by Alison Stone
It was over. This time for real.
When they reached the top, Liam was chatting animatedly with one of the other sheriff's deputies.
"Miss Violet!" Liam turned and ran at her full speed. Theo held up his hand to slow his son down, but it didn't stop his fierce hug. "I'm glad you're okay." Theo’s concerned gaze drifted to his cousin. That would be a tough turn of events to explain to the little boy.
"Me, too," Violet said, each word pinging off her aching skull. "I'm afraid we're going to have to reschedule our snowshoeing lesson."
"That's okay. I got to sit in a patrol car."
Violet couldn't help but smile.
"I'll take you home," Theo told her. "Someone from the sheriff's department can bring your vehicle home." Then he turned to Liam. "Hop in the truck, okay?" Liam did as he was told.
Theo turned to Violet and cupped her cheek. "You're the strongest woman I know. I'm sorry Chad hurt you. I'm sorry I didn't realize what was going on with the business. I should have been more vigilant."
"How could you have known? He was good at hiding it." She winced.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"He hit me pretty hard in the head and my knee hurts.”
"Forget taking you home. Let's get you to the ER."
Violet shook her head. “I just want to go home.”
Olivia walked over, apparently overhearing the conversation. "Can we at least have the EMT look you over?"
"Sure." That much she'd agree to.
The EMT checked her out and told her what to do for the possible concussion and the knee injury, and to go to her doctor immediately if things changed. Violet signed some paperwork acknowledging she was refusing treatment against medical advice. She was not going to the ER. She wanted nothing more than to go home.
"Everything okay?" Olivia wandered over to the back of the ambulance.
"I'll be fine," Violet was getting tired of repeating herself.
Olivia touched her brother's arm. "I'll take Liam with me and drop him off at his aunt's house. The other deputy is taking Chad in." She gestured with her chin to Violet. "Get her home. Keep an eye on her, okay?" Olivia gave a subtle nod to the EMT.
"Thank you," Violet mouthed, afraid the sound would hurt her head.
They watched as Liam got out of his dad’s truck and hopped into the back seat of his aunt's cruiser and waved. For now, this all seemed like some awesome adventure for him. A story he’d be talking about to all his classmates.
Violet blinked against the bright sunlight reflecting off the snow. What had started off as a splendid morning now hurt her eyes. Theo guided her to his truck and reached around her to open the door. Then he trapped her face between his hands and kissed her, his lips gentle, warm and inviting.
"I don't know what I would have done if—"
She wrapped her hand around his wrist. "It didn't, because of you. Thank you." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Take me home."
Epilogue
Six weeks later…
Christmas Eve
Betty hung the last ornament on the ten-foot Christmas tree and stepped back. "Beautiful," she said with breathless awe.
Violet took a sip of wine and smiled. "It is."
When Violet came to Hunters Ridge this past fall, she never dreamed she'd still be here through the holidays. Well, if she had thought about it, it would have been because at one point she feared she'd never get over her anxiety.
But thankfully, she had been managing it quite well, thanks to getting the treatment she needed, surrounding herself with loved ones and faith, something she had forgotten until her return to Hunters Ridge.
"I haven't put up a big tree like this since you were in high school. Remember?"
"I do." Violet ran her smooth fingers over the soft needles. Betty's love for Christmas had offset Jacque's complete disregard for it. If anything, Violet's mother would breeze into Hunters Ridge with a few gifts and right back out, as if staying here for any length of time would be too demanding. This year, Jacque was spending Christmas in Turks and Caicos. She claimed she was allergic to the cold. "In all the apartments I've had, I've never put up a tree. It never seemed worth it. I'd usually be on the road in some hotel during Christmas," Violet said.
Betty touched her arm. "I'm sorry your mother's not going to make it to Hunters Ridge for Christmas."
Violet covered Betty's hand with hers. "I'm happy to be here with you and Isaac. It'll be a wonderful Christmas."
Betty gave her a knowing smile, apparently appreciating Violet's attempts at making her feel like she was the reason Violet had stayed.
As if on cue, the doorbell chimed. "I believe we have a guest." Betty made toward the door and Violet stopped her.
"Let me." Excitement tangled in her belly at seeing Theo. She had seen him every day at work, but that didn't stop her from being thrilled now, too. They had untangled the financial mess that Chad had created, and his cousin had promised to make restitution to the company. Chad still wasn't out of legal trouble—his trial for all his crimes against Violet was scheduled for mid-January. But that was neither here nor there, for now. He wasn’t able to make bail, so he wasn’t going to be bothering anyone.
And the detective in New York had told her they were going ahead with charges against the man already in custody for Abby’s murder. For the first time in a long time, she let herself believe it was over. She begrudgingly had to admit her mother was right in downplaying her concerns of a stalker. Perhaps Violet’s tendency toward panic attacks made everyone seem threatening, even if they were harmless tagalongs who wanted to get close to a movie star and her family. All the same, she doubted she’d ever get used to that.
Violet smoothed a hand down her sweater and pulled open the door, determined to have one of the best Christmases ever. Liam burst through the door and peeled off his coat and boots and dropped them in a pile in the grand entryway. He caught sight of the tree and bolted toward it. Theo called after him to pick up his things.
"It's okay. It’s Christmas. He’s allowed to be a little excited. Let him go."
Violet hung Liam’s coat over the banister and lined up his little boots on a small rug near the door.
Theo leaned over and pressed a kiss to her lips. "Hello."
She smiled and pressed into him. "Hello, yourself."
At that moment, Isaac, Betty's husband, came out of the kitchen dressed like Santa with a sack of gifts over his shoulder.
"Oh no, what is Santa doing here already?" Violet playfully put a hand over her mouth in feigned surprise. "It's only Christmas Eve."
"Santa has to get on the road. Ho, ho, ho. He thought he'd make a stop here first." Isaac rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet, getting into character.
Liam stood wide-eyed as Santa handed out gifts for everyone. Theo's son discovered he had a brand-new pair of snowshoes and a promise from Violet to finally take him out on the trails now that her knee was better.
When everyone finished opening their gifts and Santa left through the back door, Betty ushered Liam into the kitchen for hot chocolate. When Violet started to follow, Theo caught her hand gently and laced his fingers between hers. "I think there's a gift you missed."
Violet studied Theo for a long moment before he smiled, dipped his head and picked up a small gift tucked under the tree.
"It has your name on it."
With shaky hands, Violet took the small gift and unwrapped it. Underneath the fancy silver Christmas wrap she found a black box. Theo took it from her and got down on one knee.
Violet's heart raced. Her skin tingled. Excitement washed over her. All in a happy way. She pressed her palms together and touched her lips. "Oh, Theo…"
Theo snapped open the box and a sparkly diamond sat in a black felt holder. "Violet Jackson, will you marry me?"
Tears of joy sprang to her eyes. She pulled him to his feet and hugged him and tucked her face into his neck.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes. "Is tha
t a yes?"
"Yes, yes, yes!"
He covered her mouth with his and they kissed for a long minute.
"Yuck!" They jumped apart to find Liam staring up at them. "Are you guys coming in for hot chocolate or what?"
Theo tousled his son's hair. “How do you feel about Miss Violet becoming your stepmom?"
“Pretty cool,” Liam said. “It’s about time.”
Theo and Violet laughed, then Theo grew serious. He took Violet's hand and slipped on the ring. She held up her hand to examine it. It was a perfect fit.
The ring. Her new job. Her new life.
Violet Jackson had never been happier.
Six months later…
"The newspapers are here. I put them on the stand inside the door," his doorman said cheerily. A little too cheerily for this early in the morning. The heat was already rolling off the New York City pavement, emitting a sour smell of spoiled food, rotting garbage and festering humanity.
Altogether too many people encroaching on his private world.
He nodded without saying anything. People talked entirely too much. Blah, blah, blah…sharing all the details of their day without regard for who was listening or watching.
So careless…
He grabbed a newspaper and tucked it under his arm. The doorman probably thought he had been out for an early morning jog, but he had only now been returning from a night out in his black sweatpants and T-shirt.
But he didn't share his business. Never felt obligated to. That only led to more questions.
He jabbed the button on the elevator and waited, glad the doorman hadn't followed him. This particular doorman had a newborn son and liked to work the night shift because his wife—a petite woman with weary eyes—worked days at the makeup department at the flagship department store.
Entirely too much info. But people insisted on sharing, as if the mundane facts of their lives were pounding on the back of their lips, eager to make their escape into the world.
The doorman had been dozing when he slipped out late last night, otherwise he would have had to plan his return more carefully.
He shifted his train of thought, still in processing mode. Processing everything he had seen last night while standing in the shadows. It took him a good hour to come down from the high.
Blondie making her dinner over the stove.
The dark-haired woman so intent on reading her book on the fire escape that she never saw him one fire escape away taking photos on his smartphone. Don’t get him started on that trend. People were entirely too obsessed with themselves. Always taking selfies. But at least that helped him blend in. Rarely did anyone question why he was taking a photo.
His nocturnal adventures also included tracking a woman past her prime making the walk of shame out of a nearby apartment building. He almost followed, but something made him stop.
Only the select few were worth more than a passing glance. Others intrigued him. Some, if they knew, would say he was obsessed. Maybe he was. But shouldn’t they be flattered? Shouldn’t they reciprocate his devotion?
The elevator dinged open and he stepped inside. He took himself and the newspaper into the studio apartment and locked the door. He crossed the room, the newspaper clippings tacked to the wall fluttering as he passed. He hardly read the headlines anymore, but it gave him comfort knowing they were there.
He poured himself some coffee from the automatic coffee maker. He had set the timer, as he had set his daily routine. He pulled down the shade on the window. Couldn't be too careful. Someone could be watching.
He drew in a deep breath. He loved the smell of coffee; it purged the smells of the big city from his nostrils.
He unfolded the paper and turned to the society page. It amazed him, the details people loved to share about their lives. Even though social media had been a boon to him, he still liked to cover all his bases.
There was something about being able to touch, see, smell the print of the newspaper.
He ran his hand over the bright smiles of an older couple—why did the rich geezers always marry younger blondes?—who were trying to stay relevant by giving an obscene amount of money to some obscure charity.
His eyes traveled down the page and his heart almost stopped. Blinking rapidly, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Were his eyes playing tricks on him after he'd stayed up all night?
He set his mug down and the coffee sloshed over the side, soiling the paper. He pushed back his chair, the legs scraping across the floor. He opened the kitchen drawer and removed the scissors.
Lining up the blades perfectly on the paper, he made a cut up the side, across the top, and down the other side of the article, careful not to slice any words.
He picked up the clipping and tacked it to the wall with the rest. He leaned back and read it again:
The daughter of movie star Jacque Caldwell engaged to business owner Theodore J. Cooper…
"Mrs. Caldwell’s only daughter…graduated from…blah, blah, blah…" he muttered out loud, his excitement ramping up.
He couldn't believe his good fortune.
He continued to read out loud. "The ceremony will take place on August eighth in Ms. Caldwell's country home in Hunters Ridge, New York before taking an extended honeymoon…"
Hunters Ridge.
With his pulse whooshing in his ears, he ran to his laptop and flipped it open. He searched "Jacque Caldwell" and "Hunters Ridge." Then he did the same for “Violet Jackson.” He couldn't find any real estate transactions in Hunters Ridge. His blood slowed to a sluggish whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. That's why he had never been able to find Violet during her teenage years, and then again when she disappeared more recently.
He traced Violet’s familiar cheekbones in the photo. She always had been photogenic. Shame she hid from the spotlight. He had begun tracking her again when she got an apartment in New York City. Girl traveled too much for his tastes. Made it more difficult to watch.
But one night when she was back in New York, he got close. Very close.
Darn friend got in the way. How had he made that mistake? He had been so careful. So watchful.
A yellowing newspaper clipping on the wall about an unsolved murder made him proud. Below it was an article about an arrest in the case. He laughed. They were too stupid to realize they had the wrong guy.
No one will ever stop me.
He opened up a new tab on his computer. As much as he hated to leave the city where he stalked his prey, he decided it was time for a trip to Hunters Ridge. To finally catch the one who got away.
Hunters Ridge Book 2
Learn more…
If you enjoyed Plain Obsession, please consider leaving a short review on Amazon. Thank you!
Also by Alison Stone
Too Close to Home
(Read on for a sneak peek…)
ONE
The Watcher stood silent at the edge of the property, taking a long drag on his cigarette. He blew out a slow, smoke-filled breath and flicked the butt into the night. He stomped the glowing ember with the steel toe of his work boot.
Nasty habit is going to kill me. One side of his mouth curved up. If he lived long enough.
He returned his attention to the brightly lit clapboard-covered house, watching, waiting, obsessing as he had done for the last ten minutes.
As he had done for the last ten years. He hoped to catch a glimpse of the occupants—one in particular. He lingered longer than he had planned, comfortable in the knowledge no one could see him even if they had bothered to peer into the darkened backyard. And he fully expected they were far too busy with their joyous homecoming to bother.
A cool breeze whipped up from the northwest, rustling the few remaining leaves clinging to the branches above. A few leaves, their life cycle complete, floated to earth. He hated this time of year. Nothing good ever came from it. And from the looks of it, this autumn would be no exception.
She appeared in the kitchen window. The fine hairs on the back of his neck sto
od on end. He took a small backward step toward the tree line, the jagged weeds scraping against his jeans.
Did she see me?
A silent laugh whispered past his lips. Don’t be paranoid, man. Maybe she was doing the dishes. Or getting a drink of water. It didn’t matter. As long as she wasn’t watching him watch her.
Tears filled his eyes, catching him by surprise. She wore her auburn hair long now, and even from this distance she looked good. Healthy. A smile on her face.
His jaw trembled. “Silly fool,” he whispered to no one but the shadows.
Sadness morphed to anger. A deep-seated anger. Life wasn’t fair.
Why was she still living, breathing when—
He cut the thought off. He was a complete failure. Refusing to watch anymore, he lowered his head and stuffed his cold, wet hands into his thick winter coat, glad he had left the thin windbreaker at home. The night temperature had dropped as quickly as his mood. He tucked his chin into the coat’s collar as a shiver coiled up his spine.
He turned to walk away.
The Watcher had witnessed what he had dragged himself out of his cozy, warm house to see. Kathryn McNabb had returned to Midport, New York. Now he had to make sure she left. One way or another.
Failure was not an option.
Read more of TOO CLOSE TO HOME.
Also by Alison Stone
Treehaven Press
Too Close to Home
Random Acts
Waterfall Press
Pointe and Shoot
Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense
Plain Pursuit
Critical Diagnosis
Silver Lake Secrets
Plain Peril
High-Risk Homecoming
Plain Threats
Plain Protector
Plain Cover-Up
Plain Sanctuary
For a complete list of titles visit:
AlisonStone.com
