Plain Obsession (Hunters Ridge Book 1)

by Alison Stone

  A hurt look swept across Theo's handsome features. "I never told her. I kept your confidence. I would never. Why…?" He searched her face.

  "After Jenny told me I was your pity date, she pushed me in a stall and held the door closed. I freaked out, started crying and banging on the door. I had an all-out panic attack. I made a fool of myself."

  He brushed a hand across her forearm. "I didn't tell her."

  Violet lowered her gaze. "By the time she let me out, I was beside myself." She shielded her eyes with her hand. "You should have seen the look in her eyes. She was outright giddy." Violet dropped her hand. "By then, the bathroom was filled with girls from my class. How could I ever face them again? Everything I had worked for…" She let out a long, shaky breath. "I'm just glad I could pull myself together to get away, go to college."

  "I'm so, so sorry Jenny did that to you. She's insecure. We dated for most of high school and had broken up shortly before you and I decided to go to prom together."

  Violet already knew that.

  "Jenny stopped at my house the night before prom in tears, begging me to take her back. Take her to prom. That we were meant to go to prom together. I told her I couldn't because I had already promised to take you."

  "Yeah, because you were doing the Weavers a favor because they were friends with your dad."

  "That may have been how it started, but I was happy to take you. Yeah unfortunately, I did downplay it to Jenny. Told her I was doing a favor. She was being irrational. I had to tell her something." He scrubbed a hand across his face. "I should have known better. I was young. Immature. But I promise you, I didn't betray your trust. I did not tell her about your panic attacks and what had brought you to Hunters Ridge."

  She studied his eyes. She believed him. Jealous Jenny was cruel. She didn't know locking Violet in the bathroom stall would cause her to panic.

  "Apparently I'm not a quick learner." Theo angled his head to catch her eye, a flicker of humor lighting his. He obviously had gone back to Jenny, a relationship that resulted in Liam. "But I think God had a hand in that. I don't know what I'd do without that little guy."

  Violet smiled at him, debating if she really could trust him. But what choice did she have? And what harm could he do if he did talk? She wasn't a weak seventeen-year-old. She was a young woman who needed a chance to recover after her best friend was murdered. No shame in that.

  Violet cleared her throat. "I don't have any proof, but I'm convinced my stalker killed Abby and is now in Hunters Ridge. I think he's having fun taunting me because heaven knows he's had plenty of opportunity to do far worse."

  Chapter 8

  Violet found the keys for her mother's SUV in a lockbox in the mudroom next to the garage. She palmed the weight of them, debating if she really wanted to take out the oversized vehicle. It would certainly be more solid in the snow, but Violet had never driven anything that large.

  After her confession last night, Theo had convinced her to call his sister, Deputy Olivia Cooper, to report the two suspicious incidences. Once faced with the uniform, Violet tried to skirt around her stalker theory—that had been her default after all the years her mother had told her she had been imagining things—but Theo convinced her that law enforcement needed to know every angle.

  Violet stuffed her feet into her shoes and stepped down the two stairs in the attached garage. She climbed behind the wheel of the large SUV and pressed the remote clipped to the visor. Through the rear-view mirror she watched as the garage door rumbled as it climbed up the tracks. She found herself automatically searching the snow on the driveway for any suspicious tracks.

  Nothing, thank goodness.

  Isaac and Betty had arrived home last night while Olivia was still there. They assured her that they'd make sure the house alarm was set and that all the doors and windows were locked. Their presence made Violet feel calmer.

  She wasn't alone. And after last night, she now felt Theo was firmly on her side, too.

  Violet adjusted all the mirrors on the SUV and wondered when the last time was that someone had driven this beast. It was only a few years old—one of her mother's assistants had probably automatically kept a newish vehicle in the garage, just in case—and had less than a thousand miles on the speedometer.

  Violet backed out, careful not to take off the mirror on the side of the garage. Huge accomplishment!

  The thoughts that kept her awake last night continued to swirl in her head as she drove to work. She wondered where reality stopped and her obsessive thoughts took over.

  Last night, Olivia had pressed her regarding any other enemies she might have. She had laughed and told her she hadn't been in Hunters Ridge long enough to make enemies, but she knew that wasn't necessarily true. The Graber family wished their lovely daughter had never met the likes of Violet, and Jenny made no bones about her dislike for her. But were either angry enough to try to hurt her? And did that make sense? Violet had found Abby’s body in her apartment in New York before her run-ins with Elmer and Jenny in Hunters Ridge. It made more sense that her stalker had followed her to Hunters Ridge. If any of this even made sense at all. How would he have found her here? Her mother’s country home had been a well-kept secret except for a few of her fellow high school classmates from years ago. And the New York City police considered Abby’s death a case of wrong place, wrong time.

  Oh, my head hurts.

  When Violet finally pulled into the parking lot at work, a strange realization swept over her. She had been so focused on driving an unfamiliar vehicle—things like, did she have to twist the knob or lift the lever to turn up the wipers? Where’s the defrost control? How does the seat move up?—that she had forgotten to obsess over any potential body symptoms that would indicate the beginning of a panic attack. Not to mention that her thoughts had been focused on who was out to get her. She laughed at the irony. Maybe Betty had been right all along. Getting out of the house was the first step to managing her anxiety, and God willing, getting over it.

  And back to the life she had left behind.

  But first, they had to figure out who was harassing her. A twinge of panic tingled in her fingers.

  Stop.

  Two steps forward, one step back.

  Deep breath.

  Violet grabbed the laptop and the box of receipts from the back seat and made her way to the trailer. Tucking the box of receipts under her arm, she turned the door handle and it stuck. She adjusted the strap of her laptop case over her shoulder and tried to open the door again. A rustling sounded behind the door, then it sprung open. Theo stood in the doorway dressed in jeans and a hunter green sweater. The color suited him.

  Theo examined the door handle, jiggling it. "I need to fix that. One of these days I'm going to find myself locked inside."

  Violet stepped into the trailer and bumped her shoulder against his solid chest. "Sorry." She scooted around him and set her laptop down on the edge of the desk.

  "How'd you sleep?" he asked, his voice low.

  "I've had better nights, but I'm glad everything is out in the open."

  "Me, too." He smiled. The silence stretched into an awkward moment. "So, you brought your own laptop?"

  Violet pointed at his desktop. "Your computer is pretty old."

  "I guess it's one more thing I need to upgrade with my growing business."

  "It's okay. I can use my laptop and software, and before I'm done we can upgrade your systems and I can show you and Chad how to use it."

  Theo planted his hand on his hip and looked around. "I should really get another desk in here. Or maybe I can set one of those art desks in the corner. That's what I need to design more play sets."

  Violet slid behind the desk and sat. She moved some papers around to study one of his renderings. Beside the sketch of an elaborate play set, he had illustrated a yard and a family in the background. She ran her fingers over the images of the little children and the dog. She looked up and they locked gazes. "You're really good at this."

&
nbsp; The color in his face seemed to darken and he ran a hand over his hair in what she interpreted as a nervous gesture. He took a step closer and stared at the sketch over her shoulder. "I thought maybe seeing the big picture would help to sell the play sets."

  "We'll have to get a computer with enough memory for design software."

  He seemed to be considering this for a moment. "I thought including a hand-drawn sketch as instructions was part of our small town charm. Reflects our 'Made in America' thing going on here. People also like the Amish angle, too. They have a reputation for quality."

  Violet nodded slowly. "That's a really great idea. I like it. Keep our options open, right?"

  A slow smile crossed Theo's handsome features. "Maybe I'm not so green on this business stuff after all."

  Violet leafed through some of the receipts stacked on his desk. "Where did these come from?"

  "Chad had them in his truck." He shrugged, as if to say sorry.

  "No problem."

  Theo's eyes brightened. "You want a tour of the facility? I can show you how we put the kits together."

  Violet planted her hands on the desk and pulled herself to a standing position. She tugged on her shirt and brushed a hand across the thighs of her jeans. "Sounds great. These receipts aren't going anywhere."

  Theo held the door open to the warehouse for Violet. She stepped over the threshold and her wide brown eyes took everything in. A sense of pride filled him. The room hummed with activity. He was proud of himself for continuing the tradition started by his grandfather, handed down to his father and uncle, and now him.

  His cousin Chad was in on this, too, when he bothered to show up. He made a big show of getting more business, but Theo wasn't stupid. He could get the same clients in a fraction of the time. But their grandfather had started the business and the third generation had equal stakes in it.

  "How many people do you employ?" Violet asked.

  "Twenty-seven. Twenty of whom are Amish." He scanned the room. Men in black broad-brimmed hats worked at various stages of production. Even a few women in bonnets were employed here. This was a drastic change in the Amish community, from farming to industry.

  "I often wondered how the Amish felt about their young men and women leaving the farms," Violet said, walking slowly along the first workstation where an Amish man cut boards. She had to take a few steps away and raise her voice to be heard over the power saw. "And the issue with electricity? When I was in high school, I often felt like I lived in a different world. My mom could afford this beautiful home on the ridge, then we'd come into town and see the Amish families with their horses and buggies. It always seemed surreal. Almost like when my mother had some business in Williamsburg, Virginia and her assistant took me to see the reenactors. Except—"

  "The Amish are not reenactors."

  "Exactly."

  "Well, as much as the Amish don't want to change, want to keep everyone on the farm—they feel working the land is how they can be close to God—in this economy, it's not always practical. Land is expensive." With a hand to the small of her back, Theo guided Violet toward a pile of two-by-fours. "I've had the privilege of talking to the bishop. He'd rather see the young men employed here in town, rather than getting into the vans and working construction in cities away from here. It minimizes the influence of the outside world if they don't have to leave Hunters Ridge."

  "How do the Amish employees get to work? I've never noticed any buggies outside in the lot."

  "We have a van that picks them up in three shifts, their start times staggered by thirty minutes. If they took their buggies, we'd have to house the horses all day. It makes more sense to provide transportation."

  Violet nodded while running her hand along a piece of red cedar stacked on a table ready for the next step on the way to becoming a play set in someone's yard. The fragrant smell of wood wafted up to his nose and it made him nostalgic for a time when he used to come here as a young boy, when it was strictly a lumberyard. He was in awe of the work his father did here. His father was a giant in his eyes. Then, a few years later, Theo's mom abandoned them and he blamed his father. It seemed the logical course because his parents were always yelling. He assumed since his father was louder, it was his fault. The rift between father and son had made his teenage years rebellious.

  How wrong he was. His father had stayed.

  His mother was never cut out for small town life.

  How wrong Theo had been to blame his dad. To act out. To act like a punk who didn't care what anyone thought. It shamed him now. That was why he worked so hard to make sure his father had a retirement where he didn't have to worry about finances or his health.

  Theo owed him that much and more for being the one constant force in his life. And Theo was going to be that constant in Liam's life.

  Theo shook away the haunting memories and picked up a piece of wood. "This is for our premium kits."

  Violet glanced over her shoulder up at him. "Parents are willing to go all-out for their kids."

  "You should see the one I built for Liam in our backyard. It has two rock climbing walls, a rope swing and a bridge connecting two elevated playhouses."

  Violet lifted an eyebrow and smiled. "You're passionate about this."

  "I am." He nodded for emphasis. "When I was a kid, I used to come to the lumberyard and imagine all the things that could be built with the wood. However, it took my dad getting sick for me to come home and take ownership." He scratched his ear, feeling like perhaps he was exposing too much of his soul.

  Violet moved toward another workstation where a young Amish woman was making kits of fasteners and other hardware for the play sets and putting them in clear plastic bags. She had on fingerless gloves.

  "A little cold in here for you, Lorianne?" Theo asked. Then he looked at Violet who was staring at the young woman—and remembered she was Abby's sister. He kept the conversation casual. "I need to get some estimates on getting this shell of a warehouse insulated."

  Lorianne smiled, her smooth white complexion in sharp contrast to her black bonnet. "I don't mind the cold." She lifted her fingerless-gloved hands and waved. "It beats working on the farm in the summer. I don't like to be hot. And farm work is backbreaking. This work"—she lifted a silver hook in her delicate fingers—"is a pleasure. And it helps us get through the winter."

  "Hi, Lorianne. How are you?" Violet asked, blotches of pink alighting on her skin.

  "Fine." Lorianne suddenly seemed to get shy and dipped her head.

  Violet looked like she wanted to say more, but let it drop. She wore the guilt over Abby's death in the delicate lines around her eyes. He wished he knew of a way to lift that burden.

  "Nice to see you," Violet said before wandering over to a lower shelf and running her hand along a box. "Kits for the play sets?"

  "Yes." He pointed to a wall of boxes on shelving, realizing she probably didn't really care, not as much as she pretended to. Her thoughts were with Lorianne and Abby.

  "And all these sets are presold?" she asked, her tone chipper.

  He wanted to tell her she didn't need to pretend with him, but decided now was not the time.

  "Yes, we've sold them to big box stores. Chad's job. They want them in stock so customers don't have to wait for them. The stores are able to make extra money on these because they charge for installation."

  Violet crossed her arms. "Ever think about doing the installation yourselves? Increase the profit margin?"

  "We'd have to hire more people. And we'd only be able to install them regionally. Believe it or not, we're selling these kits to stores all across the US."

  Violet nodded slowly as if she were deep in thought. "That's great."

  "Now you can see why I want to get the finances in order. It's taken off. It's bigger than I ever imagined."

  Violet smiled. "I'm happy to help. I can get you organized and either train you or my replacement."

  "Already planning for your departure?" A smile teased the corner
s of his mouth.

  "I didn't mean that. I just wanted to reassure you that once I get an accounting system in place, I won't dump it off and run."

  "Good to know."

  Theo's phone rang and he grabbed it and swiped his hand across the screen. "It's Liam's school," he whispered, a twinge of nerves tangling in his gut. A call from school midmorning generally wasn't a good thing. "Hello."

  "Mr. Cooper?"

  "Yes."

  "This is Principal Elizabeth Finley. I have Liam here in my office."

  "What's wrong?" The idea of broken bones, an upset stomach, unfinished homework flashed through his mind.

  The principal cleared her throat. "Perhaps it would be best if your son told you what happened."

  Theo's ears got hot. This definitely isn't good. He held up his finger and whispered to Violet, "I need to take this. Feel free to keep looking around. I'll be back in a few minutes."

  Pressing the cell phone to his ear, Theo stepped outside. The cold wind bit at his face, but he wasn't focused on that. He was concentrating on the indecipherable mutterings and sniffling from his son on the other end of the line.

  "Hi, Dad," Liam said, his voice low and contrite.

  "What's up, buddy?" Theo's pulse thudded in his ears. He wasn't sure why he was having such a visceral reaction to a phone call even before he knew what was going on. But he knew it was unlikely the principal was calling him during the day to tell him his son had done well on a spelling test.

  "I didn't mean it." Liam's voice was shaky. "But she made me mad."

  "What happened?"

  "I used a bad word when Molly broke my pencil."

  There was so much to analyze in that one statement. Theo crossed his arms to stay warm. "Molly's a girl in your class?"

  Liam didn't answer, but Theo could envision him nodding his head, a lock of brown hair dropping over one eye.