Hidden Obsession
By
Missy Johnson
Copyright© 2015 Missy Johnson
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Printing: Feb 2015
Chapter One
“Shit,” I mumble as I realize the front door isn’t locked. He’s been here again. Every instinct tells me not to go inside, to call the cops and wait for them to arrive, but it’s minus five degrees and I’m freezing my ass off. Besides, he hasn’t stuck around the other dozen times he’s broken into my house—why would he start now?
Just in case, I call 911 as I’m walking inside.
“Hello?” I call out. I’m greeted by silence, which isn’t surprising. You’re not exactly going to announce your presence if you’ve broken into someone’s house, are you?
“Miss?”
The voice on the phone makes me jump. I put it to my ear and report the intrusion. I roll my eyes as I’m told not to touch anything until the police arrive. As if I haven’t been through all this before. They probably have my photo on their wall at the precinct, they’re here that often.
I throw my purse down onto the counter and go in search of a sweater. Walking into my bedroom, I stop dead in my tracks when I see my bed.
“Oh, eww, that so better not be what it looks like.” But I know it is. The sticky white substance can only be one thing. I cover my mouth and grab my jacket, then turn and bolt out of the room, crashing into a wall of muscle. My fighting instincts kick in and I attempt to knee him in the balls.
He chuckles, turning me around and pressing me against his body. “The assailant would want to be glad he was gone when you got home,” he laughs.
I blush, realizing he’s a plain-clothes detective.
“Do you have some identification?” I ask, my voice cold. “Excuse me for not being too trusting at the moment.”
He flips open his badge and I examine it until I can no longer deny how close I came to assaulting a detective.
“Did he take anything? Any damage?” he asks, walking around the living room.
“Just the little party he had in my bedroom,” I mutter, rubbing my head. “It’s the same as usual, detective. This is about the fourteenth time I’ve had to call you guys in the past two years.”
I thought moving to a new town would put a stop to all this, and for a while, it did. I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.
He looks up at me with interest. “What do you know about him?”
“Not much. I know he follows me. He’s never actually hurt me. But then again he’s never masturbated all over my bed until tonight.”
“He could be escalating,” he agrees. “Or he could be angry you’re not acknowledging his attention.”
“Maybe,” I agree. “But he’s pretty much left me alone since I moved here two months ago. I moved from my hometown to get away from him.”
“Then it probably took him this long to find you again. The message he left on the bed, it’s likely retaliation for you moving.”
It makes sense. I groan and rub my temples. How did he find me? I was so careful to cover my tracks, even going as far as changing my name and limiting contact with my family.
My parents were killed when I was a teenager by a drunk driver. I was taken in by my aunt— my mother’s younger sister—who is really the only family I have left. I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for Carmel, Andre, and my two cousins, Ally and Paige.