The Stranger Next Door

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  The guy made a face. “Good choice.”

  Billy Jo wore blue jeans that hung low on her hips, a black V-neck, and her bulky purse. Mark gestured to the stool on the other side of him and took in Billy Jo as she sat.

  When two more women walked through the door, the guy called out, “Hey, I’ll be right there.” He turned to Mark. “Give me a few minutes to take care of them and I’ll be right back. Your arm should be good and numb then, and we can start.”

  He wanted to tell him to take his time, as Billy Jo was now sitting on the round stool on wheels, looking at him.

  “You go shopping?” he asked.

  Her expression said everything. “I browsed, and now I’m done. So how long did he say it will take?”

  He glanced over to his arm. His shirt was off, and he could feel the numbness now. “Apparently, I have to come back half a dozen more times.”

  She made a face and ran her hand over his arm. Damn, her touch felt good. He glanced back to the TV, the news, seeing a scene in front of a west Hollywood Hills mansion with police in the background.

  The reporter was saying, “Hollywood producer Mel Atwood has been found dead along with an unknown woman, but reports just coming in have confirmed that the body is that of Sunday Byrd, Atwood’s girlfriend. The two were reportedly found in the house by a cleaner, shot dead, and authorities are not ruling out a break-in, suggesting it’s likely they surprised a burglar.”

  Billy Jo was still touching him, and he thought she hissed, or maybe it was his head as he sat up from where he had been lounging in the chair, seeing the sketch of Sunday. It took him a second, as he stared at the news, the gate the reporter was standing in front of, and the police behind it, for him to know Ash had to have had a hand in this.

  Billy Jo held his arm, but the shock in her expression had nothing on what he felt. “So he found her. Do you think Tolly…?”

  Mark just shook his head, glancing over to the front desk, where the tattoo removal guy was still talking to the two pretty girls. He glanced back to Billy Jo and then lay back down. On the news, the byline was still running and neighbors were being interviewed.

  “I don’t know, Billy Jo. Seriously, she went right back to Hollywood. Do you think that was why she wanted to leave Ash, for him? I don’t know what the hell to think.”

  “Okay, buckle up,” the technician called out, heading back over. “You’re ready for round one. Let’s get this pretty face off.” He glanced over to Billy Jo. “Not your pretty face. Bad choice of words.”

  Mark reached for Billy Jo’s hand and said to the guy, “Well, come on. What are you waiting for? Get that tattoo off.”

  When he looked up to the TV again, the anchor was talking about another case, a traffic accident. For a moment, Mark wished Ash Byrd had never shown up on his island.

  Billy Jo linked her fingers with his and then stood up and kissed him. “You know what? I’m going to buy you a gift for lying there and doing this for me.”

  “What kind of gift?” he said to her, knowing the guy was listening.

  “Oh, the kind that’s short, black, and silky—and there might be some lace,” she said, then ran her hand down his leg and lifted it in a wave before she strode to the front door.

  “Wow, I bet you can’t wait to see that sexy number,” the guy said.

  Mark shot him a look. “Just take the tattoo off,” he said.

  He dragged his gaze back over to the TV, seeing the image of Sunday again beside producer Mel Atwood, a man in his fifties. All he could wonder was what the hell was wrong with that picture. It sickened him, but he remembered what Sunday had said, that the Hollywood elites hired Ash to handle problems, and every one of them had looked at her and wanted her.

  Things really did go on behind closed doors that no one knew about. When he got back to the island, his first order of business would be to make a point of finding out what secrets everyone who lived there was hiding.

  And Billy Jo? Well, he really was going to enjoy her gift, her smile, and the fact that he rather liked her next to him.

  He listened to the whir of the laser, the sound of the traffic. When they got home, he’d tell her how much he loved her.

  Bonus content about Ash Byrd and Tolly Shephard. Here is a short story I hope you enjoy, just click here to download or go here: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/tnfs0nlq6l

  * * *

  And don’t forget to leave a review of The Stranger at the Door

  Coming next in the Billy Jo McCabe Mystery

  She picked up the wrong file, and now everything is falling apart.

  * * *

  From New York Times & USA Today bestselling author Lorhainne Eckhart comes a new Billy Jo McCabe mystery set on a small island in the Pacific Northwest. When social worker Billy Jo McCabe accidentally picks up the wrong file, she discovers a shocking, twisted mystery plotted by a high-ranking social worker in the DCFS.

  * * *

  When Billy Jo McCabe accidentally picks up the wrong file, before she realizes her mistake, she discovers a secret no one was supposed to find.

  * * *

  She takes the file to the newly appointed chief of police, Mark Friessen, but he doesn’t believe her—that is, until they discover dozens more files and missing money from vulnerable at-risk children who have aged out of the system and are living on the streets.

  * * *

  As she digs into the files, the system, and the people involved, everything falls apart.

  * * *

  And what Mark and Billy Jo discover is a secret far more shocking than missing money.

  Click here to pre-order The Children

  Other Works Available

  She gave her daughter up. Now she wants her back.

  * * *

  What do you do when a woman shows up on your doorstep, suddenly wanting her daughter back? Never in a million years did Marcus and Charlotte O’Connell expect to be faced with this kind of dilemma, but when Reine Colbert is released from prison, she shows up at their house, demanding they return her daughter, Eva.

  * * *

  Worse is the fact that Sheriff Marcus never received a courtesy call from the prison or parole board to warn him that Reine was about to be released. As far as he and Charlotte were concerned, they had followed Reine’s wishes, adopting her daughter so she could serve her time, knowing Eva was loved and in a good family. But now she’s changed her mind, and she believes Marcus is somehow responsible for her lost years with her daughter.

  * * *

  Though Marcus and his siblings step in to talk it through with Reine, who has been given a raw deal, little Eva is the one caught in the middle of the tug of war.

  * * *

  Will the O’Connells be able to reason with a woman who has no reason to trust anyone? Find out in a novel about secrets, hurts, lies, and the true of meaning of family.

  Broken Promises - Chapter 1

  She was thirty-one years old, and she had a daughter, a tattoo she would never be able to remove, eighteen dollars and forty cents in her pocket, and a prison record that would keep her from ever having anything else. Reine Colbert wondered when she hadn’t felt this hollow ache that had become a part of her, of who she was, an anger that had only grown deeper, so much that it burned her with every breath she took.

  She stared at the brick homes, sidewalks, and grass lawns of picture-perfect suburbia, with flowers planted in front of porches that welcomed visitors, family, and friends with glasses of lemonade, laughter, and small talk.

  But that life wasn’t for someone like her. That life had been ripped from her. Reine had once had a husband, a daughter. She’d once felt joy. Now she felt only anger.

  It hurt more than anything to feel she was supposed to be thankful that she got to breathe the same air as people who had homes, lives, and freedom. Wasn’t that exactly what her parole officer had said after he finished grinding her into the ground as she sat in his dingy office, realizing he didn’t see her as human? He’d stared at
her file instead of her, making it clear she’d never matter. She’d better learn her place, keep her nose clean, take what was offered. And he didn’t want to hear any complaints or whining about anything, because rights were something she didn’t have.

  No drugs, no liquor, no weapons.

  And the last, which had nearly choked her, was no respect. That was something she wasn’t entitled to anymore. She’d been officially categorized as a person with no rights and no dignity, and she was terrified, as she stood on the concrete sidewalk, seeing weeds sprouting up between the cracks here and there, staring at a house, that what she was doing now could have her right back behind bars.

  It would take just one call from someone who mattered, even though that would be cruel. Then again, cruelty had become familiar to her, and it was a quality she saw in everyone now.

  Someone was watching her. This was that feeling prison had taught her, the one that had kept her alive and breathing. She waited a second before turning to see a woman with long dark hair across the street, staring.

  Reine pulled at her old hoodie, lifting the hood over her shoulder-length dark hair even though it was mildly warm out. She made herself look away, around and up the street to see what could be coming at her. It was a quiet morning, and cars were parked in front of most of the houses. The sheriff’s cruiser was in the driveway as the early sun topped the horizon.

  She reminded herself she couldn’t keep standing there, as someone would call the cops, and she’d be questioned, told she didn’t belong. Reine made herself take one step and then another, hoping whoever was watching her would let her be instead of hitting her with the knowledge that she didn’t belong there.

  She kept moving in sneakers that were so worn she could feel each pebble she stepped on, but the pain was welcome as she walked up the sidewalk toward the two-story craftsman. Her legs were shaking, and her stomach was hollow, and Reine was very aware of the voices she could hear from inside.

  The three front steps were painted gray. As she stepped up, she glanced down at the holes in her sneakers, and her heartbeat thudded long and loud in her ears. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She wondered whether she’d ever shake that feeling of being watched, having to look over her shoulder, never feeling a moment’s peace because of that deep ache in her soul, a reminder of everything she’d lost.

  She took another step up, and the creak of the wood ricocheted through her. Her inhale was long and loud in her ears, her heart pounding, her hands sweating. One more step, and she knew she shouldn’t be here, fearing the hand that would reach for her and pull her back, another living nightmare. Reine prayed for the day when that fear would truly leave her.

  She fisted her shaking hand, feeling the sweat under her arms, down her back. Her blue jeans hung on her hips. The inside door was closed, and she stared at the screen mesh and lifted her hand to ring the doorbell, but instead she knocked on the white painted frame.

  The sound was weak. Standing there, she wasn’t sure if anyone had heard her. She lifted her hand again when she heard voices and footsteps, and then the door opened. She’d never forget his face, his blue eyes, that all-cop look, even though she’d forgotten how tall he was, standing there in his sheriff’s uniform.

  For a moment, the silence hung thick in the air as she stared at the man who was responsible for everything she didn’t have.

  “Marcus, who’s at the door?” someone called out. It was her voice, Charlotte.

  Reine fisted her hands where they hung at her sides and stared through the screen that separated her from a man she felt only bitterness for. She took in the confusion that knit his brows, his hand on the door. He didn’t answer his wife.

  “Reine?”

  Was he happy or angry? She couldn’t tell from his deep voice. The screen was still closed, but then he pushed it open with a loud squeak. She heard the sounds of children and a voice she’d go to her grave knowing, because it was a part of her.

  Eva.

  “I don’t understand. What…? How?” Marcus gestured toward her, and she could hear the confusion as his gaze bore down on her. “What are you doing here?”

  She pulled her hood down. “Hello, Marcus,” she said, her heart still hammering as she took in the gun holstered on his duty belt. Once, she’d never have believed she could come to hate that uniform, but now she did because of what it had taken from her.

  He was still standing in the doorway, looking down at her. She knew she wouldn’t be invited in. What, exactly, had she expected?

  “Marcus, you didn’t answer. Who’s here…?” There she was, Charlotte, dressed for work in a brown deputy’s shirt, her long dark hair pulled up. Her eyes widened as she stood beside Marcus, staring down at her. Charlotte’s head just topped his shoulders, but they were both taller than her.

  She was still trembling inside, facing the gatekeepers to her Eva. More guards, even though she was no longer behind the walls of a prison.

  “Reine, what are you doing here?” Charlotte said. “I didn’t know you were out. What’s going on?”

  Not even a welcome or a smile. That was something she expected, and there it was, the change in Charlotte’s face, in her eyes. Gone was the caring, and the woman who’d taken her daughter was staring at her now in a way that told her she didn’t want her here.

  “I’m here to see my daughter,” Reine said.

  She didn’t miss the exchange between husband and wife as if her fate was still up for debate, as if someone else decided what she could and couldn’t do.

  “You’re out of prison?” Marcus said. “I don’t understand. When did this happen?”

  When had she become so aware of the tone of people’s voices? Marcus’s had an edge she hadn’t expected.

  “Yes, I’m out. I hope that’s not a problem for you.” She wondered if sarcasm dripped from her words. Maybe that was why she still hadn’t been invited in.

  Marcus stepped out of the house, forcing her to take a step back, something she was too familiar with. Then he took another and another, and she had to fight the urge to look back to see the steps she could fall down. He was right in front of her, his hands on his duty belt beside cuffs she hoped never to feel around her wrists again. But she refused to cower even though she was terrified of what he could do to her.

  The screen door hadn’t closed, and she knew Charlotte was still standing there, holding it open.

  “Marcus, the children…”

  Was that worry or fear in Charlotte’s voice? Reine couldn’t look at her because the sheriff was staring down at her with a hard expression, the only way people looked at her now.

  “Go inside and take Eva and Cameron upstairs,” he said without pulling his eyes from her.

  Reine wasn’t about to lower her gaze, either, even though looking a guard in the eye in prison would have been seen as challenging, threatening, with repercussions that ranged from having her privileges taken away to being beaten or tossed in isolation. Cruel was cruel, and that had been all she’d known for too long.

  Reine made herself take a breath and instinctively fisted her hands at her sides again.

  “Marcus, everything okay here? Jenny said there may be something wrong,” came a voice from behind her.

  She had to look away, down to the man looking up at her from the sidewalk in a park warden’s uniform. He was tall, too, and from the way he looked at her, she could feel this going sideways.

  “No, everything is fine, Ryan,” Marcus said. “This is Reine. She’s out of prison.” He sounded so matter of fact, but the way he talked about her, as if addressing the weather or the news, ached.

  From how the other man was looking at her now, she expected to be told to leave or maybe walked down the street by the two of them, out of the neighborhood, with a warning never to come back.

  “You have my daughter, Marcus,” she said. “I want to see Eva right now.”

  He lifted his gaze back to her sharply with an expression she didn’t like, shaking his
head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Reine. She’s happy now, and she wouldn’t understand. You just showing up here like this isn’t good for her. It’s confusing, and—”

  “She’s my daughter!” She thumped her chest with her fisted hand, cutting him off, and it felt so damn good to do it, because it was something she’d never have been allowed to do in prison.

  His gaze snapped to the sudden movement, and she reminded herself she was in front of a cop, standing right on his doorstep. She needed to be careful not to be construed as threatening or aggressive, even though the words she wanted to say were screaming through her head. The anger that radiated through her was clouding her reasoning.

  “No, Reine,” Marcus said. “She’s our daughter now. Charlotte and I adopted her. Did you forget it was your idea? Now you’re showing up here without calling, demanding to see her. What is this?”

  That was something else she’d become far too used to, being denied everything she loved. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her, and tears burned her eyes from the anger that was only swelling deeper, bigger, burning a hole right through her.

  “This is about my daughter, Marcus. Mine. I gave birth to her, and she was taken from me…”

  He lifted a hand, and for a moment she thought he would touch her, so she jerked her shoulder sharply away. He must have known, as he pulled his hand back. “I can see you’re angry and hurt, but I really don’t think right now is a good time,” he said. “We’ll talk, and maybe we can look at something down the road when you’re a little more settled.” His hand went to his duty belt again, and she felt the dismissal, knowing the other man was still standing there, watching her, maybe waiting for her to move too fast or do something he didn’t like.