Watcher (The Shining Ones Book 1)

by Shawnee Small

  “Would you keep it down,” he said under his breath. He leaned toward me, irritation on his face.

  “Keep it down? I’ve just started.” I let my outrage take over.

  “There is no need for this,” Adam said, jabbing his finger at me. “I did nothing wrong. I only did what was right.”

  “Oh, really? What was so right about this?” I stood rigid with my tray tucked under one arm while I flung my free hand up over my head.

  Suddenly, he stood up. He grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me to within a foot of his body. The buzzing from his touch was like a slap in the face.

  “Do you dislike me so much that you’d force her on me?” I struggled to keep my voice under control, his nearness almost overwhelming me.

  Adam shook his head and stared back at me before grimacing, then letting out a long sigh. “I do not dislike you.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because you and I‌—‌it will not work.” His words were awkward as he searched my eyes before turning aside and pushing himself away, a safe distance between us again. I just nodded, unable to speak. If I said another word, the tears would come.

  Brianna’s timing was impeccable as she strutted out of the kitchen doors. “Did I miss anything?”

  “No. Did you get what you needed?” he asked politely before extending his arm toward her. This time it was his turn to usher Brianna toward a door.

  I felt sick. Haylee gave me a sideways glance.

  Brianna beamed up at Adam and ignored me completely as they walked toward the door.

  “Goodbye, Haylee,” said Adam as he opened the door for Brianna. He gave Birdie a quick nod as he followed Brianna out into the cold.

  The tears came unbidden then.

  He hadn’t even said goodbye.

  ***

  I could’ve sworn I’d locked the trailer door.

  Standing frozen on the front porch, I stared at the open door and tried to will it back shut, but there was no point. My front door sat forlorn on its hinges. Large chunks of wood were missing from the jamb, as if someone had taken a crowbar to it. Panic made its way up my spine.

  Someone had broken into my trailer, and I stood alone on my front porch in the dark.

  I glanced nervously from side to side, waiting for an ambush that never came. No bogeyman rushed out to grab me and drag me into the darkness. No burglar charged from my trailer wielding a knife‌—‌or any other type of weapon, for that matter. Instead, everything was perfectly quiet. Hesitantly, I tiptoed through the door.

  Bile rose up into my throat as I surveyed the carnage. Every ounce of my personal space had been defiled. Smashed coffee cups and plates lay scattered on the linoleum floor near the kitchen sink. A kitchen cabinet door hung onto its pressboard base by a single rusty screw. My old sofa was ruined‌—‌it’d been massacred. The stuffing from the pillows was strewn about my small, cramped living room like fluffy cotton entrails.

  The destruction was unbelievable. It was like I had walked into one of those home improvement shows where they destroyed your house before putting it back right. Only this was no TV show, this was real life. Someone had trashed my trailer.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  In my shock, I had forgotten about Daisy. Where was my dog?

  My stomach lurched as I took off down the hallway, rushing into the bedroom, shouting her name. I flicked on the light switch, but she wasn’t there. My bedroom was in tatters, just like the rest of the trailer, but it somehow looked worse.

  My nightstand had been overturned, and the contents of its drawers had been carelessly tossed on the bed. Extra art supplies, bottles of perfume, and even a handful of condoms were jumbled up in the bed covers. One of the bottles of perfume had broken, and the bed reeked of the cloying perfume Penny had given to me years ago that was more appropriate for an old lady than a young girl.

  A whimper from under the bed made my heart stop.

  I dropped to all fours and braced myself for something horrible. Calling Daisy’s name in the calmest tone I could muster, I watched as my beautiful dog slowly scraped herself out from under the bed. She wagged her tail hesitantly at me, and my heart broke. I grabbed her by the chest and squeezed hard, getting a giant wet kiss for my effort. Daisy wagged her tail and leaned into my embrace. She was okay.

  Not so for the rest of my things. My clothes had been shredded, and night creams and makeup were smeared over walls, furniture, any surface the intruder had felt the need to leave his mark on. It made me feel nauseated and violated. My sacred space had been ransacked. Who would do such a thing? Why was I targeted?

  I sat down on my bed to try to make sense of it all. The logical part of me told me I needed to call the police, but the emotional part said it was useless. What would they say to make this right? What could they do? The best-case scenario would be a police report with an inventory of what was destroyed and what was stolen. It would be impossible to tell what was missing until I cleared up this mess, and I didn’t know if I had it in me tonight. Plus, the police were caught up with the murders. Why even bother?

  Right then something told me to look up. I don’t know what it was‌—‌a sixth sense or some gut feeling‌—‌but I lifted my head and gazed at the top of my dresser. It appeared to be the only part of my trailer that hadn’t been touched. Everything on the top of it was exactly as I’d left it: a hairbrush and some hairspray with the cap left off, a lip gloss, a makeup compact and my turquoise pendant.

  And Ellie’s mood ring.

  It stood shiny, erect, and clean in the center of the dresser, its stone a swirling storm of colors. There was no seaweed, no tarnish from saltwater‌—‌nothing that indicated it might’ve come from Amanda’s finger.

  I got up slowly and made my way unwillingly toward the ring. I felt creeped out, but couldn’t resist taking a closer look. I stood in front of the dresser and hesitated for a moment. Where had it come from? Who had brought it back to me?

  I picked the ring up off the dresser and turned it over in the palm of my hand. It didn’t have a single scratch, dent, or flaw. In fact, it looked better than it had on the day Penny had given it to me so many years ago. I placed the ring back on the dresser and tried to push down the anxiety. The ring should’ve brought me relief, but it didn’t.

  Instead, it brought me dread.

  I left my trailer with Daisy in tow, not bothering to lock the door. What was the point? There was nothing inside worth stealing. What could a small-town waitress have that someone else would want?

  With nowhere to go, I drove to Haylee’s. There were lights on even at this late hour. I knocked on the front door as a pale version of Haylee peeked out from behind a curtain before disappearing again. Seconds later, the front door swung open, and Haylee stood in the doorway, concern clearly plastered across her face.

  “What’s happened?” she asked.

  “Someone broke into my trailer.”

  She stopped and stared at me. “What?”

  “I came back from work tonight and my trailer was completely trashed. Someone broke in and really went to town. It’s a mess.” I said it quickly before I choked on the words.

  “Jesus,” uttered Haylee.

  “Can I come in? Please? I’m exhausted. I don’t know where else to go.” It wasn’t lost on me that I’d had this same conversation with Amanda only weeks before, but I’d been on the receiving end. Haylee stepped away and opened the door wider.

  “Do you want somethin’ to drink?” Haylee squeezed my shoulder as I walked inside, followed by Daisy.

  “Do you have any beer?”

  “You sure?” She eyed me up and down.

  “I’d say given everything that has happened today, I deserve one.”

  Haylee gave me a nod and walked off into the kitchen. I could hear the crack of the refrigerator door and then the distinctive pop of a carbonated beverage being pried open with a bottle opener. There was a second pop.

&n
bsp; Haylee strolled back into the living room with a beer in each hand. I looked at her questioningly.

  “I figured if you’re havin’ one, I can have one, too,” she said with a shrug. She handed me a beer before plopping down next to me on the couch. “Tell me.” So I did.

  “How bad is the trailer, really?” Haylee asked as she scooted over closer to me on the couch.

  “It’s bad,” I said, swallowing hard. It made me squeamish just thinking about it.

  “Will your insurance cover it?” she asked.

  I laughed before shaking my head. “Are you serious? What insurance?” I took another swig of beer.

  “You don’t have no insurance?”

  “I never thought it’d be a problem. I mean, who would break into a trailer?”

  Haylee tugged on her dreads as she thought about what I’d just said. “Did they take anythin’? Jewelry? Money?”

  “Nothing appears to be missing, but–” I hesitated.

  “What?”

  Should I tell her about the ring?

  “My dresser was the only thing that wasn’t trashed, and I found Ellie’s ring back on top it.” I waited for a startled reaction, but got the exact opposite.

  “Well, maybe you just forgot where it was or somethin’.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “That ring went missing when Amanda did. When I found it on the dresser, it looked like it hadn’t been touched. In fact, it looked better than that‌—‌it looked like new.”

  “Maybe you made a mistake.”

  “Haylee, I’m serious. I know where that ring is at all times,” I said, pushing the point.

  “Okay, fine. So are you tellin’ me someone broke into your trailer and trashed it in order to give you some ol’ ring back? Oh, and they cleaned it up and made it look all shiny and new?” Haylee gave me that are-you-crazy look.

  “I know. It sounds nuts,” I replied.

  “So, what now?” asked Haylee.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, what are you gonna do about the mess and that she-devil’s party?” Haylee got up and strolled back into the kitchen for more beer. She returned with two more bottles and sat back down.

  Unsure, I shrugged. “I’ll clean up the mess and make the best of it. I can go down to Goodwill and get some stuff to tide me over until I save up some money.” I tried to stay optimistic. “As for the party, I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Haylee looked at me as if I had grown donkey ears. “You ain’t gonna suck up to that ho bag, are you?”

  “I don’t have a choice.” I wiped a dribble of beer from my mouth.

  “Oh, hell yes, you have a choice! That bitch ain’t going to push you around,” she exclaimed, all the while wobbling her head.

  “There’s no way. All Stevie sees is dollar signs on this one,” I replied. “He won’t back down.”

  “Shit. So that’s it?”

  I nodded. “We’re hosting a Christmas party for Brianna,” I said with resignation in my voice.

  There was no getting away from it.

  14

  The next ten days passed quickly, quicker than I would’ve thought possible, given all that had to be done. Between coordinating food, decorations, a jazz quartet, and if you could believe it, a real live Santa, along with cleaning out the wreckage of my trailer and working my normal hours at the bar, life was nonstop and chaotic. I didn’t have time to think about what was going on. I was up, I worked, I called vendors, I shoved bits of my broken life into trash bags, I tried to sleep. It was a surreal time, and that was probably for the best because it helped me keep my sanity.

  It also helped that Adam had kept a low profile since our confrontation at Paddy’s. He’d taken the hint, which meant he was pretty much incommunicado when it came to organizing the party and didn’t show up for any of Brianna’s other meetings, either. In fact, if he hadn’t shown up that first day, I would’ve never known he was involved, except, of course, it was at his house. That was the worst part, actually. Meeting Brianna at Adam’s to make final arrangements for the party was something I could’ve done without. I got through it all and yet I was still filled with anxiety when the time came.

  I glanced down at my black skirt and red, flouncy blouse and grimaced. My pantyhose had dropped in the crotch and the fabric was chafing up against the stubble of my legs, and it itched like crazy. I resisted the urge to hitch up my skirt and scratch. Instead, I fidgeted with Ellie’s ring on my finger and tried to forget about my ridiculous get-up. Brianna had handpicked the waitress tops, and it was like she had shopped for an eighty-year-old, choosing the most frumpy, old-fashioned thing she could find. The only thing worse would be a gaudy Christmas sweater with bells and reindeer, but this wasn’t much better. Puffy poet sleeves and bows never deserved to come back, I thought to myself.

  I stopped fidgeting and looked up at my handiwork. Whatever Brianna might say about me, she couldn’t complain about the party decor. I’d worked myself to the bone. There were strands of white twinkle lights everywhere‌—‌wound around the palm trees in Adam’s backyard, up the porch railings, draped in swags on the back porch, and scattered around the white beach tent that served as a bar and dance floor. Paper globes hung here and there, casting their soft colors onto everything, while additional foliage had been brought in from a florist in town to give the yard a tropical feel. If it weren’t for the chilly wind, I could imagine I was somewhere exotic instead of Tybee.

  I walked over to the bar, where Birdie was unpacking the last of the liquor. He looked handsome in a white starched tuxedo shirt and black pants, but I didn’t say the thought out loud. Even now, he was polite but only spoke to me when necessary, and it saddened me. This was our longest fight ever, and the thought of not having Birdie around for the holidays made me feel ill. I had to fix it and soon.

  Haylee waltzed up to the bar and set her tray down. She was dressed identically to me, but she had ripped the awful eighties bow off her shirt.

  “What happened to your shirt?” I had tried to tie mine in an interesting fashion, but it still looked like something a secretary would wear.

  “Corinne is a wizard with a seam ripper,” she said smugly.

  I made a noise in the back of my throat that came out like a strangled sigh. I was so tired, tired of everything right then.

  “Hey, don’t be like that,” said Haylee.

  Birdie snorted. “Yeah, don’t let Brianna or that loser get to you.”

  “Lay off,” said Haylee, giving him a hard stare.

  “What are you now? Her knight in shining armor?” quipped Birdie.

  “Here,” said Haylee, ignoring Birdie and passing me a drink off the bar. “Drink this.”

  “Hey! That’s–” Birdie started to complain.

  “Buh-bye,” said Haylee, as she waved him away. “Go find someone else to torment.”

  “Jesus, Haylee Jane.” I drank it down as Birdie crossed his arms and stood his ground. Haylee grabbed the bottle of vodka off the bar and refilled my glass, staring at me.

  “Down in one, girl.”

  I tentatively reached for the glass, unsure if this was such a good idea.

  “Trust me, you’re gonna need it to get through tonight.”

  She was right. I slipped the vodka back in one go, feeling the fire land in my belly and spread down my arms and legs. I welcomed the immediate tipsy feeling, but it still didn’t keep the tears back.

  “Shhh, it’s gonna be okay,” Haylee said. She stepped in and hugged me. “I know you’re tired and worn out, but it’s only a couple of hours. You can do it. I know you can.”

  Haylee handed me a cocktail napkin. I used it to wipe my eyes, then blow my nose. Birdie, either uncomfortable at being shut out of the conversation or just not caring anymore, walked away from the bar and helped a bunch of guys unload more boxes of glasses from the van in the driveway.

  “It’s fine,” I said, even
though I knew it wasn’t. “I’m just tired, like you said‌—‌that’s all. The trailer’s still a mess and, well, everything is just a bit of a mess right now.”

  “It’s gonna be fine,” said Haylee. “I’ll help you with all that. Let’s just get through this crackerfest and then we can focus on the holidays, right?”

  “Sure,” I said weakly.

  And so the evening progressed as I greeted guest after guest and took coats. Anybody who was anyone on the island had shown up and by nine, most of the guests were in place and happy hour was over. I ventured out into the mass of partygoers in order to help Haylee pick up dirty glasses before we were busy with the main course. I was too preoccupied with all the activity to hear Birdie approach until he tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Can we talk?” he asked. His eyes stared into mine, and something tiny caught in my throat, making it hard to swallow.

  “Sure.”

  “Not here. In private.”

  “Uh, okay.” A vague unease washed over me.

  “Come on.” He turned to walk down the beach.

  I didn’t want to, but I followed him past the tent, past a horde of loud drinkers, past the lights, past civilization, into the darkness. I was perplexed, but I wasn’t scared. After all, this was Birdie. My Birdie‌—‌or at least he used to be. There was nothing to harm me here.

  As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I focused on staying balanced in my dress shoes. I had sand in between my toes and under the arches of my feet, making it almost impossible to stay on top of the sand’s shifting surface. I was tempted to pull my shoes off, but didn’t.

  He stopped and we stood facing each other in the darkness, neither of us speaking.

  “I miss you,” I said finally.

  “Please don’t.” He took a step back from me, and it made my heart ache.

  “I thought we were always honest with each other,” I complained. “I’m trying to be honest here.”