Fleeting Glimpse Read online

  FLEETING GLIMPSE

  A FRIGHTENING NOVELLA

  Victoria M. Patton

  Dark Force Press – www.darkforcepress.com

  Copyright © 2020 by Victoria M. Patton

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Dark Force Press

  City of Publication: Piedmont, OK

  www.darkforcepress.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout © 2016 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Fleeting Glimpse/ Victoria M. Patton. -- 1st ed.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-946934-21-5

  ISBN 10: 1-946934-21-6

  Editor: Judith Bixby Boling

  Tony, your title and idea spawned my creativity. Thank you!

  Thank you to my fabulous beta readers. You make my books kickass.

  Thank you to my editor, Judith Boling. You put up with all my stupid commas.

  Other books by Victoria M. Patton

  Damien Kaine Series

  Innocence Taken

  Confession of Sin

  Fatal Dominion

  Web of Malice

  Blind Vengeance

  Series bundle books 1-3

  Derek Reed Thrillers

  The Box

  Short Stories

  Deadfall

  Author’s Note

  Stalking is a real and scary issue for many women and men.

  If someone tells you they think they are being stalked, in any form, please listen.

  If you feel you are being stalked or threaten, tell someone.

  Make a report to the police.

  Don’t try to stop it on your own, and don’t think you are crazy.

  Report it. Get help.

  Listen to that inner voice telling you something isn’t right.

  It could save your life.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  Monday evening

  Using my tools, I turn the deadbolt on the side door. I leave the sack containing the dead animal on the ground. I can retrieve it on my way out. As I move through the empty garage, I don’t need to use my penlight. I’ve been here so many times, I know my way around. Turning the knob on the door to the mudroom, I’m surprised it’s locked. It doesn’t take much effort to pick this one.

  I can smell her perfume the minute I enter her home. Closing my eyes, I bask in the aroma. Vanilla and a hint of orange fill my nostrils. Soon I’ll smell it on her skin. Theo rubs against my leg, purring and head butting me. I squat, picking him up. “You’re getting a little chubby. I think she’s been over feeding you since the last time I saw you.”

  He purrs, rubbing his cheek against my chin, and pawing at my face.

  It’s surprising how fond I am of him. I usually keep my distance; this is business, after all. Setting the big cat on the floor, I watch him scamper away. “Don’t get attached. She’s a victim. One that has gotten too much of your attention already.” I can’t allow myself to be distracted. Distractions lead to mistakes.

  As I enter the kitchen, not a thing is out of place. The moonlight through the big glass doors makes it just bright enough to see. Walking down the hallway, I stop at the spare bedroom. Not sure why she even has one. She never has any one over.

  The glow of a nightlight brings me to her office. A simple wood desk faces the window. I can see the bird feeder strategically placed, enabling her to watch while she works. No doubt a distraction when her creativity fails. I pick up the picture of her mother, and move it to the opposite side of the desk.

  Heading back to the kitchen, I pause at the glass door, looking at her back porch. The backdrop of trees makes the perfect view. The light fog forming will give me the perfect cover for tonight.

  Theo sits next to his empty bowl, eyeing me as I stand in front of the refrigerator. Reading one of the many scraps of paper covering its surface, I open the door. I’m not sure if this is a place to store food or a giant note board. Some fruit, a container of cottage cheese, several bottles of water, and two bottles of wine fill the otherwise sparse shelves. Shrugging, I look over at Theo. “Maybe she didn’t want it to spoil. What do you think?”

  He meows, looking at his empty bowl then back at me.

  “Did you eat all the food, or did she not leave you enough?” The pudgy creature spins in circles. “I bet two days seems like a lifetime to you.” Grabbing his bag of kibbles from the cabinet, I fill his bowl halfway. “There. I wouldn’t want your mom to come home and think you suffered.” One last look around to make sure nothing will give my visit away. “I’ll see you soon, Theo.” I smile, leaving the door unlocked.

  I flip on the overhead light as I slip out the side door. I can’t help myself. I know her habits. This, the unlocked mudroom door, and the photo will drive her crazy. Locking the doorknob, I pull it shut, then use my tools to re-lock the deadbolt. I look down at the small bag. Picking it up, I chuckle. “I hope you like your surprise, Chandra.” Opening the lid of the trash bin, I take the rotting animal and lay it on the top of a trash bag, stuffing the bag that carried it down into the bin. Closing the lid, I make my way to the backyard.

  Walking across the grass, I don’t have to worry about motion sensors or flood lights. She doesn’t have any. No alarm either. I move to the edge of the property line on the far-right side. No fencing makes this too easy.

  Waiting at the corner of the house, I use the low-hanging branches of a tree to camouflage myself. I look over my shoulder. The residents to my right would have to come out and walk to the edge of their driveway before they would be able to see me. Confident in my hiding spot, I focus on the lane.

  The late September air is crisp, and the jacket I’m wearing is almost too light. The light fog makes the air feel damp. I didn’t realize the temperature would drop this much today. I swallow hard, pinching my lips together. Bouncing on my toes, my stomach flutters at the oncoming headlights. My fingers tingle. I clench my fists and quickly release them, dissipating the pent-up energy. An electric like pulse surges through me as I wait for her arrival. “Hurry,” I whisper. My teeth chatter. I feel as if I’m moments away from exploding and send
ing my body parts flying.

  A wide grin stretches across my face as she pulls into her driveway. I need to take cover along the thicket of trees in the back. First, I want to see her face. I need to see her face. My insides vibrate, making my skin itch.

  Her neighbor exits his home, drawing my attention towards him. I’ve seen him speak to her. Although I’m never close enough to hear the conversations. Her crossed arms and constant frown during their interactions clearly indicate she doesn’t like Mr. William Franks. I squeeze my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms. He’s distracting her. My nostrils flare. “Go home.” A low growl rumbles in my throat.

  Her focus shifts between her garage and Mr. Franks. I can barely see her wrinkled brow as she looks in my direction. She taps her steering wheel, glancing over her shoulder towards her neighbor.

  She looks my way one last time, before pulling into her garage. Her brow draws together as she searches the area where I’m standing. I suck in a breath, retreating, stepping back behind the cover of the brick wall. I don’t think she sees me. Cursing under my breath, I lean forward and peek around the edge. I could explain my presence away by making the excuse of going for a late evening stroll. But I would rather not give myself away.

  I hiss out a breath, watching the tail end of her car pull into the garage. The door closes as Mr. Franks reaches the edge of her lawn. I bite my bottom lip to hide my snicker as I turn to head towards the backyard.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Inching up to the entrance of her neighborhood, the sensor reads the sticker on Chandra’s windshield. The massive gate lumbers open. A guard waves her through without a glance. Calm washes over her, alleviating the achiness in her chest. More and more, she struggles with leaving the security of her home. She finds her anxiety and fear mounting due to the endless stream of interviews, appearances, and book signings.

  You don’t have any right to complain, Chandra.

  Her late mother’s words echo in her head. “I know, Mother.” She chastises herself. Exhaling, she blows out the guilt. She lives a great life. Nothing to complain about. When she turned in that first story to her now agent, Jane, Chandra had no idea how much her life would change.

  She takes in the neighborhood as she drives to her home. Her writing career took off way faster than she or her publishing company, Baker and Son, thought it would. And although she loves creating stories that everyone reads, she is in a constant battle with how much of her private life she has to give up.

  If she had her way, she would rather stay at home, write her books, and never talk to strangers again. Her reclusive, introvert personality gets in the way of her public life. “Too late now to change anything, or leave.” Her publishing company owns her life, and her agent would shoot her before she let her walk away.

  Driving down her lane, a smile creeps across her face. She shimmies in her seat when her house comes into view. “I’m so glad to be home.” On the road for two days, Chandra’s excitement bubbles over. At 3,800 square feet, her house is on the smaller side. More like a bungalow than the mini-mansions in this community.

  Chandra shakes her head as she passes Mr. Franks. “I bet he’s going to water his bushes again.” Exhaling a sharp deep breath, she waves at him; giving him a half-smile. “What a pompous ass,” she says, rolling her eyes. Tapping the remote control on her visor, she watches the garage door crawl open. Over her shoulder she can see Mr. Franks making his way towards her.

  “Let’s go.” Chandra taps the steering wheel, mentally willing the door to raise faster. Peering out her side window, she returns her attention to the garage. She grips the wheel so tight, the veins in her forearms bulge. Another quick glance to her right, and she can see Mr. Franks is almost at her lawn.

  The hair on her arms stand on end. Her gaze is drawn towards the left side of her house. “What is that?” She squints in the direction of the movement. The drooping limbs of the trees and the light fog make it impossible for her to make anything out.

  Frowning she turns back to her garage door. She blows out the burning air from her lungs as the door slowly opens. The glaring overhead lights illuminate her usually dark garage. “Why is my light on? I shut it off.” She can feel her face tighten as her brow wrinkles.

  A second movement at the corner of her house catches her eye. Her grip tightens on the steering wheel. Searching, she finds nothing but swaying branches. She chalks it all up to the wind. “Crap,” she says, realizing Mr. Franks is steps away from her driveway. The last thing she wants to hear is his opinion of her latest novel.

  She guns her motor, lurching forward. Shaking her fist in triumph, she laughs. “Ha,” she squeals in delight. “Not this time, William.” Rolling in faster than she needed, the windshield hits the tennis ball hanging from the ceiling a little too hard. The ball swings violently, crashing into the glass, bouncing upward. Before she’s even parked, Chandra lowers the garage door.

  The victorious moment is short lived. The thudding from the ball echoes in the silent garage. Squinting, she stares at the lights. Her mind races and her breathing is shallow. “I turned those off. I know I did.” She thinks back to Saturday when she left, replaying her departure in her head. “I fed Theodore, grabbed my purse, my bags, turned on the garage light, opened the door….” She rubs her forehead. “I’m positive I turned off the light before leaving.”

  Her heart pounds out a beat in her ears. Her stomach churns as her chest tightens, making it hard to catch her breath. What if someone got in my house? She lays her head against the wheel. “Stop, Chandra. No one got into your damn house.”

  Jumping when her phone blares through the Bluetooth, she clutches her chest. She taps the call button. “Hello?” she says, lifting it from the cradle, shifting the call from the speakers to the handset.

  “Chandra, it’s Adam.”

  “Hey, Adam. What can I do for you?”

  “Are you okay? You sound weird.”

  “I’m fine. Just got home and was pulling into my garage. What do you need?” She hears drawers opening and paper shuffling. “Are you at the office?” Picking up her purse and briefcase from the passenger seat, she gets out and retrieves her small suitcase from the back. Before heading into her house, she glances at the side door, making sure she indeed locked it.

  “Yes, I’m still at the office. Jane had a late evening meeting with Corey Richards. Her new acquisition. He’s in California and wasn’t available until tonight. Listen, your book signing, the one here in town on Wednesday, the bookstore owner asked if you could come earlier and do a special meet and greet.”

  Chandra’s shoulders sag as she leans her head back. Squeezing her eyes shut, she waits a minute before responding.

  “Chandra? Hello?”

  “Yeah, Adam. I’m sure I don’t have a choice. That’s fine.” She sighs. “I’m sorry. I know it isn’t your fault, but I thought these things were supposed to be prearranged. It’s kind of late notice for a book signing.” Balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder, she uses her key to unlock the mudroom door. Realizing the door is unlocked, she grunts. “What the heck?” She steps over the threshold.

  “Chandra, what’s wrong?”

  She sighs in exasperation. Dropping her briefcase on the floor and rolling her suitcase out of the way, Chandra turns the lock on the doorknob. “I don’t know, Adam. My door is unlocked.” Twisting the lock on the knob, she double checks making sure it’s secure before closing the door and locking the deadbolt.

  “Did you leave it unlocked?”

  “No. I never leave my door unlocked. Or my garage lights on for that matter.”

  “Uh, okay. Chandra, you’re sounding kind of frazzled. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just tired.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Chandra pinches her lips together to keep from saying anything. Every time she tries to tell Jane or Adam about the weird things happening, they blow her off, tell
ing her it’s just her imagination, or her shyness.

  She knows her shyness is an issue. But she knows the difference between being uncomfortable around people and the sensation of being watched, or the feeling someone has been in her home. But she also doesn’t want to sound crazy. Not a good look for a bestselling author whose publishing house is planning a big tour.

  Bringing her to the other reason she keeps her mouth shut. She doesn’t want to be seen as trying to get out her upcoming book tour. She’s been paid a handsome fee for her books. Chandra knew there would be things she had to do in return. “It’s nothing. What do you need?” Carrying her purse into the kitchen, she places it on the table. Slipping out of her shoes, she grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge.

  “Meooow!”

  “Aww, hi, sweetie.” Holding her phone in her hand, she sets the bottle on the counter, and scoops up Theodore, a long-haired Norwegian mix. She grunts as she lifts him, staring at the long whiskers on his face. “Theo, they say a cat’s whiskers grow in proportion to the width of the cat. How long do you think yours are going to grow, huh?”

  Theodore narrows his eyes at her, scowling.

  She sniffs his fur. “You smell good. You’ve been into something.” Giggling at his expression, she checks the large bowl of dry food she left out. “I see you didn’t eat it all. I guess you didn’t starve to death.”

  “Uh, excuse me?”

  Laughing at Adam’s response, she grabs a can of cat food from the cupboard. “I was talking to my cat.”

  Theodore wiggles in excitement, trying to leap from her grasp.

  “Okay, calm down. Adam, give me a few minutes.”

  “Sure,” he says.

  She sets the phone on the counter.

  Theo jumps from her arms spinning in circles waiting for his food.