Guardian

By Kaitlyn O'Connor

Marilyn’s neighbor may be drop dead gorgeous, but something is really strange about the guy. The cops won’t listen to her intuition, though, and she feels like it’s her civic duty to find out whether he’s up to something nefarious or not.

It’s really unfortunate, for her, that she isn’t nearly as good at ‘detecting’ as she thought she would be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Concepts Publishing
• Release date: Mar 19, 2021

Book preview

Guardian

By

Kaitlyn O’Connor

Copyright ( c ) Madris DePasture writing as Kaitlyn O’Connor February 2021

Cover Art by Jenny Dixon

Smashwords Edition

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Chapter One

Marilyn had chewed the fledgling nails off of three fingers and started on the fourth before the receptionist called her, directing her to the office belonging to the detective she’d been assigned to speak to. She jumped guiltily when the cop behind the desk barked her name and tore a cuticle. Ignoring the pain, she bounded out of her seat and dropped her purse on the floor. It took her ten minutes to scoop up the collection it held; receipts, pens, pencils, her wallet, tissues, a couple of screws, the leftovers from her lunch, half a candy bar from snack break, and store coupons—hair brush, lip balm and hair tie.

A roach crawled out, as well, and she hurriedly stomped it with her shoe and flicked it under the chair she’d been sitting in.

She was going to have a ‘word’ with her landlord, she thought, angry and embarrassed and wondering who might have noticed.

She was already thoroughly rattled and she hadn’t even talked to anybody! Her cheeks were cherry red when she straightened at last and moved to the door. It was locked and that flustered her more.

Absolutely nothing was going the way she’d envisioned it in her mind when she’d decided it was her civic duty to report the strange goings on in her apartment building, specifically the very odd behavior of one of the tenants on her floor. But the longer she’d sat waiting, the less convinced she was that she actually was doing the right thing.

She’d reached the point, in fact, where she had almost convinced herself to get up and leave without saying anything at all, except she wasn’t sure they’d just let her walk out when she’d already asked to talk to a detective. Uh … I’m sorry … uh … which door?

He buzzed it to let her in and she hurriedly grabbed the pull to stop the buzzing, snatching it open.

She paused again when she’d entered the hallway behind it. Uh … I’m sorry. What’s the detective’s …?

Dilliard.

Nodding a little jerkily, beginning to deeply regret the impulse that had prompted her visit to the local police station, she headed down the hallway, checking the doors as she passed—shoulders hunched, elbows clamped at her waist, her purse secured on her crossed arms.

Every room was filled with busy people, or at least people trying to look busy whether they were or not. The noise level was … uncomfortable.

But then again, her own workplace was as quiet as a tomb.

The door was standing ajar when she reached the detective’s office. She paused and rapped her knuckles on the door molding.

A stout man of indeterminate years turned his head, frowning at her. Ms. …uh … Carter? he inquired after he’d found a piece of paper and read it.

His chair squawked as he pushed it back and stood up. It was a rolling chair so it was either the age of the chair or the weight of the man that suggested it might fall apart at any time.

Marilyn tripped over something as she surged forward.

She paused and scanned the floor a little distractedly.

She had to suppose it was the ‘invisible’ bump she kept tripping over for the floor looked perfectly smooth.

Or her shoe had ‘grabbed’ just to make her look clumsy and stupid.

Have a seat, the man said, pointing to a straight backed chair squeezed between the front of his desk and the wall. What can I help you with today, Ms … uh …. He paused, rifling through the papers on his desk. Carter?

He couldn’t remember a name that simple? Or he was just trying to make her feel inconsequential?

Marilyn perched on the edge of the chair, miserably uncomfortable now that she was faced with the actuality of the meeting she had envisioned. It didn’t feel ‘right’. She didn’t feel righteous. Faced with his cool, impersonal politeness and what felt like a complete lack of interest in the business that had brought her, the urge to flee churned in her belly and made her hands and feet cold and clammy with nerves.

What if this ruined the poor man’s life and he hadn’t done anything at all? What if he just seemed suspicious to her because he was a little strange? I … uh … Well. You know they say if you see something, say something? she finished in a rush.

Something flickered in his beady eyes. You witnessed something? he asked sharply.

Marilyn forced a nervous laugh, struggling with her fluctuating color. Oh … om … not anything specific. I just thought ….

Now she could see skepticism in the man’s expression. He sat back and dragged out a note pad and a pen. Let me just get a little information from you. Full name?

Marilyn blinked at him, wondering uneasily why he needed her name. She wasn’t reporting herself! Marilyn Elizabeth Carter, she said finally.

And this report is about something you saw?

Dismay flickered through Marilyn, but she felt compelled, now, to answer the best she could—and also to throw in a caveat to absolve herself of guilt and make her neighbor look innocent or at least less guilty than she’d thought he was. I didn’t actually see anything. That’s why I came here—because I thought he might be up to something and that y’all would want to check it out. It’s my neighbor. Well, one of my neighbors. I live in an apartment building. And, actually he’s just on the same floor so I don’t know if you’d really call that a neighbor.

The detective stared at her, tapping his pen. So … you saw your neighbor doing something?

Oh it was nothing like that.

He tilted his head. What was it like then, Ms. Carter?

There was just a touch of impatience in his voice now.

The urge to leap to her feet and run assailed, Marilyn. She didn’t because she was afraid they would chase her—like a dog was prone to if you were stupid enough to run—and she was pretty sure her legs wouldn’t hold out if she was chased.

She clutched her purse a little tighter, struggling. She thought she had rehearsed it all in her mind so that she could tell it in a clear and concise and easily understandable way. But she was so nervous she couldn’t seem to gather her thoughts or put them in any kind of order. I just … get this feeling that something isn’t quite right about him.

So … it’s a man? A young man? Old man? White, black, Hispanic? he asked briskly.

Marilyn felt her face redden. Her belly knotted. Abruptly, this seemed like a really, really bad idea. "Well,