Guardian by Kaitlyn O'Connor (digital book reader .TXT) 📕

Guardian

By

Kaitlyn O’Connor

Copyright ( c ) MadrisDePasture writing as Kaitlyn O’Connor February 2021

Cover Art by JennyDixon

SmashwordsEdition

New ConceptsPublishing

Lake Park, GA31636

www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters,events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to beconfused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events ismerely coincidence.

Chapter One

Marilyn had chewed the fledgling nailsoff of three fingers and started on the fourth before thereceptionist called her, directing her to the office belonging tothe detective she’d been assigned to speak to. She jumped guiltilywhen the cop behind the desk barked her name and tore a cuticle.Ignoring the pain, she bounded out of her seat and dropped herpurse on the floor. It took her ten minutes to scoop up thecollection it held; receipts, pens, pencils, her wallet, tissues, acouple of screws, the leftovers from her lunch, half a candy barfrom snack break, and store coupons—hair brush, lip balm and hairtie.

A roach crawled out, as well, and shehurriedly stomped it with her shoe and flicked it under the chairshe’d been sitting in.

She was going to have a ‘word’ withher landlord, she thought, angry and embarrassed and wondering whomight have noticed.

She was already thoroughly rattled andshe hadn’t even talked to anybody! Her cheeks were cherry red whenshe straightened at last and moved to the door. It was locked andthat flustered her more.

Absolutely nothing wasgoing the way she’d envisioned it in her mind when she’d decided itwas her civic duty to report the strange goings on in her apartmentbuilding, specifically the very odd behavior of one of the tenantson her floor. But the longer she’d sat waiting, the less convincedshe was that she actually wasdoing the right thing.

She’d reached the point, in fact,where she had almost convinced herself to get up and leave withoutsaying anything at all, except she wasn’t sure they’d just let herwalk out when she’d already asked to talk to a detective. “Uh … I’msorry … uh … which door?”

He buzzed it to let her in and shehurriedly grabbed the pull to stop the buzzing, snatching itopen.

She paused again when she’d enteredthe hallway behind it. “Uh … I’m sorry. What’s the detective’s…?”

“Dilliard.”

Nodding a little jerkily, beginning todeeply regret the impulse that had prompted her visit to the localpolice station, she headed down the hallway, checking the doors asshe passed—shoulders hunched, elbows clamped at her waist, herpurse secured on her crossed arms.

Every room was filled with busypeople, or at least people trying to look busy whether they were ornot. The noise level was … uncomfortable.

But then again, her own workplace wasas quiet as a tomb.

The door was standing ajar when shereached the detective’s office. She paused and rapped her knuckleson the door molding.

A stout man of indeterminate yearsturned his head, frowning at her. “Ms. …uh … Carter?” he inquiredafter he’d found a piece of paper and read it.

His chair squawked as he pushed itback and stood up. It was a rolling chair so it was either the ageof the chair or the weight of the man that suggested it might fallapart at any time.

Marilyn tripped over something as shesurged forward.

She paused and scanned the floor alittle distractedly.

She had to suppose it was the‘invisible’ bump she kept tripping over for the floor lookedperfectly smooth.

Or her shoe had ‘grabbed’ just to makeher look clumsy and stupid.

“Have a seat,” the mansaid, pointing to a straight backed chair squeezed between thefront of his desk and the wall. “What can I help you with today, Ms… uh ….” He paused, rifling through the papers on his desk.“Carter?”

He couldn’t remember a name thatsimple? Or he was just trying to make her feelinconsequential?

Marilyn perched on the edge of thechair, miserably uncomfortable now that she was faced with theactuality of the meeting she had envisioned. It didn’t feel‘right’. She didn’t feel righteous. Faced with his cool, impersonalpoliteness and what felt like a complete lack of interest in thebusiness that had brought her, the urge to flee churned in herbelly and made her hands and feet cold and clammy withnerves.

What if this ruined thepoor man’s life and he hadn’t done anything at all? What if hejust seemed suspicious to her because he was a little strange? “I … uh …Well. You know they say if you see something, say something?” shefinished in a rush.

Something flickered in his beady eyes.“You witnessed something?” he asked sharply.

Marilyn forced a nervous laugh,struggling with her fluctuating color. “Oh … om … not anythingspecific. I just thought ….”

Now she could see skepticism in theman’s expression. He sat back and dragged out a note pad and a pen.“Let me just get a little information from you. Fullname?”

Marilyn blinked at him, wonderinguneasily why he needed her name. She wasn’t reporting herself!“Marilyn Elizabeth Carter,” she said finally.

“And this report is aboutsomething you saw?”

Dismay flickered through Marilyn, butshe felt compelled, now, to answer the best she could—and also tothrow in a caveat to absolve herself of guilt and make her neighborlook innocent or at least less guilty than she’d thought he was. “Ididn’t actually see anything. That’s why I came here—because Ithought he might be up to something and that y’all would want tocheck it out. It’s my neighbor. Well, one of my neighbors. I livein an apartment building. And, actually he’s just on the same floorso I don’t know if you’d really call that a neighbor.”

The detective stared at her, tappinghis pen. “So … you saw your neighbor doing something?”

“Oh it was nothing likethat.”

He tilted his head. “What was it likethen, Ms. Carter?”

There was just a touch of impatiencein his voice now.

The urge to leap to her feet and runassailed, Marilyn. She didn’t because she was afraid they wouldchase her—like a dog was prone to if you were stupid enough torun—and she was pretty sure her legs wouldn’t hold out if she waschased.

She clutched her purse a littletighter, struggling. She thought she had rehearsed it all in hermind so that she could tell it in a clear and concise and