Watched

by Louise River

  Watched

  Book 1 of the Watched Trilogy

  Louise River

  Contents

  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

  About the Author

  Watched by Louise River

  Copyright © 2018 Louise River All rights reserved.

  All people, places, and organizations are works of fiction from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, people, places, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  Ending her morning run, Parker Lewis passes by the bright blue slide she remembers her father catching her on as a child in the park across the street from her house. She slows down as she starts to recall the many memories she has with her family at this park. The image of her father in suspenders and a bow tie catching of her at the bottom of the slide after work over and over until she was tired pops into her mind, and she smiles realizing he must have been exhausted after a full days work. He always did anything to make her happy.

  Her long, curly hair is pulled into a ponytail, and she can feel it swish across her yellow razorback tank top as she picks up speed again. Rounding the corner of the curved sidewalk, she slows her pace as she reaches her yellow front door. Her house is a cozy two-story house with light gray siding and a black roof. It was built in the eighties, and her mother loves it’s charm.

  Entering her house, she kicks off her shows and starts to stretch out her muscles while thinking about how much of her home, and life at home in general she’s going to miss when she leaves for college in a few months. Everything will be different from her daily routine, and she feels a slight panic in her chest at the thought of this change. She’s never been the best at dealing with change.

  “Parker, is that you?” Anne Lewis calls out from the kitchen.

  “Nope, I’m a burglar about to rob this joint clean,” Parker jokes.

  “Well, as long as you don’t hurt any of us, take what you want.”

  Parker laughs as she walks into the kitchen. “I’m not sure Sam would appreciate that answer.” Sam Baker has been their best friend since high school and the local police chief.

  Anne, standing in her light gray slacks, purple silk blouse and pumps, puts a hand to her chest. “Oh! It’s you! Thank goodness!”

  “You’re a dork.”

  “A respectable dork.”

  Turning back around to the stove, Parker notices her blonde hair is pulled up into a French twist. She looks especially nice today. “Mom? Are you doing something special today?”

  “I’m going back to work,” she says over her shoulder. “I’m going to need something to do while you’re away at college. You know, so I don’t worry myself to death.”

  “Going to work with Daddy?”

  Setting a plate of pancakes in front of Parker, she smiles. “Yes, we’re going to try working together again.”

  “It’s going to be awesome,” Peter Lewis says walking into the kitchen with a light gray suit and a hideous purple tie with yellow polka dots on it. “Is that what the kids are saying these days?”

  “Dad, why do you always wear that tie?” Parker asks as she takes a forkful of pancake.

  “It’s my Monday tie,” he says as he looks down at it. “I’ve been wearing it every Monday for the past eleven years. Someone very special gave it to me for Father’s Day.”

  “It’s hideous, Daddy. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “You had a love of purple. There’s nothing wrong with that,” her mom says.

  “That’s why you’re wearing the purple blouse. You’re coordinating with Daddy. That might be a little much, don’t you think, guys?” Parker laughs.

  “I think it’s cute,” her mom says and kisses Peter quickly.

  “You two are too much.”

  Peter sits down on the stool next to Parker, and she looks over at his chestnut brown hair growing lighter at the temples. His mustache started going gray a few years ago, and he’s rocked the salt-and-pepper look ever since. Her mom looks like a twenty-year-older version of herself. Looking at her mom is like looking in a mirror with a few added laugh lines and a few gray hairs. Not that Parker would ever point them out.

  As her dad eats breakfast, Parker rinses off her dishes and puts them in the dishwasher. Moving to the pile of mail on the counter, she starts rummaging through to see if there is anything for her. Phone bill. Electric bill. Cable bill. State Mental Hospital.

  “Whatcha got there?” Peter asks Parker. “Your face looks like the definition of perplexed. If the dictionary had pictures. Which, sometimes, I think it should. Kids would understand so much better.”

  “You are both dorks,” she laughs. “It’s a letter from the State Mental Hospital addressed to you guys. Want me to open it?”

  “No,” Anne says quickly.

  “Do we know someone in there?” Parker’s eyebrows draw together.

  “This,” Peter says as she stands up and reaches to grab the letter out of Parker’s hands, “is the reason why you don’t agree to go with Sam to a charity event.”

  “What?”

  “You are served many free drinks, and the next thing you know, you’ve agreed to donate money to a cause you didn’t really know you had agreed to until after everything is all said and done, and you check your checkbook book balance the next morning. And now they keep asking for more money.”

  “We should keep donating, shouldn’t we? It must be a good cause to help those who really need it. Plus, it’s a tax right off, right?” Parker asks.

  “I’d rather focus our time and money on you and college,” Anne says clearing away Peter’s plate. She avoids looking at Parker, but Parker lets it go.

  “Mom, I have a scholarship. You don’t have to pay for tuition.”

  “We still have to buy items for your dorm, shower essentials, notebooks, a fancy calendar, and a new sophisticated wardrobe.”

  “Sophisticated?” Parker and Peter ask in unison.

  “It means not all jeans and hoodies, Park.”

  “I’m not wearing jeans or a hoodie right now, am I?”

  “Something you might want to wear to a party,” Peter offers and shrugs.

  “A non-alcoholic party,” Anne volunteers.

  “So, let me just make sure I have this straight. You want me to be an awkwardly overdressed attendee to a party thrown by nerds to ensure there is no alcohol provided?”

  “Exactly,” Anne says kissing the top of her head. “You’ve got it.”

  “Shoot me now. Please.”

  “Okay, maybe not the overdressed part,” Peter says.

  “I’m pretty sure more people are going to be wearing jeans and a hoodie than ‘sophisticated attire’ to these functions. Alcohol involved or not.”

  “But, you aren’t like everyone else,” Anne says over her shoulder as she walks to the entryway closet and pulls out a light jacket.

  “Oh, but I am. I really am.”

  “You’re special, kiddo,” Peter says.

  “You’re biased.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” He smiles and winks at her. “Have a good run?”

  “Yes, sir. I ran my usual loop. I think tomorrow I might run along the outskirts of town on the back roads. Get a few
extra miles in and shake things up a bit. My route is getting a little stale.”

  “You really need to start changing up your routes like Sam told you to,” Anne says.

  “Why?” Parker groans.

  “Because you don’t know what’s going to happen. Especially when you move away to college.”

  “Do you really think I’ll be in real danger?” Parker asks rolling her eyes.

  “I hope not, but isn’t it better to be proactive than regretful retroactively? None of our cops run the same route two days in a row.”

  “Sure they do, they take the same streets to the donut shop because none of our cops actually partake in physical exercise unless necessary,” Parker volunteers.

  “Parker,” Anne warns.

  “She’s not wrong, Anne,” Peter laughs. “Ready to go?”

  “Yes,” Anne says looking down at her clothes and purse.

  “You look great, Mom. You’ll knock ‘em dead in there with all their calculators and computer screens. You’ll be the best thing they’ve seen in fifteen years.”

  “Love you, kiddo,” Anne says.

  “Love you guys. Have fun!”

  Heading upstairs to her room of the past eighteen years, she grabs her laptop and lies down on the bed. Opening the local paper webpage, she sees a picture of a pretty blonde with the heading Local Woman Murdered. Clicking on the article, it reads the woman was only twenty from out of town and was last seen at Blitz, a club in the city. She was found early on the front steps of the library. It’s believed her death is connected to the death of Kimberly Harris. Both girls were left naked with their left eye removed and a cut placed just above their left eyebrow.

  Without thinking, Parker reaches up and touches the scar in the same spot. “This is just a coincidence,” she says aloud to herself.

  Getting up, she notices a letter on her desk. Wondering why it wasn’t with the mail downstairs, she grabs it and sees her name written in block letters on the front. Groaning inwardly, she opens it and reads the latest letter.

  Dearest Parker,

  I hope by now you’ve taken notice of the bodies I’ve left for you. My previous letters must have been a bit too vague for you to realize the love and affection I was trying to convey. I hope these latest acts of love are noticed. No matter what, they’ll never compare to you. Your beauty and familiarity are beyond compare, and I hope you appreciate the efforts I’ve taken to show my love for you.

  Love,

  K

  Gasping, she drops the letter on the desk. The previous four letters have been stupid “I love you” letters she assumed were a prank someone was playing on her. This one had to be a prank, too, right?

  Chapter 2

  Ryder Edwards stands outside in the eighty-two-degree weather washing his Harley and his pickup truck. Since he was still the new guy in town, he really didn’t know anyone well enough to spend time with on his days off. Nights, sure, but not days. Which was both a good and a bad thing.

  He moved from the wrong side of the city, and his mom still lives there as far as he knows. The only person he keeps in touch with regularly is his best friend, Mason Jackson, and he was usually off somewhere making trouble with the women he was bedding. At the same time. Mr. Love wasn’t his nickname because he was a serial monogamous.

  Opting to wearing only his old worn blue jeans with holes in the knees, he gently rubs his suds filled sponge along his black 1965 Ford F-100 pickup. He’s had the pickup since he was fourteen years old, and it was one of the only two things he holds of any value. Many people have offered to buy the pickup from him for a pretty penny, but he could never justify selling it. There was no amount of money he could tell himself was worth it.

  His sister, Tara, bought the truck for him as a way to lure him away from the dark side. She had been saving up for college, and instead, spent it all on this hunk of junk.

  “What did you buy this for?” he had asked her when he came home that day.

  “I bought it for you.”

  “Please don’t tell me you spent too much on it,” he said as he looked over it.

  “I spent enough.”

  “How much?”

  “My savings.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “Well, I am related to you. But I want you to fix it up.”

  “Tara, you wasted your future to buy this piece of crap sitting in the driveway for me? That’s crazy. You need to get your money back,” he said.

  “Can’t. All sales final. You can do it, Ryder. You just have to put your mind to it.”

  “Do you have any idea how much work this needs just to start? Not drive, but start?”

  Tara’s green eyes that matched his bore into his. “You can do it. I believe in you.”

  “You can’t throw your future away for this!” he exclaimed again.

  “I’m not throwing away my future. I’m building yours.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’ve seen the guys you’re hanging out with. I know what they do, and I know what they want you to do. You need a different outlet. Don’t follow in Ma’s footsteps, Ryder. You’re better than that. You’re smarter than that. You’re capable of anything. And I want to make sure you get to keep that.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Maybe, but I also know you won’t let me down. I know you will get this running before you graduate.”

  Thanks to Tara, Ryder had no time for the bad crowd he was starting to fall in with, and he learned to put aside his differences with others to learn what he needed to keep the faith Tara instilled in him. Mr. Miller, the shop teacher in his high school, and he almost came to blows a few times in class. But once he got the pickup, he knew he had to bury the hatchet with the man. Ryder knew nothing about fixing up cars, and Mr. Miller had a love of classic cars.

  This was his first taste in learning his elders had their own lives and troubles. While Ryder never knew his father, he learned Mr. Miller had lost a son. The anger Ryder believed was just the man being crotchet was really a man in pain. His son enlisted and went overseas, and he never came back. No matter how honorable he was, his death hurt everyone around him. The death caused so much grief Mr. Miller’s wife left him and started a whole new family.

  They bonded over that car, both finally understanding where the other’s aggression stemmed from. This man, whom he once believe he hated, was the closest thing to a father Ryder had ever known. And he still feels the pain of his passing to this day. It was like burying his own father. He may have only spent a few years bonding with Mr. Miller, but he was one of the few people Ryder felt he could truly turn to and depend on.

  Taking a deep breath, he straightens his back and shakes off the feelings coming over him. He doesn’t do feelings. Instead, he focuses on the shiny black pickup in front of him, the sweat beading on his forehead, and the feeling of the sun on his tattooed arms. His phone starts vibrating in his pocket, and he pulls it out to see Vanessa’s name come across the screen.

  Vanessa Barton is his lady of the night. She has long bleached hair, and wonderful curves, but she wants more than Ryder is willing to give her. Instead of just being his lady of the night, she’s trying to be his lady at all times of the day. And this just won’t work. He ignores the call and puts his phone back into his pocket.

  A flash of orange catches his eye, and he turns to see Parker Lewis running down the sidewalk by his house. This was a sight he’s become accustomed to since he lived only three doors down from her best friend’s house. He takes in the sight of her long, tan legs, and he has to catch himself.

  “She’s off-limits,” he says under his breath. “Plus, she’s a relationship-girl. Recipe for disaster, man.”

  “Talking to me or yourself?” she asks as she stops in his driveway.

  “What?”

  “You were just mumbling something as you looked at me.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to remember if I’d already waxed my
bike or not,” he lies.

  “No worries. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t ignoring you.” She smiles and starts jogging again.

  Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and her piercing blue eyes made his knees a little weak every time he saw her. She has a natural beauty few people possess, and the fact she’s completely oblivious to it makes her even more attractive. She doesn’t have many curves due to being an avid runner, but he still found himself imagining her naked at night.

  “Chief’s goddaughter,” he says as he shakes his head. “He’d shoot me for even thinking what I’m thinking right now.”

  Parker strolls up to Paige Moore’s house. Paige is sitting outside in a yellow sundress, and converse sneakers. Her fire red hair is cut in a pixie cut, and she wears far too much makeup to cover the freckles on her pale cheeks. She’s cute, but she’s not the type Ryder would typically notice. Mason, on the other hand, had a thing for redheads. She’d be right up his alley. Which means Ryder has to keep him away at all costs.

  “Parker!” Page says jumping up. She looks around nervously. “What are you doing here?”

  Ryder busies himself with washing his truck to avoid staring at the two girls. The last thing he needed was for them to report to Sam he was eavesdropping. He couldn’t help listening, but they didn’t need to know he could hear them.

  Parker says something Ryder can’t hear, but he notices she pulls a white envelope from her pocket.

  “You’re crazy,” Paige says laughing and pulls out the piece of paper and laughs.

  “Am I crazy?” Parker asks after Paige finishes reading the note. There was a hint of hope in her voice, as though she was asking for validation.

  “No, I don’t,” Paige says quietly, but Ryder is still able to hear. “You need to bring this to Sam. Right away. This is getting scary now.”