Secrets We Hide: The Watcher, #2

1

The Watcher

Hiding in safety

Last time I made too many mistakes, that much is clear. Now Shane and Fleur are living under the same roof—the exact opposite outcome from what I’d intended. Now it’s going to be that much harder to accomplish my goals.

I need to break them apart in such a horrific way that they will never want to see each other again. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but it may not be avoidable.

What other choice do I have? They’ve backed me into a corner. This was not supposed to happen.

Shane never should have come back into the picture. But here we are, and now I have my work cut out for me. It doesn’t help that Alpha and Omega have me running errands for them. That, in addition to other new issues in my life, makes it even harder to find time to deal with Shane and Fleur.

I’ll make time. This can’t be ignored.

It drives me crazy how those two don’t let anything get in their way. That stupid minivan still sits in the driveway with slashed tires—thanks to yours truly—yet Fleur isn’t stuck at home. She gets around by calling for a ride on one of those apps designed for people without cars.

They did get rid of the paint. I’m not sure when because it happened when I had my back turned. Probably when Alpha and Omega had me running one of their annoying errands. But what else can I do? If I want to take over the church one day—and I do—then I need to stay on their good side.

I’m one of their favorites, and I need to change that to being their only favorite.

All of this is spreading me thin. I thought Fleur would be at my side by this point.

Shane. He needs to go down. That’s going to be harder than it sounds, because everyone is so intrigued by him now. The idiot has convinced the whole world he didn’t kill his wife and had been tortured for the last two years.

Granted, it’s all true. But people shouldn’t believe him.

It’s always the husband. Always.

Apparently this time he’s the hero. He’s giving exclusive interview rights to his new girlfriend—which nobody finds remotely suspicious—and even that has garnered him more attention and praise. Reporters park themselves in front of the house, eager to get him to answer even one question.

The whole world is literally these two. The grieving widower and the podcaster who cleared his name and was so generous to share her house with him.

Generous! That would be laughable, except it isn’t funny at all.

I’m going to have to do something extreme this time around. Can’t leave anything to chance.

Nothing.

Whatever I do needs to be both dangerous and attention grabbing. Something that can’t be ignored. It might upset Alpha and Omega, but that’s a risk I have to take.

This is going to be my main focus. It’s the one thing that matters.

Once Fleur is by my side, we can take over the world.

I may have to burn down this whole town first. That might be for the best. We can rise from the ashes together and start over if we have to.

There’s only one way for this to end—with Shane dead and Fleur with me.

Nothing will stop me. Nobody will get in my way.

I don’t care who I have to hurt in the process.

People will get hurt. That’s unavoidable in order for me to get what I want. And I always get what I want.

One way or another.

2

Fleur

Wednesday, mid-morning

Isip my coffee as Zorro runs circles around the front yard. Despite the rain and cold wind throwing wet leaves all over, my energetic pup can’t get enough of the outdoors.

He isn’t the only one. I love the crisp wind, the fresh air. But I can feel somebody watching me. I don’t see anyone, yet I sense I’m the object of someone’s focus. Whether it’s a curious neighbor or a nefarious stranger, I can’t say. Now that Shane has moved back in, my house has even more attention than when it was thought to be a murder house.

Now everyone knows that nobody was killed here. Emmett Wycliffe took Caroline Porter’s life at his own house and then left her body here to frame Shane, who he was torturing in the same room where he killed Caroline.

Emmett’s on the run. It’s been four days, and no one has seen him. Not a single sighting.

It makes me think he could be the one watching me, but he wouldn’t be so bold as to return. Would he? Not with so much focus on this place. There aren’t any reporters out front at the moment, but it’s only a matter of time until one returns.

I think they’ve gotten bored waiting for Shane to emerge. Hopefully they’ll give up altogether.

He spent a couple days in the hospital under observation while getting hydrated and fed. They wouldn’t tell me much since I’m not family, but I visited him as often as I could and now I’m taking care of him here.

The wind picks up, and I call Zorro over before taking one last look around for anyone who might be watching. I can’t see anyone. Maybe it’s just my imagination. I can’t blame myself for being jumpy after everything I’ve been through.

My pup runs over and shakes all the rain off him and onto me.

I try to block myself, but it’s pointless. Once he’s done, I open the door and we head into the warm, dry house. Zorro runs to his water bowl for a drink, and I make my way back to the bedroom after taking off my favorite red coat.

Shane is propped up with pillows, looking at his new phone. He can’t get enough of it after missing two years’ worth of news and events.

I sit next to him.

When he wraps an arm around me, he winces.

You have to be careful.

He scoots up a little. I’m fine.

Says the guy with his ribs bandaged. I tousle his hair and get lost in his eyes—after so long, I can’t get enough of them.

Nothing’s broken. Just bruised. He winces again.

I lift an eyebrow.

Zorro jumps on the bed and curls up next to Shane. As soon as they met, they became instant besties.

Ding-dong!

Shane’s brows furrow. If that’s another reporter⁠—

I’ll check. You rest.

He leans forward. Let me deal with them. They won’t return after I’m done talking to them.

It’s probably just Mia. She mentioned wanting to stop by with a gift. I’m sure it’s just her.

Mia? His eyes widen.

Don’t look so surprised—we’re friends, remember? Apparently Caroline and I have more in common than just the same taste in men. We pick the same friends, too. I lean over and give him a quick kiss.

Tell Mia I say hello but don’t have the energy to visit. He leans back and closes his eyes.

Good. I’m glad to see you resting. Remember that when the reporters show up. I hurry to the front door before the doorbell can disturb him again. He has two years’ worth of rest to catch up on, and all he can think about is hunting down Emmett.

When I peek outside, Darby stands on the porch holding a rectangular serving dish covered in foil.

I open the door, and she gives me a wide smile. How are you and the patient?

Shane wants to get up and run around as if he isn’t recovering from two years of being beaten and starved.

Darby winces. I can’t believe he was right there the entire time. Troy and I feel like we should’ve known. I mean, Emmett lives right next to us. How did we not suspect anything?

I take the toasty casserole and motion for her to follow me inside. Shane thinks the room is soundproof. You probably could’ve been inside the house and not known.

She closes the door. Even so, there must’ve been signs we missed.

You can’t blame yourself. I went out to lunch with Emmett and had no clue. He didn’t want anyone knowing, and he was careful. I set the food on the stove to cool.

We’ve been watching the house and checking our doorbell camera. If he returns, we’ll be the first to know.

I have a feeling he’s going to stay far away. He admitted to killing Caroline, so he’d know coming back is risky. He has to know people are looking for him.

Darby steps closer and whispers, The police aren’t.

What? I exclaim. When they took my statement, they said it would be their top priority.

You didn’t hear it from me, but they lied.

I’m disappointed, but can’t say I’m surprised. Where did you hear that?

She inches even closer. People at church are talking.

If I never have to hear about the Beacon of Truth Fellowship again, it will be too soon. However, I have a feeling I’m only going to have to deal with them all the more in light of all this.

It doesn’t help matters that I brought attention to them on my podcast. I didn’t come out and name them, but everyone here knows exactly who I was talking about.

I can only hope their reach doesn’t extend to cops at the state level or the FBI, should they get involved. In most cases, I wouldn’t assume that to be even a possibility. But with this group, anything is possible.

Darby is still looking at me, clearly expecting a response.

There are other agencies that can take over. I’m not worried about it.

Her mouth gapes. You really think so?

Of course. This isn’t the nineteen-fifties. Or even the nineties, when it was so much easier for the good ol’ boys clubs to run things the way they wanted and get away with it.

Well, that’s sure a relief. She glances at her fitness watch. I should get going. Troy can only take a short break from work to watch the girls. Do you or Shane need anything else?

Other than new tires? I don’t think so. Thanks so much for bringing over the casserole. We’ll eat that up in no time. He’s already starting to regain some weight.

Darby smiles. That’s great to hear. I can’t imagine what he’s been through—right next to us. Her face turns a little green. I can’t believe I never suspected Emmett of being up to something. He just always seemed like a normal guy.

He uses his friendly smile to his advantage.

That’s for sure. I’m just glad I never took him up on his offer to watch the girls.

I bristle. He wanted to babysit your daughters?

He said he was there if we needed him, that he wanted to be a good neighbor. It didn’t seem odd at the time, but now… She shudders.

No kidding. He kept trying to get in here, but I wouldn’t let him.

That’s a relief. She glances at the time again. I should get back, but we’d love to have you two over for dinner. Give me a call and tell me when Shane’s up for it. We’ll set up a date.

I resist the urge to ask if Troy will be as off-putting with Shane as with me. Sounds like fun. We’ll definitely take you up on that.

Great. I’m so glad Shane’s okay and it worked out for both of you to stay here. She squeezes my arm before heading for the door.

We say goodbye, then I return to the bedroom to see how Shane’s doing.

He’s digging through the closet.

You’re supposed to be resting.

You know me. Can’t sit still. He steps back and gives me a sheepish expression. Why haven’t you put your stuff in here?

It’s weird being in a room you shared with someone else. I couldn’t even come in here until I replaced the bed.

I noticed that was new. Why update that and nothing else?

Before finding you, I’d only been here a week.

He nods. Was that Mia at the door?

Darby. She brought food and said they wanted to have us over for dinner when you’re feeling up to it.

With Troy? His expression is unreadable, though he seems off kilter. Not that I blame him—Troy is an odd guy.

I would assume, since they’re married.

Shane rubs his side. I’m sure we can work something out. My main concern is finding Emmett.

Forget about him while you recover.

His brows furrow. I can’t do that. Not after everything he’s done.

I didn’t say never think about him again. Just take some time for yourself.

Not happening. He steps back into the closet.

3

Fleur

Wednesday, late morning

Zorro tugs on the leash as we make our way down the street. After it became clear Shane had no other interest than going through the bedroom closet, I decided to go for a walk through the neighborhood.

Thankfully there still weren’t any reporters out front—hopefully they’ve all gotten bored enough to stay away. It’s doubtful, but I can dream.

I make my way to Darby’s street. Also Emmett’s street. I stop in front of his house and stare.

Shane was in there the whole time. I went out for lunch with Emmett, and he knew where Shane was while acting like it was all a big mystery. He also killed Caroline.

What else is he hiding?

I’d expect police tape blocking his door, but the house looks untouched. That can’t be.

This is the real murder house. Not mine—it’s only where Emmett put her to frame Shane. So, this place should be crime central.

Except Darby told me the investigation had been shut down. Maybe never even started.

If the local police won’t look into this, there has to be a way to get another department to come in and take over. The state police. The FBI. Somebody. Emmett killed a woman then held a man hostage for two years. There’s no way a cult can cover up all that.

It was one thing to claim Caroline’s murder case had gone cold, but now it’s practically in a furnace. We have a confession—for all that’s worth since it wasn’t given under legal means and I didn’t get a recording of it—but I’ve told the police and talked about it on my podcast.

People won’t ignore this now. A confessed killer is on the loose.

Zorro whines, obviously wanting to continue walking. I could stare at Emmett’s house forever. Some authorities really should be in there tearing the place apart.

I need to look into it. Nudge the higher ups. They might not even be aware the local police aren’t doing anything. It’s likely they already offered their assistance and had been refused. Unfortunately, real life isn’t like the movies—the FBI can’t barge in and take over the case. They offer their resources and assist in the process.

That would certainly move things along faster.

Zorro paws at my leg, and I relent. Standing here isn’t getting me anywhere. If I want to draw more attention to this, I need to put out another podcast episode and get people riled up. Some of my listeners are already talking about starting an online petition. I doubt that’ll hold much weight, but it’s hard to say what will catch the attention of someone who can actually do something.

I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the house with no police activity or