The Stranger Next Door Read online

  Chapter Three

  “Could you excuse us a second?” Billy Jo said, still holding the license. She dragged her gaze over to Mark, who appeared tense and quiet. She was beginning to read him so well, his many moods, right down to the way he had to fight the urge to wrap his hands around her neck when she went toe to toe with him and stepped on his male ego—though, to his credit, he had a restraint she hadn’t expected. Then there was the way he became quiet when he was completely rattled and thrown, like now. She reached for his bare arm, feeling the warmth, the strength, and pulled.

  “What are you doing?” he said, but he went along with her, letting her lead him and the dog, whom she grabbed by the collar and shooed into the bedroom, where he jumped onto the unmade bed.

  She glanced back once from the bedroom to Sunday, who was sitting on the sofa, staring at her, saying nothing. “We’ll be right back,” Billy Jo said before closing the door.

  Mark paced, unsettled, and dragged his hand over his face, likely still getting his head around what the very young woman had said. He wasn’t happy she had pulled him out of the room, but the way he always humored her was another point in his favor.

  “Well, I don’t want to talk in front of her, so I’m pulling you aside so we can discuss this,” she said. “Do you see this? She’s just a kid. If this is true, it’s like… Oh my good God, Mark. Two kids? She was just a child, having a baby, two babies.” She had to remind herself to keep her voice down, as she could feel the magnitude of what she was imagining as she stared at the license, the photo. The girl had shown up at Mark’s door and shut down any chance of anything happening between them. Maybe that was why she was so rattled.

  “Illegal, is that what you’re going to say?” He inclined his head, those blue eyes flickering with passion and anger as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle.

  “Yeah. I guess I’m looking for something that explains how illegal this is, but it isn’t. Yet he killed her family? This is so bizarre. I just…”

  He pulled those amazing strong arms over his chest. He wore a faded T-shirt and blue jeans that fit him too well, and his short red hair was unruly. She knew he was dangerous for her, but at the same time, his personality, the way he talked and listened, and even these complications that landed on his doorstep kept reeling her in again and again.

  She knew deep down that Mark had never walked away from the kinds of problem a sane person would. Self-preservation didn’t seem to be something he operated from, and maybe that was why she had to be around him. Good guys apparently did show up, though not as the picture-perfect image she had expected. He was like a drug for her.

  “Look, right now there’s a strange woman—”

  “A girl, a teenager.” She flicked the license she was still holding up to make her point.

  “Fine, a teenager who looks like a woman and who showed up at my door with a story I haven’t even heard the details of yet. I need to figure out whether a crime happened—and, if so, and this is a big if, can I even do something for her? Whether I’m disgusted or not is irrelevant, because unfortunately, this kind of shit happens in our country.”

  His hands were on his hips, and his gaze flickered with an anger she hadn’t seen that often. “Yeah, I’m aware that all the advocacy groups fighting against child brides in shithole countries should start looking right under their noses at home. It’s legal, as sick as it is.”

  He raised his brows, likely because she couldn’t get her tongue to move, couldn’t come up with one argument. Apparently, he knew this part of the law well, as did she.

  “Do you need another minute in here?” he said. “Because I’d like to find out what the hell she wants and if there’s something I can do. Unfortunately, on the child bride thing, there’s zero, but on the murder thing, maybe.”

  He reached for the license and stood beside her, looking down at her, so close as he slid his hand to her hip and around. She could feel how pissed off he was, his passion, and damn, it only made her want him more.

  “I can always tell, you know, when something treads on one of your no-go buttons,” he said. His gaze lingered, and she wanted to run and hide, but his hand was still there, his arm across her. She had to fight the urge not to hold on to him.

  “Fine,” was all she could get out.

  He pulled his hand away, and she was immediately furious, because even now, with a strange woman in his living room, she couldn’t fight that pull toward him, and what bothered her more than anything was how well he could read her. Too well. She heard him pull open the door behind her, and when she turned, he was watching her.

  “You coming?” he said, then dragged his gaze over to Lucky, who was still on the bed, tail wagging in expectation. “And you stay.” He jabbed his finger at the dog.

  Billy Jo followed him out to where Sunday was sitting. She was slender, dressed well.

  He handed her license back to her. “Sorry about that…”

  “You know, your walls are thin. Just FYI, I can hear everything you’re saying, so if you’re trying to save me any embarrassment or save face in trying to get rid of me, don’t bother. It only makes this situation even more awkward. You think I don’t know the statistics, the reality of how child marriage has been culturally accepted in the US? So many say the opposite, that it’s child abuse, but it’s not if a judge signs that piece of paper and weds you to a man who’s old enough to be your father.

  “You think I haven’t looked for ways to get away from my husband? I even thought once, stupidly, that if the authorities only knew then I’d be pulled out, and he’d be in jail, and I’d be free of him. But that reality came crashing down when I called a lawyer one day when he was out only to hear that from 2000 to 2015, over two hundred thousand young girls in the US alone were wed legally to a man over eighteen. In too many states, I can’t even enter a shelter, or divorce him, or leave him at all, because I’m a minor.

  “I was screwed at thirteen, so you think I didn’t look for any loophole to get away? That’s why I sat outside your office for so long, knowing I couldn’t walk in because I’d be seen, and you’re damn right that I’m paranoid it will get back to him. I have a driver’s license now, the only freedom I’ve had since I was forced to marry him, but I can’t even run with my babies because there’s nowhere to hide.”

  Billy Jo dragged her gaze over to Mark, who had pulled his cell phone from his pocket and was typing something in. He said nothing as she stepped over to him, and he held the screen out so she could see the title of the article he’d pulled up.

  “As of July 2021, last month, six states have banned underage marriage with no exceptions. But not here,” he said to Sunday.

  She glanced at the first line of the article and angled her head. The way she looked at Mark, even Billy Jo could see she wasn’t impressed, and all she could think was that for a sixteen-year-old, Sunday was unusually well composed.

  “Sunday, I’m not sure what I can do,” Mark said. “Does he hurt you? You said he killed your family. When, how? You’re looking for help from me—to do what? To get away from him? To leave him? You said there are kids involved. Maybe you can do a wellness check, Billy Jo?” He looked over to her. She knew he was thinking over the options out loud.

  Sunday cut in. “He’s never laid a hand on the babies,” she said.

  Billy Jo flicked her gaze to Mark. “Let’s play devil’s advocate here. Say I did a wellness check. Then there’ll be a report, and let’s be real here. Sunday is only sixteen. The babies would be stuck in foster care. And that’s not even addressing the issue of how I can suddenly get involved.”

  Mark stilled, saying nothing, his mouth open. He glanced up.

  “You know, I can’t be here much longer,” Sunday said. “He’ll wonder where I am since I said I was going to the store.” She looked at her watch, and it wasn’t lost on Billy Jo how calm she was, how this seemed like a game of cat and mouse.

  “You said he killed your family,” Mark said. “Start
there and tell me what happened.”

  Her eyes were dark blue, her slender legs crossed, her hands linked over her knees. The diamond on her finger flickered. It was impressive. Nothing about her hinted at poverty. “Do you think I’m lying?”

  Billy Jo narrowed her gaze. This young girl was playing a dangerous game. “Don’t play coy! You showed up here, remember, at the door, looking for help, but all you’ve done since you walked in here was toss us a crumb. Is this a game for you? How about doing us all a favor and answering the question the chief asked you? Or are you lying about this, telling a story to jerk his chain and stir up trouble?”

  Billy Jo felt Mark drag his gaze over to her, but there was something off about this girl. She couldn’t help thinking this was a game, a lie, something to mess with Mark.

  “I’m not lying about anything,” Sunday said. “My husband, Ash Byrd, is a man people take their problems to. They tell him their problems, and he fixes them, and he’s paid for it. My mom was a problem. When he showed up the first time and told her how it was going to be, he said they could resolve things the easy way or the hard way, but either way, it was going to happen.

  “When my dad came home, she told him. I’d never seen her so scared. I don’t know what she did, but she wouldn’t stop even though I knew she was terrified. Next her tires were slashed, and her brakes were cut, and then the phone would ring and she’d scream at whoever was on the other end to leave her alone. She called the police once, but nothing happened.

  “I asked my mom what that man wanted, what she’d done, and all she kept saying was that she was getting what she was owed. She worked in Hollywood for a producer. I heard her say once that the sharks in Chicago have nothing on Hollywood. She’d been fighting with actors, producers, managers.

  “One day, I went to school. It was a Thursday in June. When I came home, Ash was sitting in my parents’ living room alone. My parents were both gone. He told me that because my mom wouldn’t do as she was told, and because she had gone to my dad and talked when she knew better, he’d had to take care of my dad as well. Then he said he had no choice but to make sure I couldn’t be a problem. That was three years ago.

  “Next, I was standing in a judge’s chamber with him in a sunny California courthouse, thinking it was all a bad dream. But he said this was going to happen. So here I am, sixteen now, legally married to a man who fixes problems for the Hollywood elite. Now can you help me?”

  Billy Jo couldn’t pull her gaze from Sunday. When she finally did, looking over to Mark, she thought this really did sound like a young girl messing around with the new police chief.

  Mark shook his head, making a sound of frustration under his breath as he dragged his gaze from her back to Sunday. “I’m confused. You said he killed your parents, yet you came home and he was in your house, your parents’ house. Did you see him kill them? Where were their bodies? Was there a crime scene?”

  Sunday lifted her purse over her shoulder and stood up, and Billy Jo couldn’t believe she was seeing what seemed like arrogance. “No, there were no bodies, no crime scene. He’s smarter than that, and it wasn’t the first time he’d taken care of a problem. I’m married to the man, so I know that when he takes care of something, it goes away for good. No evidence will be found unless he wants it to. He has people working for him, from former cops to industry experts who understand the game.”

  Mark dragged his hand over his face, and she reached over and touched his arm. He looked right at her.

  She just shook her head and said, “You should look into her parents, at least, see if any missing persons were reported.”

  And then he could call her out on her bullshit story, she thought, though she kept that part to herself. She didn’t quite understand what it was about Sunday that rubbed her the wrong way.

  Mark only groaned, then pulled his hand over his head, something he did when he didn’t have an idea where to start. He didn’t answer Billy Jo, just shook his head as he looked down at Sunday. “You probably already know what I’m going to say.”

  “Yeah, that you can’t help me. No body, no crime, and there’s no way it could be true. I can already tell she doesn’t believe me,” she snapped, gesturing to Billy Jo, which only angered her more. This girl was playing with fire, and it seemed she wasn’t beyond taking a shot at her. “So thanks for nothing,” she continued in a rather snarky tone, then started walking to the door.

  “Wait.” Mark lifted his hand.

  Sunday’s back was to him, her hand on the door, but she turned back and lifted her chin, all attitude. Billy Jo felt she was deliberately thumbing her nose at her. She knew she couldn’t have explained this to anyone, this feeling that there was something so completely off about this girl.

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say,” he said. “I’ll look into it, see what I can find out, and if there is something, I’ll see what I can do. But, one, if he killed your parents in California, it’s out of my jurisdiction, and, two, as far as your marriage is concerned, until the laws are changed, there isn’t a damn thing I can do about that. You live here, and he lives here too. I’ll be in touch.”

  She pulled open the door. “No, please don’t be in touch. I drove out here because he can’t know I was talking to you,” she said. Then she walked out the door.

  Billy Jo took in Lucky, who was staring out at them from the bed, his tail wagging. Mark walked to the open door and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and Billy Jo strode over to him and slid her hand to his back, leaning close to him as they watched the strange young woman walk to her fancy car, the kind Billy Jo would never have tossed money toward. Mark lifted his phone, took a photo of it, and then looked down at her.

  “You believe any of that story?” he said. From the way he was looking at her, she could see the edge of disbelief, and all she could do was shake her head. She’d thought for a moment that he’d believed it hook, line, and sinker.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “A pretty young girl shows up at your door with a crazy story? If it’s true, and I’m not saying it is, but if so, I think you’d better ask yourself just how much you want to stick your nose into this. Because if he is who she says, you don’t have enough resources to investigate this, let alone go after someone like him. Problems you can’t even imagine could very well land on your doorstep, and people could come after you. Or, worse, you could be made to disappear.”

  Chapter Four

  Something about the visit from Sunday Byrd had completely cooled off anything happening between him and Billy Jo. Over a cold dinner, he hadn’t gotten her to admit the parallels between her and Sunday, the many similarities. He’d never seen Billy Jo display the kind of open hostility she had to the young lady who’d knocked on his door. In the end, he’d slept alone with his dog at the foot of the bed.

  Maybe that was one of the reasons he was feeling unsettled, off, and frustrated as he pulled up in front of the station in the early morning before anything else had opened and parked his Jeep beside Carmen’s cruiser, seeing she was already there and the light was on inside. He didn’t know where to begin in unraveling the tale of the girl who’d shown up at his door.

  “Come on,” he said to the dog, who jumped down and out the door. Mark’s hair was still damp, and he held his go-mug of coffee and took a swallow as he stepped up on the sidewalk. He opened the door to find Carmen at her desk, on the phone, gesturing with a pen to his office, where a man he’d never seen before was sitting, having turned the chair to watch him. He had neat short dark hair and was casually dressed, not pulling his gaze from Mark.

  “Bed, go,” he said to Lucky, and the dog went right to his dog bed. Mark walked over to Carmen’s desk as she hung up the phone. “Who is that?” he said.

  She lifted her brows. “Don’t know. He walked in and said you were expecting him. Said you’d know. I sent you a text a second ago before the phone rang.”

  Mark pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at a text sent five minutes earl
ier: Some guy just showed up and is sitting in your office, waiting. Said you’re expecting him.

  Carmen let her gaze linger on him, pissed off, as he glanced over to the man sitting there.

  “You two finished gossiping out there?” the man said. “Come on in here, Mark. We need to have a talk.”

  Carmen’s expression darkened. He didn’t have a clue who the man was, but the way he spoke was unsettling. He heard the squeak of the chair and knew Carmen was on her feet behind him.

  “You want me to get him out of here?” she said.

  He shook his head. “No, I’ll deal with this. Look, I sent you a text, a plate number. I want you to dig up anything you can on it, the registered owner, everything.”

  She was still standing there, her dark hair pulled back, looking at the man who was staring at them. He had to be forty, maybe, his hands linked over his belt, a thick gold ring with some insignia on his finger. He wasn’t smiling.

  Mark didn’t look away as he said to Carmen, “I want to schedule a meeting later this morning with a couple of the possibilities to fill the deputy position and answer the phones here.”

  Then he started walking to his office, digging into each step. “You seem to know me, yet I’m at a loss. Have we met?” he said, standing just inside his office, staring down at the man, who stared right back at him, unflinching, cold. Mark couldn’t remember ever looking into eyes so unfeeling before.

  “Ash Byrd,” the man said. “I can tell by your face that you already know why I’m here. Figured putting a face to the name would help. Join me. Come on in your office and sit down.”

  He had to fight the urge to look back at Carmen. He wanted to tell this guy to get the hell out of his office, but he remembered Billy Jo and her warning to him. He’d thought she was paranoid, but the memory now had him feeling like a fool. He was about to refuse and stand there, but something about this situation wasn’t sitting right. With what he’d heard the night before about this man, he wondered what the hell had shown up in his community and on his island.