The Enemy Inside (The Captive Series Book 1) by Marshall Penelope

Author:Marshall, Penelope [Marshall, Penelope]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Limitless Publishing LLC
Published: 2016-12-06T05:00:00+00:00

Mrs. Harvish

Zander

I stepped back, looking at her angelic face, noting the vulnerabilities she wore like a shield. I wanted her, unlike any woman I’d ever met. She made me crazy and happy all at the same time, reminding me of my mother and father’s forty-seven years of marriage. I had always hoped for what they had, but never thought it possible.

It’s funny what one day could change. Yesterday I was alone, with only myself to worry about, and today I found someone who changed everything I thought I wanted in life. One day―one little day.

She opened her eyes. “Goodnight, Zander.”

My hand fell to my side as she sheepishly moved away from me. I turned and walked back to the bed, stopping at the window to look out into the night sky.

“It’s so beautiful here. So calm. Not like war.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No. I live. I don’t wanna talk about it,” I said as I looked up and down the street, observing the drawn living room curtain across the street.

She came to stand next to me by the window, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Hey, why do you always stare at Mrs. Harvish’s window? It’s kinda creepy.”

“Before I took this job, I read up on all the surveillance notes that Adam had written in the reports. He mentioned the old lady that lives in that house had tea every day at noon, and her curtains were always open.”

“He wrote all that?”

“We write everything.”

“What does ‘everything’ mean?” She looked worried.

I smiled. “Why, did you do something you’re ashamed of?”

Her eyes widened. “What? No.”

I chuckled and turned back to the window. “So that woman, Mrs. Harvish, you say? Have you seen her lately?”

She looked through the window to the old woman’s house. “No, I haven’t. Actually, he was right. She never draws her curtains.”

“You don’t think it’s weird that, all of a sudden, she draws her curtains and you never see her again?”

“Well, she is an old woman—do you suppose she could have died?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” I said as I pulled my phone out.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling the police.”

She pulled the phone from my hands. “No. Not again. I won’t go through that again.”

“So you would rather leave her there? What if she’s fallen?” I looked at her, holding my hand out for my phone.

She looked at me, then out of the window to Mrs. Harvish’s house. After a moment she dropped the phone back in my hand. “Fine. But you deal with them when they come.”

“You’re such a saint,” I said sarcastically.

“Whatever, I can’t do another round with them,” she said, walking to the door.

I dialed 9-1-1.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a woman’s voice filtered through the phone.

“Yes, I would like a police officer to check my neighbor’s home. There is an elderly woman who lives there, and we haven’t seen her in a while.”

“And the address, sir?”

“1010 Kensington.”

“We have an officer en route. Would you like me to stay on the phone, sir?”

“No thank you. I’ll be waiting outside.

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