward and offered her his hand. “Do you have any idea why your daughter is here today, Mrs. Foster?”
“I’m not married actually.” She shook his hand and smiled. “And you can call me Juliet.”
Kaylee rolled her eyes. Oh my God, is she seriously flirting with this guy right now?
“Alright then, Juliet. You mind answering my question?”
“Oh, well, didn’t Kaylee tell you why she’s here?”
“She did, but I would like to hear it from you too. Just for my peace of mind.”
“Well, okay. I, um . . . I think she came over here to, um, well . . .”
“She can’t remember because she thinks you’re hot and that’s distracting her,” Kaylee spoke up, having no issue sharing her opinion. She actually liked the fact that she had a chance to embarrass her mom for a change.
“Kaylee.” Her mother looked as if she had just been slapped across the face—eyes wide and mouth agape. “What on Earth are you talking about?”
Shrugging, Kaylee took a seat at the table again. Her mom could play dumb all she wanted. It was still obvious.
Her mother shook her head and then turned to the detective again. “I’m so sorry about that. I really don’t know why my daught
er is acting like this.”
“That’s alright. By the way, about that question. Do you have an answer for me?”
“Oh, yes, I do. She came over here to return a plate. Claudia made us some cookies to welcome us to the neighborhood.”
Ferguson smiled and stuffed his pad of paper back in his coat pocket. Then took a step closer to her. “Do you know why I’m here, Mrs. Foster?”
“I told you, call me Juliet.”
“Fine. Do you know why I’m here, Juliet?”
“I . . . No, I guess I don’t.”
“I’m a homicide detective.”
“Homicide? You mean . . . murder?”
“That’s right. Mrs. Henderson was shot twice in the chest by a twenty-two caliber semi-automatic. Her body was found lying on the floor in her living room. Or more specifically, found by your daughter. We can’t say for sure yet, but we believe she died somewhere between six and eight hours ago.”
“Oh my God.” Kaylee’s mother covered her mouth with her hand. “I can’t believe it. She and her husband were just over at our house yesterday afternoon. Who could have done this?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out. Do you mind if I ask you a couple more questions?” He took the pad of paper out of his pocket again.
“Oh, um, sure, I’d be happy to help in any way that I can of course.”
Kaylee sighed and slumped her shoulders. She knew that a couple of questions meant a lot more than that. She was tempted to ask if she could leave now, but decided against it, not sure that she wanted to leave her mother with this detective in fear of her saying something stupid that might get Kaylee in trouble. She already felt like a suspect.
“How well did you know the victim?” Ferguson asked.
“Not well at all. We only just met Claudia yesterday. She and her husband were over at our house for maybe an hour at the most.”
“And what about the husband. Err . . .” He skimmed through his notes. “Greg? Is that right?”
“Yes.”
The Killer Next Door: A Murder Mystery Page 5
