Because I'm Watching

by Christina Dodd

  Kateri thought of several answers. Tell me one reason I should care. Sucks to be you. Instead she chose the neutral, “Sienna lied?”

  His dark, curly hair was disheveled. His shirt was buttoned crooked. His eyes were indignant. “Who else claimed to be pregnant to get me to marry her?”

  Not me, that’s for sure. “How did you find that out?”

  “After the party, she got sick and was throwing up so much I got worried she would get dehydrated and lose the baby. I wanted to take her to the hospital. Told her our baby’s health was more important than anything else. She got mad, said I didn’t love her, and finally threw it in my face that she wasn’t pregnant.”

  Kateri tried to decide which part of this story she wanted to address.…

  None of them.

  So she said, “It was a great party.”

  He viewed her as if she were nuts.

  Which she did not appreciate. “Luis, I don’t know what you want me to do with this information.”

  “Take me back!”

  Oh, really. She stalked toward him. “I never had you.”

  Eyes lit with purpose, he advanced. The guy was packing attitude.

  She reversed, hoping to keep this civil and hands-off.

  He backed her against the wall. He put his elbow by her head and leaned into her. He fixed her with his melting brown eyes. He fluttered his curly long dark lashes. He lowered his voice to a sexy growl. “We could fix that right now.”

  She slipped under his arm and tied her robe again, tighter and with a knot that was large, complicated, and very Coast Guard. “No, thank you.”

  “Kateri—”

  “Luis, let’s be clear.” She bit the words off. “Sienna may have lied, but you believed it was possible. Which means while you and I were dating, you were sleeping with Sienna.”

  “Once!”

  “Only once.” Sarcasm weighed her voice. “That makes it all better.”

  He spread his hands. “I drank. I was celebrating. You left me at the resort.”

  Her temper rose and her blood cooled. “Don’t try to blame this on me. You’re not a child. You’re responsible for your actions.”

  He thought. He answered, “I love you.”

  Ah. The words of a desperate man who had betrayed her and knew it. “Thank you. I’m honored. You’re a good man. But the fact is, I didn’t sleep with you because I wasn’t certain it was the right thing to do. I was right. I listened to my gut, and I was right.”

  “No. Hear me!” He flung himself at her. “We could do so much together. Be the perfect couple. You’ll be the sheriff of Virtue Falls. I’m the Coast Guard commander.”

  “There are two really good reasons to have sex.” The sarcasm was getting heavier, her irritation more acute. “Predictions are I’m going to lose the election. What happens if I don’t hold up my end of the deal?”

  “Sooner or later the Coast Guard will move me to my next assignment and it won’t matter what you do for a living. You’ll come with me.”

  She made a sound like a buzzer. “Wrong answer!”

  Luis got annoyed. “What’s the right answer?”

  “I don’t know what the right answer is—for you. For me, it’s to chug along on this particular track until—”

  From the bedroom, Stag called, “Honey, I used your razor on my chin. I don’t have much facial hair but I still probably ruined the blade—” He stepped into the living room while holding a towel around his waist. A hand towel. A small towel.

  Luis froze.

  Kateri sighed.

  Stag did an elaborate double take. Performance art at its finest. “Sorry! Sweetheart, I didn’t realize you had company. Hello, Luis, didn’t expect to see you here this morning. All well on the domestic front?”

  Luis came to life slowly, his fists clenching, his brow lowering, his eyes narrowing. He swiveled slowly toward Kateri. “You wouldn’t sleep with me.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. Gut instinct saved me again.”

  “You slept with him.”

  “Obviously,” Stag drawled.

  Luis glared at Stag, then turned his attention back to Kateri. “Sienna said you were faking it. She said you’d probably hired him to act as your date so you wouldn’t feel so self-conscious at our party.”

  As if he were ready to charge, Stag came up on the balls of his feet. “Kateri didn’t hire me. I caught her in a weak moment, recognized my advantage, and swept her off her feet.”

  “Down, boy,” Kateri said to him. Turning to Luis, she said, “Good news for you. Sienna doesn’t always get to be right.” She moved smoothly toward the door, took the knob again, and held it while she gestured toward the street.

  With every appearance of a betrayed lover, Luis stalked past her and out of her apartment. “My heart is broken.”

  “Dang,” she said. “Maybe you can take comfort in Sienna’s arms.” She slammed the door, leaned her forehead against it, and laughed in dismay and rueful amusement. “That was awkward.” She turned—and Stag was right there, a foot away and naked.

  At some point on his trip across the room, he’d dropped the towel.

  She still smiled, amused and aroused and relieved he had rescued her from a potentially explosive situation. “You are absolutely appalling. What were you thinking?”

  He stepped close, slid his arm around her waist, lifted her onto her toes, and pulled her against his body. “I was thinking that I’ve waited for years for you to grow up and way too long for the moment for us to be right, and I wasn’t letting your half-tempting lover lay a claim on you for any reason.” His chest heaved. His eyes burned. He slid his hands between her legs, lifted her, and pressed her against the door—and in one smooth, strong motion, he nudged his way inside her body and laid his claim.…

  Never once during the whole orgasmic experience did she worry that he would hurt her; not her artificial joints, not her fragile emotions, not her future in Virtue Falls. She knew she was being foolish … but Stag made her feel safe.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Less than two hours since a disillusioned Luis had stopped by and had left disillusioned by Kateri, too.

  Less than thirty-six hours until the start of Election Day.

  A few hours of quiet Sunday morning peace. Or so Kateri hoped.

  Right now, as she walked into the Oceanview Café, walking stick in hand, she knew Noah would say she should shake hands and kiss babies and campaign to win the election.

  She was willing. Last night with Stag had given her a confidence she hadn’t experienced before; Stag knew how to influence people, and in only a few hours he had taught her a lot. About campaigning … yes. He’d taught her a lot about campaigning. Afterward, he’d taught her a few other things, too, but no more than she’d taught him.

  She smiled at the memories.

  She started toward the back of the diner—and stopped. She looked around at the mostly empty tables. She stared unhappily at the spot where a computer nerd should sit. She intercepted Rainbow, who was headed toward the seniors’ table, coffeepot in hand. “Where is everybody? Hungover? Where’s Cordelia? I thought she always came in for Sunday breakfast.”

  Rainbow chuckled manically. “Didn’t you hear? Everyone who ate the herring salad at Luis and Sienna’s engagement party has food poisoning.”

  “My God!” Kateri covered her mouth in horror and shock.

  “Cordelia ate a lot of herring salad. She’s in the hospital.”

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  “She’ll be fine. Cordelia is strong as an ox.” Rainbow stepped around Kateri, filled Mr. Harcourt’s cup—he sat alone, reading his tablet—and came back to the counter. She poured a mugful and shoved it across to Kateri.

  Kateri scooted onto a stool. “The Ladies of Norway poisoned the party?”

  Rainbow smirked. “No. The Ladies of Norway didn’t prepare all the food. This morning, Mrs. Eriksen came in to make the announcement—Sienna read their time-honored recipe and though
t it sounded icky, so she insisted on making the herring salad all by herself. Sienna poisoned her own guests.”

  An unexpected chuckle caught Kateri by surprise.

  Rainbow stood with her hands on her hips. “Half the town’s sick and you’re laughing. You’re going straight to hell.”

  “I’m not laughing because people are sick. I’m laughing because Sienna…” Sienna the seductress. Sienna the liar. Sienna the earth goddess and chef worshipped by all … had spread food poisoning throughout the town. Kateri chuckled again. “You’re right. I’m going to hell.” She waved at Mr. Harcourt.

  He waved back and called, “Hi, Sheriff Kwinault. I guess you’re lucky enough to dislike herring salad, too?”

  “Can’t stand it.”

  He gave her a thumbs-up and went back to his reading.

  Kateri asked Rainbow, “Are the other seniors sick?”

  “Yep. Mr. Setzer is in the hospital, too. According to Mr. Harcourt, Mr. Caldwell’s too stubborn to go to the hospital. So he’s home tossing his cookies. Quiet morning at the ol’ Oceanview Café.” Rainbow leaned over the counter. “Now dish.”

  “About what?” As if Kateri didn’t know.

  “Last night, you left with Stag Denali.”

  Kateri sipped her coffee. “So?”

  “So did you get to see him running through the forest naked? So to speak?”

  Kateri did not smirk. She did not. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Apparently that wasn’t enigmatic enough, because Rainbow slapped Kateri’s shoulder. “You did! I worried you were celibate for so long you were going to dry up and blow away, and now you’re involved with Stag Denali. The way I hear it, he’s not named Stag for nothing!”

  “Could you say it a little louder?” Kateri glanced around.

  Mr. Harcourt was peering over his glasses at them.

  In a piercing whisper, Rainbow repeated, “Now you’re involved with Stag Denali!”

  “Yeah, that’s better. Don’t tell everybody, okay? I don’t know if he’s going to stick around.” Although from what he said, he’d had the hots for her for years. Which was flattering and weird at the same time, and not a topic of discussion. “I really need to see Cordelia. She was going to give me more texts she … found.”

  Rainbow stopped grinning. “What kind of texts?”

  “She thinks we didn’t rescue the right girl. Or there’s another girl out there.”

  Rainbow grew still and grim. “What is it with people? The ones who are only happy when they hurt someone?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t understand it. But I sure see enough of it.” Kateri thought about the Terrance boys, still in jail, thank God, and still threatening to break out and hurt her in ways that would, quote, “leave you more deformed than you already are.”

  “If that’s true about the girl, if there is another abused child … kudos to Cordelia. It’s a good thing to know.”

  “Yes, but I wish she could figure out who’s sending the texts. Not knowing makes this so frustrating.”

  Rainbow fetched a frosted doughnut out of the case, placed it on a plate, and slid it across to Kateri. “You might as well eat it. Today we don’t have enough customers to finish them up.”

  “If you’re going to put it that way…” Kateri took a bite.

  “You know who Cordelia is for you? You know how in the books the police detective always has a secret psychic who warns him of upcoming trouble, but the warning’s so vague he can’t do anything to stop it?”

  Kateri thought about it and nodded. “You’re right. That is so Cordelia.” Her phone rang. She looked at it, muttered, “This is never good,” and answered. “What’s up, Dr. Frownfelter?” She listened, stiffened in shock. “I don’t believe it.”

  “What is it?” Rainbow asked.

  “No, I really don’t believe that.”

  Rainbow leaned over the counter again. “What?”

  “Did you call the ambulance? Or the … morgue?”

  Rainbow gripped Kateri’s wrist. “Who’s dead?”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Kateri ended the call. “Dr. Frownfelter went to check on Mrs. Butenschoen; she’s missed some doctors’ appointments and that’s not like her. He knocked, no answer, got her key out from under the fake rock by the front door, went in, and discovered Mrs. Butenschoen’s body in her kitchen”—she met Rainbow’s incredulous gaze—“hanging from her light fixture.”

  Give me another week & she’ll have come back on her own. Or they’ll commit her.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Jacob sat in his broken recliner in the dark living room with aluminum foil over his windows, waiting for Friday, when he would put on his military uniform, go out to Brandon’s funeral, and present the eulogy for a man who had died too soon.

  Fitting that this would be his last act on this earth.

  Outside, sirens wailed, but he did not care.

  They came closer and closer. He did not care.

  They stopped on the street. He did not care. He did not wonder who had run the stop sign at the end of the block or if Madeline Hewitson had poisoned someone … or poisoned herself.

  But if he truly didn’t care, why was he standing and walking to the door? Why was he opening it and looking out into the morning sunlight?

  As always, the neighbors had gathered on his lawn. Web was there, too, although why he’d come by on a Sunday, Jacob did not know. But rather than the usual circus atmosphere brought on by disaster and flashing emergency lights, the crowd stood silent, their arms crossed over their bellies, their faces grim, and when they spoke, they spoke in whispers. They stared across the street at Mrs. Butenschoen’s house, where an ambulance waited, lights flashing, siren now silent.

  Jacob did not care about Mrs. Butenschoen.

  He didn’t care if she was ill.

  He didn’t care if she’d had an accident.

  He looked over the heads of the crowd toward Maddie’s house.

  Across the street, Mrs. Nyback and Maddie stood each in her own yard, yet close against the fence that divided them. Their body language was the same as that of the other neighbors: closed, distressed, uncertain. Mrs. Nyback clutched her dog tight in her arms. Spike responded to her desperate embrace with a display of teeth and aggression, wiggling madly and fighting Mrs. Nyback’s embrace.

  Nasty little dog.

  At Mrs. Butenschoen’s house, the front door opened.

  The neighbors shuffled forward, straining to see.

  The EMTs came out the front door and down the stairs. They carried a body bag on a stretcher.

  What the hell had happened?

  Dr. Frownfelter followed the stretcher. As always, he looked tired, but now he looked aggrieved and distressed, too. Sheriff Kwinault walked with him, and he was talking to her, shaking his head, gesturing, his body language rejecting … something. Mrs. Butenschoen’s death?

  How? Why? Maybe Jacob was paranoid—or possibly more paranoid—but this was one horror too many.

  He came to the edge of his porch, caught Mrs. Franklin’s eye, and gestured her over. “What happened?”

  In a faint voice, she said, “Mrs. Butenschoen killed herself.”

  What? Bullshit. “Mrs. Butenschoen—”

  “Committed suicide.”

  Now Jacob knew why Dr. Frownfelter was shaking his head. No way Mrs. Butenschoen would commit suicide. “What makes anyone think she took her own life?”

  “She hung herself on the light fixture in her kitchen. She wrote a note on her computer and left it open on the table. Rumor is she had cancer and that’s why…” But even as Mrs. Franklin spoke, she didn’t sound convinced.

  “When did this happen?”

  “She’s been hanging there for days. A couple of days, anyway. I didn’t notice she wasn’t around. I mean, I did, because she wasn’t complaining about my kids playing in the street. But I was relieved, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “What’s happening
here on this street is spooky. Everything about it is spooky.” She glared at the house next to his.

  Jacob’s gaze followed hers.

  Dayton Floren stood in his own yard, hands in his pockets, wearing a faint smile as, with Dr. Frownfelter and Sheriff Kwinault as honor guard, the EMTs loaded the body into the ambulance.

  “Floren posted bail,” Mrs. Franklin said. “He’s a proven arsonist. Now none of us is safe in our beds.”

  She sounded more than a little agitated. “I thought you were moving,” he said.

  “Floren reneged on the contract, too.”

  Jacob thought she considered that a greater crime than arson. On the other hand, in his kitchen the faint odor of smoke still lingered, so he held a grudge, too. He put all his strength of will into his glare, and in seconds Floren glanced his way.

  The real estate man jumped, ducked his head, and hurried into his house.

  Jacob’s attention returned to the scene across the street and, inevitably, to Maddie.

  She was looking at him, but as soon as their gazes met, she looked away, as if she were ashamed. Which she should be; for all the misery he had suffered, no one had ever tried to poison him before.

  She appeared to be in control of herself, no longer drugged and hyperactive. Yet she looked sad and weary, too, and he found his heartstrings unwillingly tugged. What was it with the woman that she could try to kill him one day and he felt sorry for her the next?

  She reached across to the dog in Mrs. Nyback’s arms and rubbed his head, and for a moment the dog leaned into her touch. Then Maddie yelped and pulled her fingers back.

  Spike had bitten her. Again. Didn’t the woman ever learn?

  Maddie disappeared into her house. She came back with a plastic canister, popped the top, and offered a treat to Spike.

  The little shit snatched the treat.

  With another yelp, Maddie pulled her hand back, examined her fingers, and wrapped them in her T-shirt, he supposed to stop the bleeding.

  Mrs. Nyback smiled apologetically and petted Spike’s head, oblivious to the fact that her darling boy was a monster.