Josh's Challenge

  Edited by Jessica Santina

  JOSH’S CHALLENGE

  Copyright © 2018 Elise Manion

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by BHC Press

  Library of Congress Control Number:

  2018930854

  ISBN Numbers:

  Softcover: 978-1-947727-45-8

  Ebook: 978-1-948540-10-0

  Also available in trade softcover

  Visit the publisher at:

  www.bhcpress.com

  I’d like to thank my husband

  for putting up with all my one-sided conversations

  and constant promises that I’d “be right there,”

  only to be left waiting while I write

  one more chapter, or edit one more scene.

  Tom, you are my prince, my heart,

  and sometimes my challenge.

  I love you with all my heart.

  How long have you had a stalker, Miss Theroux?” Timbisha County Sheriff Jarod King asked as he examined, with gloved hands, a white box filled with chocolates and a syringe filled with liquid.

  “Cut the formal crap, Jarod. She’s upset enough,” said her landlord, Josh King. He was also the sheriff’s youngest brother.

  Missy stared, speechless as usual, while two sets of perfect blue eyes glared at each other. She took a cautious step back, in case the brothers’ reputation for fighting were to explode on her front porch.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I don’t have a stalker,” she denied in a shaky voice. Unfortunately, Harold’s face flashed before her eyes.

  “Who’s Harold, Missy?” Jarod asked, less formally, interrupting her thoughts.

  Crap on toast, Did I say that name out loud?

  “Melissa?” Josh asked with so much concern in his voice that it stole her breath. When he reached up to touch her shoulder, she flushed with embarrassment and immediately stepped back.

  “Harold Klein was my philosophy professor.”

  “You had an intimate relationship with one of your teachers?” Jarod’s tone wasn’t judgmental, but the question put her back up anyway.

  “Of course not. He asked me out and I said no. When he kept harassing me, we obtained a restraining order. He backed right off after that.” She crossed her arms protectively over her chest, the reminder of that awkward situation making her feel small.

  “Who’s ‘we?’” Jarod asked, not skipping a beat.

  “Me and my roommate.”

  “So you do have a stalker,” Jarod confirmed.

  She let her shoulders fall. Did she? Harold didn’t live anywhere near Timbisha. He didn’t even live in Nevada. He’d never left her “gifts” like the one found on her porch this morning. Shaking her head, she asked, “How do we know that the chocolates are intended for me? I just moved in.”

  “She’s got a point, Jarod. There isn’t a name on the box,” Josh pointed out.

  “Exactly,” she agreed. “You see, Sheriff, I was just about to take a jog when I found it on the porch…”

  “Don’t call him ‘sheriff’ when he’s acting like an ass,” Josh interrupted.

  “The only ass on this porch is you,” Jarod answered.

  Before Josh could counter his brother, Missy pressed on with her point. “Maybe it was intended for the people who used to live here?” Then she turned to Josh. “Do you know how to find your previous tenants?”

  Josh and Jarod shared a look with each other before the sheriff cleared his throat. “Well, that’s an interesting theory, since I used to live here. Actually, it was my wife’s townhouse before she was my wife…Oh, hell.” Jarod rolled his eyes heavenward.

  Josh explained, “I bought the townhouse from Lauren but rented it back to them after they got married so that I could remodel their suite at the estate.”

  “Oh, I see.” She really didn’t, and his vague explanation still didn’t answer the question as to why someone would leave a potentially lethal box of chocolates on her porch.

  As if reading her mind, Josh explained, “The syringe we found in the box does suggest that it could be tied to the drug dealers you cleared out of Timbisha, Jarod. Maybe this is residual fallout from some of Brad’s associates?”

  Missy shuddered at the reminder of the awful story her sister had recounted to her; the kidnapping of Jarod’s wife and daughter, the meth, the murders…all things Missy never thought would happen in her small hometown.

  “You said there’s a syringe inside the box, Missy?” Jarod asked as he carefully lifted the lid.

  “Yes, but we didn’t touch it. When we saw the syringe, Josh quickly closed it up and called you.”

  Jarod lifted the syringe out of the box, gave it a cursory glance before placing it in an evidence bag. He set it aside and then checked under the bubble wrap covering the chocolates.

  “What the hell is that?” Josh asked. Missy didn’t miss the anger in his voice.

  “It looks like each candy has a paper letter pinned to it, but they aren’t in order,” Jarod said quietly.

  “Like a word jumble?” Missy asked.

  Jarod raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, maybe,” he said, shrugging as if considering her theory. “Won’t know anything until I can get this analyzed.” He took some photos of the box, of the lettered chocolates and syringe, before carefully putting the lid back in place. He then stuffed the whole thing into another evidence bag and sealed it. “I would prefer that you not be alone. Can you stay with your mom for a while?”

  “No!” Missy declared before she could catch herself. Jarod and Josh raised their eyebrows at her outburst. “I mean, of course I’ll be careful, but no, I can’t stay with Mom. Marguerite’s moved home to take care of our mother while she’s sick, and I don’t want to impose on either of them. I’m sure this,” she indicated the toxic chocolates, “will turn out to be nothing, right?” She hoped it would be nothing.

  “Hey,” Josh said and put his arm around her shoulders. She realized she was shaking with an oncoming panic attack. Surprisingly, his comforting touch stifled the onset. His next words, though, brought on a different sort of embarrassment. “Look, I’m right next door. You’ve got my number. All you have to do is call me, Melissa.”

  “Of course,” she whispered. Missy had never been good at conversation with humans. She related more to animals than people, which meant she’d spent most of her life with creatures who communicated by their behavior. Josh, handsome devil that he was, made her fumble for her words with his amazing blue eyes, his easygoing personality, and that lady-killing smile. She was always flummoxed when he was near.

  The sheriff studied her for a moment before finally relenting. “Fine. I’ll talk to Dane, but in the meantime, Missy, I want you to keep your doors locked. Here,” he handed her a card, “this is my personal cell. Don’t hesitate to call me for anything, day or night. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” She took the card and tucked it into her pocket.

  “Josh, that goes for you, too. I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  She followed Jarod to his cruiser, the offending box of chocolates under his arm, while Josh tagged along on her heels. Jarod put everything in the trunk before getting in and pulling away from the curb.

  When he was out of sight, Josh turned her toward hi
m. “I mean it, Melissa. Call me anytime, and don’t be shy about it. It doesn’t matter if that box was meant for you or not. Things got crazy around here last fall, and, I swear, if anything happened to you…” he trailed off. His sincerity took her by surprise. However, she wouldn’t feel comfortable imposing on him, especially if he were entertaining one of his many female admirers. Now that Jarod had departed, the hideous awkwardness that had plagued her since childhood was creeping in. It was an unwelcome social anxiety that usually happened when she couldn’t think of a thing to say to someone she’d known for most of her life. Before her affliction got the better of her, she cleared her throat and said, “Of course, Josh. Thank you.”

  That was a proper response, wasn’t it?

  His smile was beautiful as he patted her shoulder before leaving for his townhouse. She studied Josh’s confident swagger until she felt the heat in her cheeks. Embarrassed, she entered her own townhouse and immediately tripped over a damn cardboard box, stubbing her toe.

  “Dang it, I hate moving,” she mumbled as she hurried to pick up her iPhone, which had begun ringing. She snatched it off the counter and slid her finger over the screen. “Hello?”

  “It’s me. Are you all right? What happened?” Marguerite said in Big Sister Interrogation Mode.

  “I know it’s you, your picture was covering the home screen. I’m fine,” Missy sighed.

  “Oh, no you don’t. Explain why Jarod had me call a courier to run a dubious box of chocolates, and a syringe for God’s sake, to a forensics lab in Reno! Chocolates, I might add, that were found on your front porch?”

  Missy rolled her eyes. Obviously, her sister already knew what was going on, so why was she making her rehash it? “We don’t even know if they were meant for me, Marguerite. The message was jumbled . . .”

  “What message? Jarod was tight-lipped about the whole thing.”

  “It might’ve been meant for him. Josh thinks it could be a warning for finding that drug money in Vegas last year.” God, please let it be about the drug money.

  “Or,” Marguerite countered, “it could be Harold’s doing.”

  “Harold isn’t stalking me!”

  “Oh yeah? Then why did you get a restraining order against him?”

  “Because he was a little too persistent,” Missy explained weakly.

  Marguerite’s disgusted grunt was loud and clear. “Same difference.” There was silence on the other end. Missy imagined the cogs rotating inside Marguerite’s head. Her sister was a smart cookie who hid behind the false persona of a dumb blonde. Behind the Estee Lauder mask and salon-colored hair was a sharp, analytic mind.

  Finally, Marguerite admitted, “I guess it could be possible that some moron hadn’t realized Jarod and Lauren moved out of the townhouse. What did the message say?”

  Missy sighed. Marguerite wouldn’t quit until she had all the facts so Missy explained it all again. “You guys’ll know before I do.” She paused before she admitted, “Josh was the one who opened the box and called Jarod.”

  “Is Josh in the habit of just stopping by early in the morning, or did he stay the night?” Marguerite asked with a knowing tone.

  “No, he did not stay the night…sheesh!” Her sister always assumed that things were naughtier than they actually were.

  “Keep going,” Marguerite commanded, back to being all business.

  “Okay, so I guess I was just standing on the porch not moving, holding this box of candy. He was coming out of his townhouse when he ran over to check on me. As soon as he saw what was inside the box, he called Jarod. You know the rest. Satisfied?”

  “Not until I know for sure who that box was intended for, and what was in that syringe,” Marguerite answered with some heat. “I’m calling Uncle Dane just in case.”

  “No need, I think Jarod’s going to do that.”

  “Really?” Marguerite sounded surprised.

  “Yes, why wouldn’t he? He knows that Uncle Dane is ex-FBI, and didn’t you both say that they worked together last fall?”

  Marguerite was quiet for a moment. “Never mind about that.” Bringing the conversation back around, she asked, “Do you think Harold could’ve sent the chocolates?”

  “Marguerite! I told you, I took care of that.”

  “We’ll see,” she said. “I have to go. Jarod needs help with the lab forms.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you later. Please don’t tell Mom about this. I don’t want to worry her.”

  “I won’t. I love you, Missy.”

  “I love you, too, Marguerite.”

  Missy ended the call and looked around her cluttered living room. She hadn’t unpacked a thing in two weeks except the necessities. Her bedroom furniture and clothes were in place, but she hadn’t bothered with the rest of the condo, which currently resembled a storage unit. Not wanting to think about what needed to be done, she reached back to her messy ponytail and tugged at it to make sure it was secure. All she needed was her iPhone for music and her earbuds. Exercise was her drug and running was her preference. She did a few stretches before heading out the front door once again.

  HE WAS STALKING her. Josh leaned his forehead against his living room window and groaned. How could he, Josh King, Timbisha County’s ladies’ man extraordinaire, have been reduced to spying on his neighbor, his tenant? Full of self-disgust, he turned away from the window. Women had always come easy to Josh. Twenty-six years of dating had earned him an ease with women that even his brothers were jealous of, but only one girl twisted his guts in a knot and made him feel like an adolescent who was nervous about asking his first crush to the dance: Melissa Anne Theroux.

  Josh had tried to ask her out many times in high school because she was unlike the other girls vying for his attention, but Melissa would blush an adorable shade of red before running away. Melissa was three years younger than him, and he supposed that had been the cause of her embarrassment, but the sting of her rejection had followed him through his college years anyway. When he had returned to Timbisha after graduating, she had been out of state pursuing her veterinary degree. He hadn’t seen her again until six months ago when she’d been a bridesmaid in Jason and Julie’s wedding. All grown up, she’d been elegant but still bashful. Unfortunately, the more he’d poured on the charm during the customary dance between groomsmen and bridesmaids, the further she’d withdrawn from his reach, daring him to win her over.

  After the wedding, she’d immediately left Timbisha again to finish school and had only just returned two weeks ago when she accepted an offer to work for Timbisha county’s one and only veterinary hospital. He hadn’t believed his luck when she’d submitted her application to rent the townhouse from him. Accepting it on the spot, she’d moved in after going over the rental agreement, a document that he’d paid little attention to because he’d been too focused on her dark, auburn hair, the light dusting of freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, and her violet eyes that almost seemed purple.

  Now she lived next door, where she spent a good portion of his day clogging up his mind with images of the two of them dancing together under twinkle lights and around ice sculptures. He couldn’t get her out of his head. He was obsessed and it made him feel edgy…and a little creepy.

  Melissa was his ultimate challenge.

  Josh waited until Melissa started her morning jog before he started his own run. He watched her lock her door and take off around the corner. He tied his shoes and stood. He usually jogged earlier, but the present on her front porch had delayed both of their morning runs. He didn’t like to socialize when he ran, so he never bothered her during hers. Jogging cleared his head, so hitting on Melissa during her workout would be hypocritical. Sometimes he followed her at a distance and sometimes he didn’t. Either way, they usually made it back home at about the same time. It was then, while they caught their breaths, that he cherished. They would both be coming off their post-run highs, and she seemed happy to smile and talk briefly. She was just shy, he assured himself.

  He’
d waited a few minutes before taking off on his own and was now about three blocks behind her. Just like a stalker. God, he was pathetic, but the “gift” she’d found had him on edge, and he wanted to make sure that she was safe. He usually ran about five miles, and he wondered how far she would run today after everything that had happened earlier. He never used the same pattern twice in a row, for safety’s sake, and was relieved that Melissa exercised the same caution, especially in light of this morning’s potential threat.

  He wondered a lot about Melissa.

  While his eyes enjoyed the lovely bounce of her soft behind, his mind was stuck on that box of chocolates. Was it just a prank sent to goose Jarod for breaking up the meth ring last fall? Josh had no answers, but he would make damn sure that Melissa stayed safe on his watch, which didn’t make him a stalker at all…he hoped.

  By his calculation, they’d run almost two miles when something caught Melissa’s attention. She veered off the sidewalk down into a ditch and out of sight. He immediately picked up his pace and sprinted to the point where she’d disappeared from view. As he got closer, he could hear a low growl followed by Melissa’s melodic voice quietly telling whatever it was that everything was going to be okay.

  “What is it?” he asked quietly, not wanting to spook woman nor beast.

  Judging by her raised eyebrows, his appearance had surprised her. She pointed into the culvert. “It’s a kitten, about six months old. Looks like it’s hurt.”

  He ambled down into the ditch and, sure enough, there was a mangy orange cat with its leg twisted at a weird angle. “Need some help?”

  “Um…actually, yes. I’ve got a dozen boxes in my garage. Do you mind getting one? I’ll stay here with the kitten and try to make friends. I don’t like the look of that leg.”

  “No problem. I’ll be right back.” He ran to their complex, getting in a good sprint to finish off his jog. Glad to be her landlord, he quickly keyed the garage code, grabbed an empty box, and then headed for his pickup. He’d been gone under fifteen minutes, but in that time she had, indeed, made friends with the kitten. It was curled up in her lap, crooked leg and all, while Melissa gentle stroked its fur.