The House Across The Street

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  “Then why the hell does this paperwork say there is one?” I demand, though I know none of us know the answer.

  “Tomorrow we’ll get a subpoena requesting the Texas Department of Insurance for some answers on these suspicious policies, supposedly not existing,” Rob says, then he swivels his head to look at Rachel. “Thank you. You have just given us the key to solving this whole ordeal. Once we find out who the beneficiaries are, we’ll have our killer, or killers, as the case may be.”

  “You did good,” I praise her. “You did really good.”

  “Thank you,” she says to me with a broad smile on her face. “Have you come to the pictures of the freezer yet?”

  “The freezer!” Rob and I both shriek at the same time.

  “Yes, the empty chest freezer in the garage. It must serve a purpose.”

  ****

  Rob and I spend the rest of the evening going over the paperwork and making notes. After comparing the “Client Info” list to the “Insurance” charts, one thing is very clear … the policies appearing to be legitimate show a corresponding client name, residence and a more detailed list of the type of insurance, expiration dates, and things of this nature. But on the questionable ones, the details are vague. And with respect to Arnold Wilson and Levi Crandall, each policy indicates that settlement has been completed. Obviously, we need to find out who the proceeds were made payable to.

  Rob and I agree that we no longer need to keep a 24-hour watch on the Foster house, or even Dawson’s house at this point. Instead, we need to concentrate our efforts on subpoenas from the insurance companies and search warrants for Dawson’s home. My plan is to stay with Rachel to make sure she is protected. If she missed a camera and Dawson realizes she was in his home, he could try and kill her. And I already know Richard might. Rob will come back in the morning for breakfast and together we will head to the precinct with this information.

  As soon as Rob has left, I turn my attention to Rachel. “Alone at last,” I say with a come-hither look on my face.

  “Are you walking me to my door?” she teases.

  “Are you inviting me inside?” I dare to ask.

  She blushes. “Maybe I will.” Her whispered voice comes out breathy, almost a dreamy tone.

  “Yes, you will,” I tell her with a confident grin on my face. I waste no time in ushering her down the hall. At her door, I spin her to me and press her against the wall. “Well, here we are again, at your doorstep.”

  “Our third date,” she stresses.

  “Fourth,” I counter. “I’m counting the comedy club.” I don’t give her time to argue. Instead I close my mouth down on her perfect lips. My hands snake around her waist, and her arms curl around my back. We are at war with our tongues, making our desires quite evident. When I press against her, I am already stiff as a board and fighting against my tightening jeans.

  “Oh Jackson,” she moans, her voice garbled against my chest.

  “Oh Rachel,” I say in return. My uncontrollable libido loudly informs me I cannot wait any longer. If she tells me goodnight and doesn’t invite me inside, I think I will explode. There must be an outlet … right now.

  I kiss her again, even harder this time. When we finally break for air, she coyly asks, “Would you like to come inside?”

  “Would I ever,” I respond, almost salivating.

  She laughs, her eyes locking on mine and then in two seconds flat, I have her down on her bed. “Rachel, I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone so much in my whole life.” And when she pulls me next to her, I think I have died and gone to Heaven.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Rachel

  Last night I had been so ready for Jackson. When I had launched myself into his arms, my chest had been bursting with overwhelming emotion. Our first time together was amazing, like a magical night of bliss.

  Now, awakening the next morning for the first time after Jackson had made incredible love to me, I found myself mesmerized to find him lying beside me. Remaining motionless so as not to awaken him, I watched his long, dark, curly lashes twitching and imagined he was in a dreaming world, including only me. Though we’d only known each other a short while, I’d fallen for his quirky personality. He was playful and fun, unlike Richard who was always professionally motivated … always only professionally motivated.

  Jackson didn’t mind driving an old clunker. Richard would’ve died if he’d even had to take a ride in it. Everything had always been a status symbol to Richard … fine clothes, expensive cars, healthy bank accounts. We had a top-dollar penthouse, a second place in Aspen and a third one in Tuscany. But it was all for nothing because Richard’s one mistake had broken down his empire and everything was crumbling at his feet. All because he wouldn’t admit fault and remove that damn sponge. But Richard was too egotistical to admit a mistake, one that in all fairness was the job of a surgical nurse. He could’ve walked away from the whole ordeal. He still planned to … if only I kept my mouth shut. But could I? The decision weighed heavily on me. My honest nature didn’t want to live with the secret. But Richard had worked extremely hard to achieve his otherwise good reputation. Could I live with being responsible for taking it away?

  As my barely awake eyes gazed at Jackson, I looked past his unruly tresses and rough, somewhat trimmed facial hair. What I saw was a man with a giant heart who didn’t care one iota about pomp and circumstance. I liked who he represented. In truth, he was more my style anyway. My parents had struggled. My childhood hadn’t been spoiled. My marriage to Richard, though embellished with a lavish lifestyle, hadn’t been fulfilling. The only thing I’d ever really wanted was a child, which I think he took away from me.

  Yes, I was ready for a change and Jackson seemed to hit the spot. I couldn’t wait to tell Brenna I was serious about the Geico man.

  “You’re awake,” he said, stirring around and trying to focus on me.

  “Not long,” I remarked.

  “Last night was incredible,” he said, his lips curling into a sexy smile.

  “Most definitely,” I agreed. “I’ll have to invite you over more often.”

  He chuckled, his deep voice resonating in his throat. “I’d love that.” He wrestled with the bedspread, managing to prop himself up on an elbow and with one finger he traced my lips. “I know you didn’t like my rough facial hair. It’ll be gone by the end of the day.”

  “No, Jackson,” I protested. “I’ll get used to it. Please don’t change who you are for me.”

  “This isn’t who I am. This was for my undercover job. Heck, a couple of years ago, I looked like a skinhead. Besides, I’ve applied for a detective position in the department. I’m going in for a second interview next week and I want to look my best. It was coming off anyway and so is all this hair.” He ran a hand through his long mop, a finger snagging on a tangle.

  “Well, if you were going to anyway…” I did like a well-groomed man, and I knew Brenna would be more open to mine and Jackson’s relationship.

  “We’d better get a move on. Rob will be here any minute now,” Jackson said after checking my bedside clock.

  Before I was out of the shower, Rob had arrived. By the time I had dressed, he and Jackson had cooked breakfast. “Wow,” I said upon entry, taking the plate Jackson was handing me.

  “You’ve cooked for us plenty,” Jackson said with a sweet grin. “It’s only fair to help with the chores.”

  “Wow,” I repeated, unable to remember a single time when Richard helped with the chores. He never even took out the trash, which, according to my mom, was a man’s job.

  As soon as breakfast was over, Jackson pulled me aside. “We’re taking this material down to the station. I want to work on getting a subpoena to the insurance company right away. We could probably get a search warrant right now, but it might be more prudent to wait for the insurance results.” He swallowed hard. “Will you be okay here by yourself?”

  “I’m going to run some tax returns out to a few clients. But if you’re not
here by the time I get back, I’ll go over to Mrs. Jenkins.” I paused. “Jackson, would you mind figuring out a way to seal off the attic access in her townhome … Mrs. Tuttle’s too?”

  “Consider it done,” he assured me. “I’ll pick up some supplies on the way back.”

  “I’ll miss you,” I said after he kissed me goodbye.

  “I’ll miss you too.” He kissed me again. “Be careful and text me every now and then to let me know you’re okay.”

  The moment he and Rob had left, an uneasy feeling engulfed me, like someone was watching me. Unable to bear the possible scrutiny, I grabbed up my files and headed for the car. My eyes cautiously scanned across the street to Mr. Dawson’s middle townhome unit. Was he watching me? Did he know I had been in his home?

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Richard

  Richard had been beside himself for the last few days … well, more specifically, the last few months. But things were getting worse and worse for him with each passing day. When he was last with Rachel, rage had consumed him, causing his uncontrollable emotions to take over. Before even realizing it, he had brutally and savagely choked his beautiful wife. Admittedly, prior to this, there had been a few slaps, only meant to knock some sense into her. But never had he left a mark on her and he had never meant to seriously harm her. Thank God he had noticed the fear of death in her eyes and had stopped short of killing her.

  Richard deeply loved Rachel. He had been enchanted with her from the first time he’d ever taken her on a date. Lancelot’s, he recalled, remembering the short, sparkling silver dress she had worn, hugging her curves in all the right places. Richard knew, even back then, with Rachel being years younger than him and possessing a natural beauty, she would look good on his arm for many years to come. He had, of course, been right.

  Richard was one of the lucky few blessed with a magnificent mind and steady hands. The combination had resulted in his being a highly sought-after heart surgeon. A career meaning everything to Richard and something he wouldn’t forego, no matter the costs.

  Rachel knew a sponge had been left in during a surgery and it had become infected, resulting in the patient dying. And she knew he had destroyed the x-ray. Everything would’ve been fine if the old codger’s wife hadn’t ordered an autopsy. But once she did, the beans began spilling out. Rachel had a heart of gold and a huge moral compass. She wasn’t likely to keep her mouth shut. If she opened it, he’d be done for. No more medical career, and the rest of his life would be spent from behind prison bars. He couldn’t let it happen. But how did he repair this awful situation he was in now?

  Richard was parked down the street from Rachel’s house, noting three vehicles there: a truck, a piece of crap, and Rachel’s BMW. He wondered if one of the vehicles belonged to the new man in her life or if they were both tax clients. It was her busy time of the year. He knew she was under a lot of stress right now. He laughed maniacally, imaging her stress couldn’t possibly compare to his.

  He sat and waited, contemplating what to do. He wanted to make sure she never uttered a word about what she knew, but he couldn’t very well barge into her house if others were inside. A good hour later, two guys strode out at the same time, each heading for a separate vehicle. According to his friend Damien, the hippy-looking man in the junk car fit the description of Rachel’s date at the comedy club. No, it couldn’t be him. Surely, he was only a client. Even Rachel wouldn’t stoop so low for a new man in her life.

  Richard waited until both vehicles left, glad his patience paid off because now Rachel was alone. Richard cranked his car and was just about to ease forward when Rachel came out with a stack of documents in her hands. She was, no doubt, on her way to get client signatures. Rachel paused before getting in her car and stared at the townhouse across the street. Richard wanted to stop her, but from the way Rachel was glaring at the middle unit, she saw someone watching her. He’d already noticed Mrs. Tuttle leaving earlier and hoped with that nosy bitch being gone, no one else would notice his visit.

  He decided to wait it out. Rachel would come home eventually. In the meantime, he pulled all the way forward and parked in front of Mrs. Jenkins’ house. He hopped out of his car, intending to use his key to see if he could still get inside the house.

  Crossing the street and sticking the key in the door, he twisted it one way and then the other. Nothing. The bitch had changed the locks. Richard wasn’t surprised. But he had hoped to hide his car in the alley and wait inside the house for Rachel’s return. The element of surprise was always useful. Unable to gain access would certainly make things much more difficult.

  “Can I help you?” he heard a male voice calling out to him.

  Startled, Richard looked up to see a man coming out of the middle unit of the three townhomes. So, someone had been watching Rachel’s departure. “I was checking to see if Rachel was home. She’s my wife,” Richard quickly explained, feeling like he’d been caught red-handed.

  “I saw you over there the other day,” the man said, approaching Richard.

  The day I strangled my wife. Shit. He had probably heard her scream too … just before his hands closed around her throat. “Yes, we’re going through a divorce. We’re working on a settlement.” Richard wasn’t sure why he volunteered any information but, at the same time, he wanted to know just how privy this man was to his earlier visit.

  “I guess that explains the shouting,” the man said moving closer. “I take it things aren’t going amicably.”

  Damn. He had heard too much. “It could be better,” Richard admitted, taking a few tentative steps away from the stranger who apparently was as nosy as old lady Tuttle.

  “My name is Jarrod Dawson,” the man said, sticking out his hand.

  “Dr. Richard Anderson,” Richard pompously introduced himself.

  “Rachel’s husband,” Jarrod repeated. “I could tell you some things about your wife to possibly help you in divorce court.”

  Richard didn’t know it, but Jarrod Dawson already knew who he was. And Jarrod also knew all about the lawsuit pending against Dr. Anderson. Once he suspected there were undercover cops across the street, Jarrod had researched Rachel and her esteemed doctor-husband. He knew a lot about them. And the other day when they were fighting, Jarrod had taken a walk around to the alley and sneaked into Rachel’s backyard. She really should put a lock on her back gate and keep her blinds closed. From his vantage point, he saw Richard strangling his wife. Yes, Jarrod knew the divorce wasn’t amicable. But he had a solution.

  “Like what?” Richard asked, taking the bait.

  “Not here,” Jarrod said, looking over his shoulder toward Mrs. Tuttle’s unit. “My neighbor is the biggest, nosiest old bat I’ve ever come across. Let’s go down the block to the Starbucks.”

  “Okay,” Richard agreed. He knew Mrs. Tuttle wasn’t home, but he hoped he could get some good ammunition on Rachel. He needed it, along with a miracle.

  Jarrod wanted to take his own car, so Richard traveled ahead and found them a table. Once they ordered a coffee, they seated themselves opposite each other.

  “What do you have?” Richard asked, blowing on his steaming hot coffee and inhaling the delicious aroma.

  “I sell insurance,” Jarrod said, evasively answering Richard’s question, hoping to size him up, although he already knew Richard was a desperate man. “I can make lives better, easier. I’m a full-service company,” Jarrod stressed, holding Richard’s gaze, and hoping the man wasn’t dense. Jarrod had never involved a third party before, but he really needed Rachel to be gone. Jarrod knew Rachel had two undercovers staying with her, meaning she most likely already knew too much. She needed to be eliminated before she discovered something that could be pinned on him. And if Richard wanted her gone too, then the whole world would be a better place.

  “I don’t think I follow,” Richard said with a shocked look.

  “Oh, but I think you do,” Jarrod countered, his eyes never leaving Richard’s. “I think you know exactly w
hat I’m saying.”

  “Do you mean, with certain insurance policies, certain people can collect in the very near future?” Richard posed.

  “Yes,” Jarrod replied. “But in your case, with your pending divorce and your pending lawsuit, it’ll look suspicious if certain people come into good fortune. Don’t you think?”

  “How do you know about my pending lawsuit?” Richard asked, leaning back in his seat to give Jarrod a scrutinizing look.

  “I did some research on all of my neighbors, including Rachel. I came across the medical malpractice suit.” Jarrod paused for a moment and watched Richard’s tense reaction. “I know about Elena, the nurse too. She’s a party to the lawsuit. It’s all public knowledge,” Jarrod pointed out. “Pity that such an oversight can cause such dreadful results to one’s stellar reputation. If only Rachel and Elena disappeared.” Jarrod hinted, remaining unblinking and watching for any hesitation on the part of Dr. Anderson. Jarrod wasn’t sure what ammunition Rachel had over Richard. But he knew two gag orders were in place, most likely because Richard didn’t want Rachel talking. Most likely a divorce would’ve already been approved by a judge, that is, unless Richard didn’t want to give up the spousal right not to be questioned.

  Richard fell back in his chair and looked at the table, wondering if it was possible for all his problems to simply “disappear.” It’d be nice if everything just went away. Without that nurse around to testify, and with Rachel permanently silenced, he could get on with his life. Richard raised his head and stared at Jarrod. “I don’t know you at all. What makes you think you can approach me with something this diabolical and I’ll go along with it? Besides, how am I to trust you?”

  Jarrod nodded, understanding of Richard’s concerns. “We’d have to trust each other. Believe me, I have a dog in this fight and want Rachel gone for my own reasons. She’s become a little too nosy lately. We’d be doing each other a favor.”