Passerby: A Psychological Thriller

by Britney King

  “I’m off duty,” Johnny says, which is a lie. He’s never really off duty.

  I don’t want to seem petty in front of Dr. Erichs, so I shrug. “Sure, I’ll fix his face.”

  When I walk over to the sink to scrub my hands, Davis closes his eyes and lets out a long and heavy sigh. “This better get me a discount on my bill.”

  “You should have waited,” Johnny says to Davis after Dr. Erichs leaves the room. “Why didn’t you wait?”

  “He knocked Ashley to the ground and then he ran off. What was I supposed to do, let him go?”

  “Yes,” Johnny and I shout at the same time.

  “After what he did to that girl?” He moves as he speaks, and I almost drop the needle. “You two think I should just let him get away with it?”

  “That’s what cops are for,” Johnny says. He doesn’t mean it, at least not when it comes to personal matters, but I appreciate the effort.

  “The Holts get away with enough, don’t you think?”

  “With worse,” Johnny says. “Yes.”

  “What’s worse than what he did to her?”

  Johnny shakes his head. “Let’s hope you don’t find out.”

  “We don’t know it was Bobby Holt,” I say.

  “The hell we don’t. Everyone in this town knows it was him. And this is what—the third time something like this has happened?”

  “Still.” I pull the last stitch through and tie it off. “You shouldn’t have gone after him alone.”

  “I did okay.”

  I tap the ice pack on his hand, causing him to wince. “You sure about that?”

  Johnny clears his throat. “How’d you come to be involved?”

  “I saw Kurt Latham across the street, and I jogged over to ask how the boat repair was coming.”

  My brow raises. “He’s had it forever.”

  “You know how Kurt is…”

  Johnny cocks his head. “And?”

  “Ashley was waiting for me across the street. By the courthouse. Said she wanted to read the plaque near the gazebo, and that’s when she stumbled on the situation…”

  “So she saw Bobby Holt attacking the girl?”

  His eyes narrow. “No, but he was near her. And she was crying.”

  “And then what?” I say.

  “I helped Ashley to her feet and checked her over and then I followed him. I hopped into my truck and followed him straight to his house.”

  “Did you kill him?” Johnny asks.

  “No. But he won’t be messing with any girls anytime soon. Let’s put it that way.”

  Johnny rubs his jaw. “You should have killed him.”

  “I don’t want to go to prison.”

  “Yeah, well, what you have instead is a permanent target on your back.”

  I don’t say it. But I don’t disagree.

  Chapter Seven

  Ruth

  I don’t see Ashley Parker again until the following morning. I’m in the big house, known to guests as Magnolia House, but home to me, when I hear the screen door at the front of the house creak open and then slam shut.

  I stare out the window over the kitchen sink, looking out into the garden. It feels like someone is watching me. Little hairs at the base of my neck stand on end, as though there’s an electric energy around, the kind that can be felt but not seen.

  Outside, everything seems fine. Inside may be a different story, but out there, the sun is shining and the birds are chirping. I can’t deny it’s a beautiful morning, even if I’ve hardly slept and I’m hungover. Even if the events of last night are weighing heavy on my mind. Even if it feels like someone is watching me, waiting for…well, I don’t know what.

  I’m aggressively scrubbing at a stain on my favorite coffee mug when I hear someone come in and slide a kitchen chair across the hardwood floor. I know it’s her without turning around. I can smell the fresh lilac scent of her shampoo. It smells like the rest of her looked last night on the courthouse lawn—expensive. My stomach flip-flops, the nausea building like tall waves that threaten to take me down. I felt like a drink last night after we got home from the emergency room. But then, one turned into two, which turned into I’m not sure how many.

  “Good morning,” she says, and even though I know she is there, even though I heard her come in and I am expecting it, I still flinch. She bids me a good morning like she means it. But I hear the disparity. There’s a softness to her voice that so neatly contains its rough edges.

  After I’ve placed the coffee mug back in its rightful spot in the cupboard, I turn to face her, resting the small of my back against the counter. It aches like the rest of me. “Morning.”

  A lump forms in my throat, almost against my will. She looks out of place in this kitchen, at our table. I can’t recall the last time we had a guest in this part of the house. It’s reserved for family and, on occasion, staff. Julia, too, of course. She is practically family.

  Ashley Parker tilts her head and studies me with concern. “Everything okay?” She doesn’t tell me I look like shit, but she doesn’t have to. Her expression does it for her.

  “Perfectly fine,” I manage to reply when what I want to offer is the truth. She shouldn’t be here. We don’t just let anyone in. Some parts of Magnolia House are just for family. And whatever she is, she’s not that.

  Instead, what comes out sounds like “Coffee” with a quirked brow and a question mark on the end. Mama taught me nothing if not to be polite.

  It’s too warm out already to feel in the mood for hot coffee, but I woke up groggy and I wanted the comfort of the heat, so I put on a pot.

  “I’d love some,” she says, rising to her feet. She motions toward the coffeepot. “But I can get it. Just point me toward the cups.”

  She’s already made her way to the cabinet, already reaching for the mug before I manage to stretch words from my brain to my mouth. I hold my breath as her fingers brush the mug I’ve just replaced. Daddy’s mug. She takes it and sets it on the counter like it’s nothing.

  “Not this one,” I say, snatching it off the counter, placing it back where it belongs. I pull another mug and hold it out to her. “These are for guests.”

  She gives me the onceover and moves in to take it. Her face remains neutral, and I hate her a bit for that. “You know what?” I pull my hand back and walk over to the coffeepot. “Here,” I say, filling the cup. “Let me.”

  She sits slowly, smoothing her dress out, crossing her legs at the ankle. She’s going to fit right in around here, and I hate her for that, too.

  A gust of wind blows through the curtains, sending them flying forward, and I’m thankful for the chance to look away. From the corner of my eye, I watch as she stares out at the street. Tourists are already riding bikes, many in search of breakfast, and the early birds have already begun lugging their things down to the beach. “I don’t remember it being this lovely.”

  I set the coffee in front of her. “Careful, it’s hot.”

  As she wraps her hands around the cup, I take the opportunity to really look at her. She can’t be a day over twenty-five, at least a full decade younger than Davis, who is a few years behind me. Her platinum blonde hair is swept up into a loose chignon, and her face is mostly perfect and bare, save for a touch of light eyeliner on her lids. A hint of mascara accentuates her pale blue eyes. She looks flawless, which isn’t that hard when you’re twenty-five, and I wonder what time she got up to look this put together, or if she always wakes up this way.

  “You must get up early,” she remarks. “In order to manage all of this.”

  “Usually, yes.” I don’t know what to say or how to move, not even in my own home. I am not one for small talk, and her eyes make me feel like a housefly that has just been pinned to a wall. Sometimes I don’t sleep at all, but I don’t tell her this. With fourteen guest rooms, complimentary breakfast, a wine cellar, a library and full-service concierge, there’s always something to do.

  “I can’t imagine how you do it. Dave
y has only told me bits here and there—” She presses her lips to her mug. “But I get the sense it takes a lot to run this place. It’s so elegant.”

  “It’s old.”

  “Stunning is what it is. They don’t make houses like this anymore.” She reaches for the newspaper and slides it from one side of the table to the other. “And I have to say…I’m kind of surprised. In a good way. Davey didn’t tell me you were this pretty.”

  You should have seen me a few years ago. “Speaking of—how is my brother this morning?”

  She sucks in a deep breath and forces it out. “He’s pretty sore. At least he’s up. You know him—nothing keeps him down for long.”

  But do you know him? I start to ask her this, and a million other things, but then I think better of it. “And you, are you feeling better?”

  “Oh, much.” She folds forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I slept like a baby.”

  There’s a thumping sound above our heads, and then a bigger racket. It sounds like someone dragging a heavy chair across the floor.

  “I think Davey was right. I just needed to be near the ocean. I mean…yeah, the guest house is old, and the walls are paper thin, but I love the vibe. It’s soooo cozy… I may never leave.”

  “You’ve visited Jester Falls before?”

  “Me?” Her left hand touches her chest. “No.”

  “Huh.” I shift from one foot to the other. “I thought you just said you didn’t remember it being this lovely.”

  “Ah,” she quips. “Well…yes…I mean…once.” She sighs wistfully. “A long time ago.”

  I don’t ask for details because I really don’t care. The only thing that concerns me at the moment is what I need to do to get rid of her. “What do you do?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  I know she heard me and I don’t think she’s that dense. “For a living?”

  “Oh.” She smiles. “I’m a teacher…” Her smile expands to fill her entire face. “Kindergarten. I love that age.”

  Of course. I’ve never seen a teacher in my whole life that looks like her. A model, or influencer, or whatever they’re calling them these days, sure. A trust fund baby, absolutely. But not a teacher.

  “Interesting. Davis has told me nothing,” I say, and I wonder if he even thought to ask. With looks like hers, I’m guessing not many people do.

  She waves a perfectly manicured hand in the air. “Sounds like Davey. You know how men are, always leaving out the finer details.”

  Hearing her call him Davey sets my shoulders straight. No one has called him that, not since Mama. I wonder if she knows this. I wonder what else he’s told her.

  “I mean, he hasn’t told me much,” she offers, and she’s a mind reader, this one. “He was just so excited to show me around his hometown that I couldn’t help but be excited, too. And then to come in on the biggest weekend of the year, I just feel like it was meant to be, him bringing me here.”

  “Has it changed since the last time?” I’m fishing and she senses that.

  “I really can’t say.” She shrugs coyly. “I was a child. I hardly remember.”

  You’re still a child.

  “I was bummed to miss the kick-off last night.”

  Liar.

  “Sometimes I get carsick and well, the whole thing with Gabby… It was a lot,” she says, and it looks like she might choke up. She’s not a teacher. She’s an actress.

  “After Cole brought me back to the guest house—and he was so sweet, by the way, making sure I got in safe and made it into bed—I don’t know what got into me, only that I was so tired, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. And then, the next thing I know I woke up and Davey—”

  I don’t want to hear anymore, so I cut her off. I hate that she calls him that. “You have to be careful about the heat. It can really getcha if you’re not used to it.”

  “Yeah...” She finishes her coffee. “It was just so sweet the way he tiptoed in. And then he climbed into bed and I saw his face and I couldn’t believe it. The way he talked… I thought Jester Falls was safe.”

  “It’s not safe,” I lie. Or maybe this is the truth. At this point, I can’t say.

  “Well, someone really needs to do something about that.”

  “Seems like they did.”

  “No,” she quips. “That maniac is still out there. And after what he did to Davey… Well, someone really ought to take care of him…”

  “Who’d you have in mind?” I ask facetiously.

  She narrows her eyes. “I’m not as naïve as I look.”

  Ashley Parker doesn’t expand on her sentiment, and I don’t ask her to. This might have been a mistake. “That,” I tell her, “I’m certain of.”

  “Poor Davey.” I wince every time she speaks. Her tone is whiny, like nails on a chalkboard, and the hangover doesn’t help. “I really feel for him. He’s going to be moving slow for a while.”

  I ignore her in favor of putting dishes away. I hired someone new last week, and no matter how many times I, or Julia, show her, she continues to do things her own way.

  “He was supposed to take me dancing tonight,” she sighs. “Still. I’m so proud. He’s such a hero!”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

  “Really?” Ashley cocks her head to one side and watches me closely. “Well, I slept soundly knowing.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Davis said he found you on the road…”

  “That’s right.” She brushes a crumb off the table and into her hand. “God, I was so lucky he was passing by.”

  “Seems risky letting a stranger pick you up.”

  “Believe me, it was.” I’m not expecting her to say anything else, but when she opens her mouth, words come pouring out. She speaks a million miles a minute. “It was stupid, really. I should have known better than to try to get anywhere in that clunker. I actually thought Davey could get me back on the road.”

  She watches as I wipe down the table. When I look over at her, she’s shaking her head as though she’s lost in thought. “In a sense, I guess he did. And now, here I am.”

  I offer a tight smile. It’s the best I can do. “And now, here you are.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ruth

  I’m on my way to Hillford to pick up several items I have on order at the hardware store. I also need to grab a few groceries and drop by the post office.

  I’ve shifted the car into reverse when I hear a loud thump come from the trunk. It catches me off guard, and my heart leaps into my throat. My breathing becomes taxing, as though my lungs are relearning how to function for the first time.

  When I glance in the rearview mirror, I am expecting the worst, but all I see is a pretty blonde in a yellow summer dress. Shit. My mouth goes dry, and I get a funny feeling in my stomach. I almost wish it were one of the thousand other things my mind darted to. Anything but this. Anything but her. I pump the brakes, purposefully flashing the tail lights several times. I expect that she’ll move to the side and let me pass, but she doesn’t, or at least not enough to allow for a quick getaway without mowing her over.

  It could solve a lot of problems, to be sure, but it would be a weak move, and I have a low-key agenda in mind for the rest of the day.

  She shakily makes her way around the side of the car, high heels and uneven gravel ensuring the journey is a tricky one. She motions for me to lower my window and because I know what is coming, I am tempted to step on the gas and hightail it out of here, but then there’s a strange feeling that stops me. What if something has happened to Davis? What if, Ruth, you could somehow use this experience to your advantage?

  I don’t know where these thoughts come from, only that they bother me enough to take notice.

  She’s all smiles, her perfectly capped teeth blinding me like the sun. “Davey said you were going into town. Mind if I tag along?”

  “Yes, actually.” I don’t have a lot going on at the moment, but she doesn’t know that. And I am certainly not going to si
t around chauffeuring twenty-somethings. That’s my brother’s job. He brought her here. He can handle the babysitting.

  Her expression falls. “Please? I promise not to be any trouble.” She looks away toward the guest house, and then back at me. “I just need to run into the drugstore and grab a few things.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not going by the drugstore. I’m going to the post office and the hardware store and I’m in a hurry. Maybe my brother can drive you. Either of them…”

  “The post office? Oh, good. I need to pick up some stamps for the postcards I bought to send to my student.”

  “I can grab them for you. How many do you need?”

  She grips a hold of my door like her life depends on it. “Ruth. Please.”

  “I—”

  “Davis’s truck is a stick shift. He’s not feeling well, and I don’t want to bother Johnny. And you’re already going—”

  “Fine,” I hiss. “Get in.”

  We drive to Hillford, which is a good half-hour away, and Ashley is mostly quiet except for the fact that she hums to the tune of every song on the radio, no matter how many times I change the station. She knows all the songs, even the classical ones without words. So eventually, I am forced to turn the radio off altogether.

  “Do you think that truck is following us?” she asks, breaking the silence. She’s staring in her side mirror, chewing at her bottom lip.

  I glance in the rearview mirror. “We’re on a two-lane road. Where else is he supposed to go?”

  She shrugs and perks up a bit. “You’re probably right.”

  I readjust my hands on the wheel.

  “It’s just, he’s been behind us for a while.”

  “Like I said, two-lane road. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “That’s what scares me.”

  I straighten my back and watch the truck in my mirror alternating between the rearview and side mirror. “Well, I’m not scared.”

  I see her hand brace the grip on the passenger door.

  “Tell you what, I’ll take the next turnoff just to prove it to you.”