Page 12 of Lethal Weakness

I’m untouchable because I don’t exist. Not in their databases.

Movement in my neighbor’s window draws me in, threatening to pull me from my shadows. Each night the toes of my boots creep towards the light emanating from her kitchen window.

Intel tells me they aren’t a threat to my operation, not anymore… But I can’t stop watching.

Waiting for another performance.

Seeing a woman dance isn’t something that intrigues me, but watching Linden sing in her kitchen every night and hearing her daughter’s laughter sends dangerous sparks of dopamine into my nervous system. Dangerous because it becomes addictive.

Hiding in the shadows becomes mundane, and your brain craves that next hit.

Unfortunately, mine has found it in the woman next door.

A noise to my left draws my attention, and I look without moving. A car pulls into my neighbor’s driveway, and it’s one I’ve already marked.

Her landlord.

Linden doesn’t hear that she’s about to be interrupted yet, and I watch her visceral reaction when the knock sounds on her front door.

Her posture goes rigid, and she hesitates before succumbing to her duty to answer.

She doesn’t like interruptions.

Or, she doesn’t like him.

I abandon my place in the shadows because now it’s safer for everyone if my presence is known. I walk the edge of my property, trailing my hand over the warped chain link fence that has become a longstanding project.

Something to do when I need a better view.

She is standing in her doorway, talking to the man about his mother across the street.

I’d gathered that Linden is a caretaker of sorts, though none of it is on the books. I’ve made it my business to learn everything I can about the woman next door, but she’s still a mystery. Nothing a deep dive online, or through illegal channels, can explain.

Like why is she living in this rundown house when her in-laws are the richest people in this corner of the state?

I make as much noise as possible as I mess with the fence, so the landlord knows I’m here. Watching.

One flick of his head in my direction is all he needs to offer a quick goodbye. It’s human nature to run from something that could kill you. The body knows, even if the mind doesn’t.

As he gets in the car, I can tell Linden is feeling the same cue to evade me, but she’s trying to be brave, lingering on her front porch.

I’m a danger to her, too.

“Does that fence belong to you? Or me?” She asks suddenly, breaking the veil of silence in the air.

Talking to her could invite more trouble for me, but not talking to her leaves too many questions unanswered. “Mine,” I clip gruffly.

“Oh, right.”

“Does he stop by often?” I ask, knowing damn well I’ve tracked how many times the landlord has shown up the past few weeks. I see everything.

She sighs. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“Tell him to stop.”

“I can’t. He did me a favor by letting me live here. Paying me to look after his mom.”

“You’re still entitled to privacy. It’s past dark.”