Covet thy Neighbor

by Denise Carbo

  Denise Carbo

  Covet thy Neighbor

  Copyright © 2021 by Denise Carbo

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  First edition

  ISBN: 9781734872927

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  Covet thy Neighbor is dedicated to my mom. Thank you for passing down your love of reading to me.

  Contents

  Acknowledgement

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Denise Carbo

  Acknowledgement

  Thank you to N.N. Light Editing Services for their copyediting. They’re always a pleasure to work with.

  Chapter 1

  A crash echoes across the yard from my neighbor’s house. I startle, spilling ice coffee on my hand and shorts. Crap, that’s going to stain. I place my cup on the patio table and stand, shoving the chair back. Two steps across my deck, I stop, chew on my bottom lip, and shift my weight from side to side.

  The last time I set foot on his property he grunted, snatched the plate of welcome to the neighborhood cookies out of my hands, and closed the door in my face. Not an experience I care to repeat.

  What if he’s hurt? If I do nothing, and he’s injured, what kind of person does that make me?

  Damn it!

  Standing around debating the issue wastes precious time if he’s bleeding out or something. On TV, the ambulance always makes it to the hospital at the last possible minute before death or permanent disability occurs, but that’s just drama, right?

  I jog down my deck steps and across my yard into his. The line of waist high holly bushes separating our properties snag at my clothes and scrape against my skin.

  Should I knock on the front door or go to the back? The crash came from his backyard. He’s probably fine and simply dropped something, or maybe thrown it in a fit of rage.

  Rolling my eyes, I veer towards the back of the gray colonial. Time is of the essence.

  I reach the blue stone patio and jerk to a stop. A ladder is on its side and my neighbor is flat on his back.

  I gasp and sprint around the low wall edging the patio.

  Crap! Is he dead? Did I waste precious minutes debating when I could have saved him?

  His eyes are open and staring at the sky. Is he breathing?

  I reach for my phone in my back pocket as I step onto the stones. His blond head swivels in my direction and his dark gaze locks on me. I stumble to a stop a few feet away.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  As charming as ever, I see. I point towards my house. “Your neighbor. I heard a crash.”

  He springs to his feet in a single flow of movement.

  Impressive ab strength to accomplish that feat. My gaze drifts over his tall, rangy build. Yeah, there are serious muscles flexing under those jeans and T-shirt. They all appear to be in fine working order. No damage done. He isn’t in need of my assistance. I shove my phone back into my pocket.

  “Are you in the habit of barging onto private property?”

  He braces his fists on his hips and scowls.

  For real? Next time I hear a crash over here, I’ll turn on the music and pour a glass or two of wine.

  I huff out a breath and scowl right back. “No, like I said, I heard a crash and wanted to make sure no one was hurt.”

  “As you can see, I’m not in need of a Florence Nightingale.”

  I glance away. Okay, after our first encounter I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone has a bad day, but this guy is a jerk.

  Through the open patio door, I spot a gun, some type of rope, and an assortment of knives and sharp objects strewn across a table.

  I snap my gaze back to his and swallow hard. “Yup, I can see that.” I back up several steps. “I won’t bother you again.”

  Grabbing my phone out of my pocket in case he decides to commit violence against me, I pivot and stride across his lawn as fast as I can, short of breaking into a run. The urge to glance back over my shoulder to see if he is watching me crawls up my neck, but I stare at the solace of my little blue cape.

  Once I reach my back deck, I dart inside and lock the door behind me. I grip the doorknob in my fist as I sag against the door.

  Okay, not going to panic, I’m sure there are many reasons for him to have an assortment of weapons on his kitchen table.

  Just because I can’t think of a single reasonable, nonviolent one, doesn’t mean I should jump to any conclusions.

  Thank God the boys are back at school. I might feel the need to bundle them close, pack up our stuff, and take off for parts unknown.

  Imagination in overdrive, Olivia! Dial it back a notch or two.

  I wipe the dots of perspiration off my nose with the back of my hand. Not sure if it was from the run, the heat, or the fear, but my clothes are sticking to my skin. One more summer where central air conditioning isn’t in the budget. Fans and window units will have to suffice. Besides, it’s already September and the heat should give way to cooler temperatures soon.

  I push off from the door and walk around the corner to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face and neck and then wipe it off with a towel. I check the time on my phone, ten o’clock. My shift at the bakery starts soon.

  Upstairs, I peek out my bedroom window at the gray colonial while slipping into a sleeveless pink sundress. My disagreeable neighbor is nowhere in sight. I walk back into the bathroom and comb my hair back into a ponytail, put on a few swipes of mascara to darken my pale lashes and rub a tinted lip balm onto my lips.

  From the bathroom window I can see more of his backyard, but there’s no sign of him. He probably went inside. I check the windows of his house. Nothing stirs. What if he’s looking out one of his windows at my house like I’m doing to him? I jump back and shuffle backwards out of the room into the hallway.

  If I couldn’t see into his windows, then he can’t possibly see into my windows, can he? Not without a pair of binoculars.

  Great, now the image of him staring into a pair of binoculars at my house is stuck in my head. At least it’s better than him holding one or more of those weapons.

 
; Or worse, chasing me with those weapons.

  Chapter 2

  “My neighbor is a serial killer.”

  “Umm…is that fact or supposition?” Lucinda’s blonde eyebrows arch halfway up her forehead as she leans against the marble counter nibbling on a piece of muffin.

  The aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies wafts across the kitchen after Franny opens the ovens. She puts the trays of cookies on the rolling rack in front of the ovens and props her hands on her hips. “You didn’t go back there without me, did you? I told you I would go.”

  I shake my head and lift myself onto the counter next to the sink. “No—well, not intentionally. I was sitting on my back deck this morning enjoying my second cup of coffee while contemplating my life and what the hell I want to do with it when I heard a crash next door. So, of course, I went over to ensure no one was dying or anything.”

  “You went over there thinking you lived next door to a serial killer? Why didn’t you call the police?” Lucinda drops the rest of her muffin into the garbage and brushes the crumbs off her fingers. “Have you called the police?” She glances at Franny. “She’s not serious, is she?”

  Franny holds up a finger to her sister. “Hold on, Luce. Olivia, what happened?”

  “My neighbor was on his patio, lying on his back, just staring at the sky. There was a ladder on its side near him. To be honest, for a second, I thought he might be dead. Then he jumped up and yelled at me for trespassing. I was ready to give him hell right back, but when I noticed the large assortment of weapons littering his kitchen table, I left.”

  Franny frowns and glances at her sister. “This guy moved in next door to Olivia and was rude when she welcomed him to the neighborhood. She did a search for him on the internet and came up with nothing. She has her twin boys to worry about, so she’s cautious. I told her I would go with her next time because there’s plenty of reasons the guy might be unfriendly, but obviously her instincts were right in the first place. There’s something fishy going on.”

  “I know I’m paranoid, but being a mother makes me worry about all sorts of things. So, when someone new moves into the neighborhood or comes into their lives, I do a quick search online and not only the predator lists, but a general hunt to make sure there are no red flags. Luke Hollister has no online presence whatsoever. No social media, nothing. That’s weird, right? Now, coupled with his behavior and the weapon stash—I’m not crazy to worry, am I?”

  Lucinda shakes her head. “Not at all, I can only imagine what you have to worry over as a parent. And, although there is nothing criminal about being rude or unfriendly, I admit the multitude of weapons is questionable.” She raises her hand. “However, he could simply be a collector. Perhaps we shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.”

  “Spoken like the lawyer you are.” Franny smirks.

  “A collector of weapons? I admit I didn’t think of that. My mind went straight to murderous intent.” I swing my feet and stare at the black and white squares of tile on the floor. All right, my paranoia for my kids’ safety might be getting out of control.

  “I’m simply throwing out other options. My firm in Connecticut had a private investigator on retainer. Would you like me to call him and ask for a referral for someone here in New Hampshire? Or we could ask our father to check with his former firm and see if they recommend anyone in the area.”

  “You think Granite Cove is big enough to have a private investigator?” Franny leans on the counter with folded arms. “I’d like to see Mother’s face when you ask Dad for the name of a private investigator though.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “Thanks guys, but hiring an investigator isn’t exactly in my budget.” I cross my ankles and sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to keep a close eye out and make sure my two devils don’t go wandering out of our yard.”

  “Well, don’t go back over there, no matter what you hear.”

  I nod at Franny. “I have no intention of setting foot on his property again. Maybe it’s time I replaced the fence between our properties. There used to be a split rail fence, but it rotted in places so the former owner tore the whole thing out before listing it for sale. I could put in a tall solid fence with barbed wire at the top.”

  “That would certainly send a message.” Franny grins.

  The bell on the front door jingles signaling a customer arrived. “Hold that thought.” I jump off the counter and walk to the front of the bakery and smile. “Welcome to The Sweet Spot, what can I get for you today?”

  The older couple smile and look back down at the glass display cases filled with goodies. I don’t recognize them as frequent customers. They’re probably vacationers. Not all the summer people have left for the season.

  They choose an assortment of pastries. I box them up and cash them out. “Have a wonderful day.”

  I wave them off and head back into the kitchen, glancing at the clock as I enter. The slow hour between the lunch rush and the pre-closing surge of customers allows us to catch our breaths. The eleven o’clock to five o’clock hours I work for Franny allows me to get the kids on the bus in the morning and be home to cook them dinner every day. I’m thankful for the income, but shouldn’t I be striving for more?

  I’m twenty-eight years old and the mother of twin ten-year-old boys. I should have a life plan in place—one more ambitious than staying sane while keeping a roof over our heads and my kids healthy.

  Lucinda is still leaning against the counter watching Franny flit from one of the ovens along the wall and back to the rolling racks as she puts the trays of sweets on to cool.

  Franny glances up. “Everything good?”

  “Yup, just a couple buying a box of pastries.”

  “How about Luce and I come over and spy on your neighbor under the guise of a girl’s night?”

  “Ooh, I love that idea!” Lucinda claps her hands together. “I could use a girl’s night.”

  Franny chuckles. “Mother driving you crazy?”

  “Let’s just say I’m so glad you’re letting me move into the apartment upstairs once you move in with Mitch.”

  “You’re moving in with Mitch?”

  Franny smiles and nods. “I was going to tell you, but then got sidetracked by your neighbor story. I’m over at his house so much anyway, it just makes sense to move in now. Originally, I’d planned on waiting until after the wedding. You know, be traditional and all that.” She shrugs. “But it just seems silly to wait.”

  “That’s wonderful!” I walk around the counter and give her a hug. “How are the wedding plans going?”

  Lucinda snorts. “Mother is in a tizzy. I’m glad it’s taken some of the pressure off me. At least she’s stopped her matchmaking efforts for now. Although she can’t very well continue since Franny here snatched up Mitch.”

  “Ha! She accused me and Luce of setting up an elaborate con to trick her when Mitch and I announced our engagement! It took meeting his parents to finally convince her.”

  “It sounds like you and your mother are getting along better.”

  “We have a hesitant truce. Planning the wedding keeps her focused and when she gets out of hand, I threaten to elope.”

  I laugh. “The house must be coming along if you’re ready to move in.”

  Franny’s eyes fill with delight. “Oh yes, you have to see it! There’s still plenty of construction going on, but Mitch had them focus on certain areas for his parents’ visit and now they’re concentrating on the kitchen. It’ll be done next week! I can’t wait. It’s my dream kitchen. You should come over when they’re done. I’ll cook for you in my new kitchen.”

  “I’d love that. I can’t wait to see it.” The bell rings again and I turn to the front. “How about tomorrow night for girl’s night?”

  Lucinda nods, but Franny winces. “Can we make Saturday night instead? Mitch has a hike and picnic dinner planned tomorrow.”

  “You’ve agreed to another hike?”

  “Yes, well, apparent
ly I’ll do just about anything for that man.”

  “Saturday works great, actually. Ryan has the boys that night. So we’ll have the place to ourselves.” Chuckling, I walk out front to wait on the customers. More enter while I’m helping the first set. Looks like the afternoon rush is starting early today.

  A steady stream of customers keeps me busy the rest of the afternoon until closing.

  After helping Franny clean up, we exit together out the back door. Boat motors idle at the dock behind the ski shop next door. A jet ski roars across the mouth of the cove. The wake left in its path sends waves lapping at the rocks edging the property.

  “See you tomorrow.” Franny heads up the stairs to her apartment.

  I wave and walk down the alleyway and up the street to my car parked up the block. Fried food scents the warm air from Billings Creamery. My stomach growls in response.

  Franny used to be still working hard in the bakery when I left, but now she often leaves when I do. I guess being in love makes all the difference. She’s blossomed since falling in love with Mitch. She glows when he’s around or even just when talking about him.

  How does it feel to love someone so much? Even when Ryan and I were together, we weren’t the bubbly, gushing, lovey dovey couple. I guess getting pregnant right away, dropping out of college, and getting married nixed any chance of us being carefree and in love.

  Chapter 3

  “Backpacks all packed?”

  “Yup!” Timmy and Tommy both call out as they race upstairs after breakfast.

  I walk over to the bottom of the stairs. “Homework done?”

  “No homework this weekend.” Timmy peeks from the top of the stairs. He disappears back into their bedroom on the right.

  Sighing, I collect discarded shoes and hats and put them on the hooks and shelves by the front door. I glance out the living room window for Ryan. He was due to pick the boys up ten minutes ago.

  No sign of him, so I walk into the kitchen. They left their plates on the table. I debate a moment whether to call them back down to put the dishes in the dishwasher, as they’re supposed to do, or let it slide this one time.