Neighborhood Watch Read online

  Back Cover

  Horror Paranormal Thriller by Stuart R. West

  It used to be such a nice neighborhood. Derek and his wife Toni were content living in the quiet suburbs of Barton, Kansas. Until the new neighbors moved in. Rude, brash, loud, but there was something more to them. Something Derek couldn't put his finger on. And the older neighbors were dying off at an alarming rate. Were Derek’s past mental issues resurfacing or was he on to a darker truth? And just what is in the basement of the house on Pawnee Lane?

  Neighborhood Watch

  by Stuart R. West

  Published by MuseItUp Publishing at Smashwords

  ISBN: 978-1-77127-489-0

  Copyright 2014 Stuart R. West

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  I’d like to give a huge old shout-out and dedication

  to my friend and writer extraordinaire, Gail Roughton.

  Without her slapping me silly, extraordinary patience,

  keeping me in line, and teaching me the ropes,

  the book you’re about to read wouldn’t be what it is.

  Acknowledgements

  Acknowledgement must go to my MuseItUp Publishing team. I’m constantly learning from their support, knowledge, talent, and expertise. So this goes out to you, Tanja Cilia (editor supreme and a supreme human being), Penny Ehrenkranz, Charlie Volnek, and Lea Schizas.

  Chapter One

  “Oh, dear God, help me!”

  The cry for help sounded far away, yet urgent. Derek Winton sat back from his computer and listened.

  “Please, someone help me. Don’t let them take me.”

  The words were unmistakably clear now. Derek bounded down the stairwell. He pulled open the front door and stopped short on the threshold.

  “Don’t let them do this to me. Help me, dear God, help me.” Over the hedgerow, Derek saw his neighbor in her front yard, screaming. Hands raised toward the sky, she spun like a dervish. Her yellow bathrobe billowed above the lawn, an uprooted dandelion. “Don’t let them take me, God, please!” She stumbled then collapsed.

  Derek dashed down the four steps and raced around the hedgerow into Katherine’s yard.

  “Oh, God, don’t let them come for me. Help me!”

  “Katherine!” Derek stood over her, out of breath. “Are you all right?”

  Her feet kicked, one slipper flying off. Clawing at the sky, her hands opened and closed. “They’re coming for me. Please don’t let them take me.” Her gray eyes looked at Derek but didn’t focus.

  “Katherine? What’s wrong? What’re you talking about?” He gave her a quick once-over, checking for broken limbs. “Katherine, are you able to move?”

  Racked with convulsions, she ranted on. “Please, oh, please, don’t let ‘em get me.” Derek whipped open his cell phone and called 911. Sitting on the ground, he cradled a hand beneath her head to protect her. “Katherine, shhh. Help will be here soon.”

  By the time the ambulance arrived, Katherine’s hysterics had calmed to a droning chant. “Don’t let ‘em take me. Don’t let ‘em take me the way they took George and Dot…”

  Derek stood up to make room for the medics.

  “What happened here?” The medic opened his bag next to Katherine. Two others rolled a stretcher through the yard.

  “I’m not sure. I was working upstairs…” Derek hitched a thumb toward his house. “…and I heard something. I came out, and she was turning around in circles, screaming. She fell, and I called you.”

  The medic turned to the others, jutting his chin toward the ambulance. “Let’s get her to the hospital.” They lifted her onto the stretcher.

  “No! They’re taking me. Don’t let them!” Katherine thrashed about. One of the men injected her with a needle and strapped down her arms.

  Derek went to her side, reaching for her hand. Her fingers snaked out, fingernails biting into his skin. “Katherine, the medics are taking you. The medics. They’re here to help.”

  Katherine’s hand slipped down, gripping Derek’s wrist. Struggling, she lifted her head. “Derek, don’t let them get me.” Sudden clarity swam into her eyes. And a deep fear. “Please don’t let them.”

  Derek asked the medic, “Is she going to be okay? What do you think’s wrong with her?”

  The medic cocked an eyebrow. “Happens with old folks alla’ time. Just another day in Barton.” He shrugged, a hint of amusement turning up a corner of his mouth.

  “Yeah. Thanks a lot.” The medic nodded, missing Derek’s sarcasm. Derek watched as they wheeled Katherine, still fighting her restraints, into the ambulance.

  “Derek, don’t let them do this! They got George and Dot and now—” The doors slammed shut, muffling Katherine’s screams.

  The ambulance sped down Pawnee Lane, siren and lights stilled as if the medics had already given up. Derek looked around his neighborhood. Ordinarily, he would’ve expected morbid curiosity—nosy people desperate for a taste of excitement. But the neighborhood remained quiet, hauntingly so, Katherine’s loud frenzy now just a hazy memory.

  Then he saw the woman across the street. Arms folded, she smiled. Not a smile of neighborly concern. As soon as she spotted Derek looking her way, she twisted around. Facing the brick façade of her house, shoulders hunched, she remained still as if on a deathwatch.

  “Bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he reentered his home.

  * * * *

  Before Toni had shed her jacket, Derek met her at the door with a kiss. He wiped his hands on the towel draped around his shoulder for no other reason than it made him feel like a king in the kitchen.

  “Smells good,” she said. “What’re we having?”

  “Almond-encrusted tilapia.” Derek smiled, knowing how much Toni loved seafood.

  She dropped her bag by the front door. Derek instantly scooped it up, part of their nightly ritual. “Has there been any news about Katherine?”

  Derek’s smile faded. “No, nothing. I called Barton Med Center, but all they said was she was stable. I’m sure they’re not telling me everything because I’m not family.”

  Toni sighed. “Don’t be such a negative Nellie. There aren’t conspiracies lurking everywhere.”

  “Suppose not.”

  Toni sniffed then followed her nose down the hallway into the kitchen. The lightly grilled fish and nuts filled the house with an earthy aroma. Toni leaned back against the kitchen counter. “I’m hungry.”

  “It’ll be ready soon.” Derek pulled the green beans out of the microwave, seasoned and stirred them. “You look tired. Rough day?”

  “At least six students failed the exam. Maybe more.”

  “Sorry, hon. But, Professor Willet, ya’ think maybe you’re too tough when it comes to grading sometimes? You’re a pretty harsh critic when I jack up dinner.”

  “By the smell of things, I think you’re going to pass tonight.”

  “Hope so.”

  Toni left the kitchen in search of the mail.

  A year ago, the label company where Derek toiled for twenty-four years as a graphic artist had shuttered their doors, due to mismanagement. Rather than his facing another twenty years at a similarly soulless company full of back-stabbing micro-managers, Derek reassessed their financial situation. Toni made a good living at the university as a history professor. Their financial outlook c
ould be better, but if they pinched pennies, they’d make do. To soften the blow, Derek took on some freelance graphic art work. The pay was minimal, but more importantly to Toni, Derek agreed to prepare dinner every night. To her, the slash in income was well worth it. While their purse dwindled, their marriage and meals flourished.

  Toni reentered the kitchen, thumbing through a stack of bills and catalogs. “I can’t stop thinking about Katherine.”

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  “Did the medics say what was wrong with her?”

  “No. One idiot blew it off as commonplace with old people.”

  “Ageist, much?”

  “Kinda what I thought. But you know, Toni, we’re getting’ up there ourselves.” Derek bent over, pretending to work a pantomimed cane. “Why, I remember back in my day…”

  “Oh, hush.” Toni swatted him. “And get that stupid towel off your shoulder.” She snatched it away with a brisk snap. Derek playfully grabbed for it as they fell into a hug. “Remember when we got married?”

  “How could I forget? The courthouse special.”

  Toni rolled her eyes. “And when I moved in here? How Katherine came over to meet me?”

  “Yeah. She’d brought a tray of macaroons. I didn’t even know what the hell a macaroon was.”

  “Some cook you are.”

  Even though it’d been ten years, Derek remembered the night well. Two days after they’d quietly wed, the doorbell rang. Derek heard animated voices from the front hallway before Toni led Katherine into the family room. Katherine’s hands were full, carrying a silver platter full of caramel-orange macaroons. Slightly hunched over by the tray’s weight, she walked toward Derek, a knowing grin spreading across her face. Without saying a word, she poked the tray underneath his nose, proffering her gift.

  “That was so sweet of her,” said Toni.

  “Yeah. Remember how happy she was for us? After making sure we knew how much damn trouble the macaroons were, she gave us all those hugs. I mean really, really long hugs.”

  Toni laughed. “And she never did divulge her source on who told her we got married.”

  “I know! The world missed out on a top-notch spy, carrying her secrets with her to the grave.” Their laughter died down, the morbidity of his statement lingering over them. “She was such a sweet woman.”

  “She’s not gone yet, Derek.”

  * * * *

  Shortly after nine, someone knocked at their door.

  “I’ll get it, Ton!” Toni was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, unable to hear him over her dental work-out.

  Derek ran down the stairwell, Patch close on his heels. He flipped the light switch and peered out the door window. Dressed in his usual summer attire of T-shirt and jean shorts, Katherine’s son, Kevin, stood on the doorstep. A high school teacher, he spent his summers working on odd jobs around Katherine’s house.

  When Derek reached for the doorknob, Patch growled, his domain threatened.

  “Patch, no! Quiet.” As usual, the dog ignored him. “Get back.”

  From the top of the stairs, Toni ordered, “Here, Patch, now!” Patch turned and trundled up the stairs. To Patch, Derek was an everyday playmate. But when Toni barked, Patch, being no fool, obeyed.

  “Hi, Kevin. How’s your mother doing?” Derek extended his hand.

  Kevin rubbed his neck, staring blankly at Derek’s hand. He appeared tired, disconcerted, his face lined with worry. “Hi, Derek. Hate to just drop by...” He finally accepted Derek’s hand with a weak shake.

  “It’s okay, Kevin. You wanna’ come in?”

  “No, no, that’s okay. I’m sorry to bother you so late.”

  “It’s all right. Is there any news on Katherine?”

  “Well, not really. She’s… The doctors aren’t sure what’s wrong with her exactly. She keeps saying the same things over and over. Crazy stuff. I mean, physically she checks out. At least as far as a woman in her late eighties can. But the doctors just can’t figure it out. Right now, they’re keeping her heavily sedated.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah. Did she say anything, Derek? Before she fell? Did she hit her head?”

  Derek wondered how much he should tell him. Her earlier rants could be construed as the onset of Alzheimer’s. Then again, that’s an uneducated, possibly damning diagnosis. Katherine was one of the few neighbors Derek actually liked. “No, not really. And I don’t think she hit her head. Seemed like she was afraid of the medics taking her away.”

  “She didn’t say anything about someone coming to get her? Or about how someone took George and Dot?” Kevin looked behind him at the red-bricked home where the Carlsons used to live.

  “Well, now that you mention it…I think she did say something like that. But she was distraught. Maybe the heat got to her.”

  “Don’t think so. I don’t know. I’m worried I may have to put her in assisted living—or something—unless she gets better.”

  “That’s rough, Kevin. Please, let me know if there’s anything Toni and I can do. I mean it.”

  “Well, that’s one of the reasons I came over.” He forced a weak smile. “I wanted to thank you for what you did today.”

  Derek slashed his hand through the air. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “No, I sincerely appreciate it. And I hate to keep bothering you, but…” He handed Derek a scrap of paper. “This is my cell number. Could you keep an eye on the house? For a while? I’m not sure when Mom’s coming back. If at all.”

  “Yeah, Kevin. No problem.”

  “And here’s the house key.” He held the key up, the porch light gleaming off its metallic edges. “Don’t think you need to do any lawn work or anything like that. Just keep an eye on the place?”

  “Anything we can do to help. Sure.” Derek pocketed the key.

  Kevin nodded and stared into one of the fir bushes flanking the steps. “Appreciate it.” He turned, practically stumbling down the steps.

  “Kevin, let us know how your mom’s doing. And give her our best, okay?”

  Without turning around, he stuck a hand in the air and waved. “Okay, Derek.”

  Across the street, Derek glimpsed light through one of the red-bricked house windows. The light went dim, curtains waving from the abrupt closure.

  Toni was in bed reading, Patch at the foot of the bed. She looked over the rims of her glasses. “How’s Katherine?”

  “You heard?”

  “Some of it. So, sounds like she’s not doing well if Kevin’s asking you to look in on the house.”

  “Guess so. Kevin’s afraid he might have to put her into a home.”

  “Oh, no.” Toni pulled her glasses off and lowered her book. “Poor Katherine.”

  “Yeah.” Derek sat at the edge of the bed, scratching behind Patch’s ear. “You know, I didn’t tell you this, but some of the things Katherine said today were pretty…odd. She said someone was coming for her. At first, I thought she was talking about the medics. But…I don’t know. And she kept mentioning the Carlsons.”

  “Derek, the Carlsons died of natural causes. Katherine’s getting old. Sad but a true fact of life. Quit looking for dark shadows underneath every beam of sunlight.”

  “Hello. What do you think causes shadows?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Fine. Fine.” Derek whipped off his shirt and shed his shorts by the hamper. Standing in front of Toni, he flexed a muscle. “How would you like to make love to a super model?”

  Toni picked up her book and sniffed. “Sounds great. Let me know when he gets here.”

  Derek dove onto the bed. “Okay, he’s here.”

  “Where? I don’t see him.” Toni narrowed her eyes, peering about the room. “But I suppose you’ll do.” Laughing, she turned off the light.

  * * * *

  Making love with Toni was always exciting, every time a different experience. Usually Derek slept like a baby afterward.

  But tonight, restlessness gnawed away
at him. At two-thirty, he gave up the fight and crawled out of bed. He took the steps slowly, carefully avoiding the groaning ones so as not to wake Toni.

  Sitting in the dark, he parted the blind slats and looked out. The house across the street was still lit up.

  The new neighbors bothered him. Downright rude, they ignored Derek every given opportunity. Toni said to forget about them—they’re not worth expending worry over. Of course, she was right. But there’s more to it than that, much more. The smile on the woman’s face today appeared sadistic, almost as if she had enjoyed Katherine’s trauma.

  The new neighbors made Derek long for the Carlsons, as annoying as they could sometimes be.

  * * * *

  Twenty-six years ago, Derek moved into the house on Pawnee Lane, green behind the ears, yet ready to take the world by storm. His mother, a realtor, sold him the house, foregoing her usual fee. Derek didn’t particularly care what the house looked like, or the neighborhood he’d be living in. Independence was everything, as long as he escaped from underneath his parents’ roof.

  Built in the forties, the gray story-and-a-half house stood solid. Considered a Cape Cod, the floor plan had long been abandoned by today’s architects. Everywhere, that is, except for this particular neighborhood. Other Cape Cods lined the street, interspersed with ranches, the so-called new houses on the block.

  The driveway slanted at an angle, hell to climb in the winter. A long green hedge provided ample privacy from nosy neighbors in the front. Quite by accident (and a trip to the ER later), Derek found out the bushes hosted hidden poison ivy, a painful nature lesson. The bushes came out soon after that.

  A large oak tree sat in the middle of the front yard, towering over the rest of the trees along the block, the trunk thicker than a giant’s wrist. Derek loved the shade it provided in summer, despised the yard work required in the fall. Should the tree ever tumble during one of their notorious Kansas winter storms, the house would be history.

  The neighborhood itself was nice, nestled away from the fast-paced life of inner-city living. Quiet, too. It took Derek a few months to figure out why. No children ever played on the block; none lived there. His neighbors were elderly, their kids fully grown and flown the coop years before.