Watched Too Long: A Thriller (Val Ryker Series)

by Ann Voss Peterson

  The living room was equally fraught with danger. What if Sam got caught in the recliner? What if she slipped on the loose rug? What if she managed to climb on top of the bookshelf and topple it over, getting crushed by a very outdated and very heavy 1998 set of the Encyclopedia Britannica (minus volume 8—Menago through Ottowa—which Val had thrown away after smoke damage.)

  Val made sure the gun safe was locked, then made sure again, even though she always kept it locked. She went into the bedroom and put her vibrator on a top shelf in the closet—not that it was lethal, but it would be weird if Sam found it. She got online and bookmarked CPR for toddlers. That led to learning that choking was one of the most common causes of child death, so Val broke out the vacuum cleaner to ensure there wasn’t anything on the floor that could clog a small person’s throat.

  When she shut it off, she heard knocking. Val checked her watch. Had it been three hours already? She still hadn’t made sure all the matches and lighters were put away; Val had lived through one bad fire, she didn’t want to try to survive one with a toddler.

  “Val!”

  She and Jack exchanged a brief hug. Jack’s husband, Phin, held Sam on his hip. He offered Val a handshake, and Val couldn’t help but notice that he was in very good shape. A sign that he and Jack weren’t having sex because he was cheating? Val couldn’t possibly know, but her opinion of him sank all the same.

  “Sam, do you remember Val?” Jack asked.

  Sam buried her face in her father’s chest.

  “Stranger danger!” Sam yelled. “Stranger danger!”

  “It’s okay, Sam,” Phin said, setting his daughter on the ground. “She’s not a stranger. She’s a friend.”

  Sam cautiously turned from Phin, but one tiny hand clutched the leg of his jeans. Val crouched down to Sam’s level, another online bit of advice, and stretched out her hand. “Last time I saw you, you were only one.”

  “I’m two,” Sam said.

  “Your name is two?” Val smiled. “I thought it was Sam.”

  Sam stared at her. Her face was almost a perfect circle, and her blue eyes were wide. ”I’m Sam. And I’m two.”

  “I see. I’m Val, and I’m more than two. Nice to see you, Sam.”

  Sam let go of her father and shook Val’s hand, then tugged it a little, looking toward the barn. “Can I ride your horsey?”

  Val shot a panicked look at Jack. She hadn’t thought about the horses. Talk about dangerous. The barn alone was filled with sharp edges and hard surfaces and…

  “Maybe when Mommy and Daddy get back,” Phin said. “You can ask Val if you can pet the horse, but no riding until we’re around.”

  “Can I pet the horsey?” Sam asked.

  “Do all two year olds talk like this?” While Sam had some pronunciation issues, she was pretty easy to understand.

  Jack shook her head. “Naw. She’s early.”

  Behind Jack’s car, a moving truck pulled onto the front lawn. A large, much larger than expected, moving truck.

  David Lund, wearing a worn leather jacket and Lake Loyal Fire Department ball cap, bounded out of the cab, a big grin on his face. He turned it on Jack. “Great to see you again, Jack.”

  “You too, Lund. This is my husband, Phin.”

  Lund extended his hand and Phin shook it. A year or two older than Phin, Lund was equally fit, and Val watched their arms flex as they sized each other up.

  “A pleasure,” Lund said.

  “Thanks for watching my little girl.”

  “She’s in good hands.”

  Phin nodded.

  Good, they aren’t trying to play alpha, Val thought, exchanging glances with Jack.

  Lund knelt down to Sam’s level, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Hey, Sam, my name is David. Did you know there are bears out here?”

  Sam’s eyes got wide and she shook her head.

  “Just a second. I’ll show you.” He trotted back to the truck, reached into the cab, and pulled out the largest teddy bear Val had ever seen. It was practically Sam’s size and wore a red checked bow around its neck. “This bear is for you. What should its name be?”

  “Harry.”

  “Because he has so much hair?”

  “Because he looks like Dickhead.”

  Lund let out a guffaw. “Did she say Dickhead?”

  Jack shrugged. “That’s her name for Harry.” Harry McGlade was Jack’s partner in the detective agency where they both worked. “I may have used it a few times around the house, and it stuck. You know, the bear does sort of look like McGlade.”

  Val squinted. There was a certain resemblance. The bear immediately went from cute to slightly annoying.

  “So, do you have all the rules written down?” Val asked, having discovered on a babysitting blog that good parents made such lists.

  “Rules?”

  “You know. Food. Bedtime. Baths. Allergies. All the stuff I need to know.”

  Jack shrugged. “She’s highly flammable, so keep her away from open flames.”

  “Huh?”

  “And don’t give her any helium,” Phin said. “She might float away.”

  “No helium,” Lund was pretending to jot it down. “Check.”

  Val made a face. Ha ha. Everyone was in on the joke. It must be obvious she didn’t know a thing about little kids.

  Jack patted her shoulder. “Seriously, Val. Just ask Sam what she needs. It’s not like children are so fragile they’ll break from the smallest thing.”

  “I knew that,” Val said, thinking of her mother’s shattered Hummel collection.

  “Do you guys want to come in for coffee?” Lund asked.

  “Sure. Come in,” Val said, eyeing the moving van and experiencing a sudden urge to avoid the inevitable. “I’ll throw on a pot. Shouldn’t take long.”

  “We’ve got to get going. Got a lot of hours ahead of us.”

  “Whereabouts you going?” Lund asked.

  “Spoonward. Near the Minnesota border.”

  “Way up in the woods. Beautiful country. But be careful. Hunting season just started. A lot of jackasses out there shooting anything that looks like a deer. And after a few beers, everything looks like a deer.” Lund paused. “You hear that?”

  There was indeed rifle fire, less than a few miles away.

  “That means no antler hat, young lady,” Phin said, giving Sam a tickle. “Promise me.”

  “I promise, Daddy. No taddle hat.”

  Phin gave her a hug and told her he loved her. “Bye, sweetie. Be good for Val and David.”

  “I will. Love you, daddy.”

  “Val,” Phin nodded at her. “Lund.” They shook hands again. Then he walked back to the car.

  Val looked at Jack, saw some anxiety there.

  “She’ll be fine,” Val said.

  “I know. That’s not who I’m worried about.” Jack glanced back at Phin.

  “That’ll work out,” Val said.

  Lund apparently picked up on their need for private time, and he scooped up Sam and Sam’s little suitcase. “How about we go inside and I show you our house?”

  Val winced at the our house comment.

  “You having doubts, too?” Jack asked when they were alone.

  “Maybe there are always doubts.”

  “Maybe. That would kinda suck.”

  Val laughed. “Yeah, it would. Go work your stuff out, Jack. You’ll do the right thing.”

  “So will you. And thanks for the favor.”

  “My pleasure. God knows you’ve always been there for me.”

  “I don’t know what cell reception will be like up there, but I’ll get into town and call every day. Either we’ll pick her up on Wednesday,” Jack exhaled. “Or I’ll pick her up on Wednesday.”

  The women embraced, Jack yelled I love you and waved goodbye to Sam in the kitchen, , then Val watched her friend walk off, disappearing behind Lund’s enormous truck.

  Seriously, Val didn’t even know he owned that much stuff.<
br />
  Was some of it his wife’s? Val didn’t know how she felt about that. Lund was a widower and had issues where his wife was concerned. Many issues. Most arising from feelings of guilt that he’d failed to save her. Had he filled the truck with things that had belonged to her?

  Val pushed those thoughts away. At one time, she’d talked to Lund ad nauseam about his wife, Kelly Ann, Back when she and Lund had first met. Back when he was a suspect in Kelly’s murder. The last thing Val wanted was to revisit those days.

  If the truck was filled with Kelly’s things, Val could deal with it. Couldn’t she?

  Maybe Lund could store them in the barn. Val was pretty sure he’d be okay with that.

  Pushing those thoughts from her mind and plastering a smile on her face, Val found Lund and Sam in Grace’s room, putting a little purple sweatshirt on the bear.

  “Look at that,” Lund said. “It fits perfectly.”

  “Fits perlecky,” Sam repeated. “He wants a hat.”

  Lund set his on the bear’s head. It sloped to the side, covering one eye.

  “No,” Sam said. “Your head’s too big.”

  Lund chuckled. “I’ve heard that before.”

  As luck would have it, Grace hadn’t taken her winter clothes to school yet. Val located two stocking caps that fit the bear perfectly. Since the Packer colors clashed with the bear’s bow, Sam opted for the red and white of the Badgers.

  “He’s a handsome bear,” Lund said. “Now let’s get at that truck.”

  Val checked her watch. “Are you hungry, Sam? I bet you’re hungry.”

  Lund started for the door. “How about we bring in a few boxes then take a break to eat?”

  “It’s important that kids eat on a schedule.”

  “Jack and Phin didn’t say anything about a schedule.”

  “Just because they didn’t say anything to you about a schedule doesn’t mean there’s no schedule.” Didn’t the babysitting blog she’d read mention a strict schedule? Val was sure it had.

  “Val…”

  “You said you were going to pick up some kid food, right?”

  “I did.”

  “And you have movies?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it’s settled. We’ll eat and then watch a movie. How does that sound, Sam?”

  “I want to see horsey.”

  “And we have to see horsies,” Val said. Jack had said kids weren’t fragile. Surely she wouldn’t get hurt petting Grace’s mare. Banshee was as quiet as horses got. “We’d better get going. We have so much to do, and it will be bedtime before you know it.”

  They went downstairs, Val helped Sam back into her little coat, and they went outside.

  Lund followed them out. “I’ll get the food and movies from the truck.”

  “Yeah, good.”

  When Val opened the barn door, all hell broke loose. All hell in the form of nickers and whinnies and hooves clacking against stall walls.

  “They mad,” Sam said, her eyes impossibly wide.

  “Nope. They’re just hungry.”

  “Can I feed horsies?”

  Visions of tiny fingers being chomped off by sharp teeth careened through Val’s mind. She glanced behind her, wishing Lund had come with them. “Ahh, I’m not sure if that’s—”

  “Please?”

  “We’ll see.”

  Val smiled. We’ll see was something she remembered from her own youth. When Mom hadn’t wanted to say no, she’d say we’ll see. It had always worked with Val and her little sister, Melissa.

  “We’ll see when?” Sam asked.

  Damn. Smart kid.

  “Um…”

  “Now?”

  Those big eyes. That bright smile. Why not? What could possibly go wrong? “Okay.”

  “Goody.” The little girl gave a few short hops.

  Val eyed the stalls. Max could get a little demanding and bitey until he’d had his grain. Bo was already busy alternating pawing and begging, throwing in the occasional thump of hoof against the wall. But Grace’s mare Banshee was a sweetheart. There was nothing to fear with her.

  Val cut the twine off a bale and peeled off a couple of flakes. Taking a handful of alfalfa from one, she gave it to Sam. “Hold onto it at the end, and when the horsey puts her head out, let go. Okay?”

  The girl nodded.

  Val picked Sam up and carried her to Banshee’s stall. Sam held out the hay. Banshee opened her mouth and reached for it with grasping lips.

  Sam squealed, her whole body shuddering.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Val jolted away from the stall and clamped the child to her shoulder. “What happened, honey? Are you hurt?”

  The little girl’s entire body quaked.

  What had Val done? She never should have let Sam feed a horse. Not even Banshee. And now…

  She set the little girl on the floor. Kneeling down, she looked for damage.

  And found none.

  Sam wasn’t hurt. Not even a little. In fact, she wasn’t even upset.

  She was laughing. “Again! Again!”

  And so she did. Val filled the three grain buckets to quiet the horses, then Sam tossed hay into each stall, handful by handful.

  By the time they locked up the barn and headed back to the house, darkness had fallen, and Val was starving. She eyed the truck, still sitting in front of the house, and felt embarrassingly relieved. They really wouldn’t have time to unload it tonight. By the time they ate, they would be lucky to squeeze in a kids’ movie before Sam’s bedtime.

  The moving in would have to wait until tomorrow. And even then, with a little girl to keep them busy, who knew how they’d find the time?

  Holding Sam’s hand, Val led her up the steps and opened the kitchen door. The warm, comfort-food scent of macaroni and cheese wafted out into the night. And when Val stepped inside, she let out a strangled yelp.

  Boxes.

  Piles of boxes. Filling her living room, cluttering her dinette, even jamming the corners of her kitchen. And Lund stood in the middle of it all, an apron around his waist, holding two glasses of milk. “Just in time! Dinner’s ready. And the truck is empty, too. How about that?”

  “How about that?” Val said, her teeth clenched behind her smile.

  Sha Nay Nay

  They’d jacked the bag of ice from outside a gas station, in one of those honor system coolers where you were supposed to pay when you took it.

  They didn’t pay. That’s how you roll when you’re a gangsta.

  Sha Nay Nay held some cubes to his shiner. Bön Dawg was pinching closed his bloody nose. Jet Row was trying, unsuccessfully, to light a small pile of ice on fire.

  “Man, that old lady kicked yo ass,” Sha Nay Nay said to Hackqueem.

  “Shut up, fool.”

  Hackqueem’s face had puffed up to the size of a parade float, thanks to half a can of pepper spray.

  “And you be begging, ‘I’m sorry, old lady! Didn’t mean nothing! Please stop spraying me!”’

  Hackqueem pulled out his 9mm and pointed it. He was nowhere near Sha Nay Nay because he couldn’t see shit out of his swollen-ass eyes. “I said shut up! Y’all didn’t do no better. Old guy messed you up.”

  “He knew some wu tang kung fu or some shit,” Bön Dawg said. “Maybe he was a Shaolin monk.”

  “They were crackers,” Hackqueem said.

  “Crackers can go to China, study Shaolin.”

  “Hey, why we gotta get all racist and shit?” Jet Row said.

  “Cracker ain’t racist. It’s just the color of your skin. Like a Saltine. No offense, homey.”

  “So what if I call you hamburger, cuz you’re the color of a quarter pounder? Or what if I called Sha Nay Nay a beaner cuz he’s Mexican and has skin the color of refried beans?”

  “I’m Bolvian,” Sha Nay Nay said. “My real name is Walter.”

  “Why your parents call you Sha Nay Nay?”

  “I dunno. Some Martin Lawrence shit.”

  “I still say
those crackers—I mean whities—trained in kung fu.”

  “Whities don’t know kung fu.”

  “Van Damme does.”

  “He’s not a whitey. He’s one of those Frenchies.”

  “My moms is half French,” Bön Dawg said. “I thought we were cooling it with the racist BS. We all the same color. We C-Notes. We fight proud an’ bleed red. That’s what matters.”

  “You’re right. Sorry, my man.”

  “Plus,” Bön Dawg said, “everyone knows whitey don’t know kung fu.”

  “Chuck Norris is a whitey who knows kung fu. And Chuck be like eighty years old.”

  “Maybe that old guy was Chuck Norris,” said Bön Dawg.

  “Man, Chuck Norris hit you so hard, yo mama feel it.”

  “Well, yo mama so skinny she got to wear snow shoes or she’ll fall in the sidewalk cracks.”

  “Yo mama so stupid she thought the civil war was won by Col. Sanders.”

  “Yo mama so fat she got to grease her hips to fit in the horizon.”

  “Not cool,” Sha Nay Nay said. “You know my mama got the diabetes.”

  “Yo, sorry man. Forgot.”

  “Man, you need to check yourself. Diabetes is the silent killer.”

  “I thought hypertension was the silent killer. Saw that shit on TV.”

  “She got that, too. Stop ragging on my fat sick mama.”

  “Yo, man, heard your mama so sick the doctor came over,” Bön Dawg said. “And the bitch ate him.”

  “Everyone shut it!” Hackqueem said. “No more yo mama jokes. Sha Nay Nay, how far to Lake Loyal?”

  “Do I look like a map?”

  “Dumb ass, look at your map.”

  “Oh.” Sha Nay Nay tapped his cell phone. “Forty miles.”

  “We could hitchhike,” Bön Dawg said. “But ain’t nobody gonna pick up Puff Daddy here.”

  Everyone except for Hackqueem gave each other high fives.

  “So what do we do?” Jet Row asked.