Chapter 1: Welcome to the Neighborhood

Judith Linden was the first to notice the large rental truck coming to a stop at the house across the street. This was not terribly surprising. She was usually the first to notice anything that occurred in the upscale suburban neighborhood she called home. As President of the Southern Gardenville Homeowner’s Association, and as neighborhood block captain, and as the unofficial though highly premium source of all neighborhood gossip, not much escaped her sharp eyes and ears. Before the rumbling of the engine even died, she was at her living room window, peering out to see what there was to see, her mind ready to catalogue any information she could later share with the other inhabitants of Morning Cove Way.

The truck was a large one – the largest you could rent with a standard driver’s license. It had parked at the curb with the back end next to the driveway. Another vehicle had pulled up with it – a large, four-wheel drive pickup, about six years old, that had dents and scratches all along the front and sides. Judith had seen this truck before, several times in fact. It belonged to the young couple that had been in and out of the house across the street over the past two months. She had suspected that they were buying it. Her suspicions were now confirmed. The back of the pickup was filled with furniture, boxes, and other materials that had been tied down with rope. Judith wrinkled her nose at this sight. They weren’t even using professional movers to bring their belonging to their new home? What kind of people were they, anyway?

The doors to both vehicles opened. The man stepped out of the large truck. He was indeed the man she’d seen in and out of the house lately, ever since the “for sale” sign had been taken down. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, much too young, in her opinion, to afford a house in this exclusive neighborhood. About six feet tall and fairly average looking, his brown hair was cut very short, almost bald, as was the style among the young kids these days (a style she most certainly didn’t approve of – her son was forced to wear his hair long). He was wearing a pair of tattered blue jean shorts and a light colored T-shirt with the logo of a Mexican beer on the front. The shirt was not tucked into his waist, she noted with distaste, but was instead hanging several inches down. It was stained with sweat and grime and looked like something she herself would use to wash her counters with.

The woman got out of the pickup. She was taller than average for a female, nearly six feet it appeared. Though she was not fat, she certainly was not petite either. She was just a large girl, Amazonian almost, maybe the same age as the man, maybe a little younger. Her face was pretty and her hair was a rich brunette, though cut much shorter than Judith thought respectable. It barely came down to her neck. She had a half shirt on that showed her tanned stomach off and the glint of a belly button ring was plainly visible. The shorts she was wearing were black spandex so tight they were obscene. Her legs were long and well muscled, obviously advertising the fact that the woman exercised them regularly.

“White trash,” Judith mumbled to herself, giving a small shake of the head. The Livingstons - who had been the previous occupants of the house – had sold their home to a couple of banjo playing losers. It was the buyer’s market that had caused this, she told herself. Interest rates were so low that seemingly anyone could get a home loan these days. Whatever happened to the good old days when standards had been maintained in real estate sales?

Judith saw that the man and woman were not the only occupants of the two vehicles. From the cab of the large truck a young boy and an even younger girl jumped out excitedly, trotting immediately up to the front door. The boy was about seven, maybe eight, the girl probably around six. They jumped up and down excitedly as they looked over their new home. The woman said something to both of them and they calmed down. The boy took a key and ran up to the front door. A moment later he opened the door and went inside.

Judith continued to watch as the man and woman conversed for a few moments and then opened up the back of the large truck. They extended the metal ramp and then began the process of unloading things. They brought out boxes and bags one by one and carried them inside before coming back for more. The two children pitched in to help, each being handed smaller items from time to time.

After maybe twenty minutes of watching them move their belongings into the home, Judith’s attention was diverted by the appearance of Samantha Belkin, one of the other neighbors, walking to the communal mailbox installed between Judith’s house and the house next door. Sensing an opportunity to check out the new neighbors a little further and to perhaps spread a little gossip, she quickly stood up and put on her fashionable leather sandals. After pausing to grab the mailbox key, she opened the door and stepped out, moving quickly and reaching the mailbox at the same time as Samantha.

“Hi, Sam,” she said cheerfully. “Fancy meeting you out here.”

Samantha gave a slight smile. “Hi, Judith,” she greeted. “Having a good day?”

“I can’t complain,” she told her. “Can’t complain.”

Samantha nodded and turned her attention to her mailbox, opening it and removing a sheaf of envelopes and advertising flyers. She was in her mid-thirties, a small, petite blonde woman with bright blue eyes. Still attractive despite having produced three children, her husband was nevertheless neglecting her severely, both in the emotional department and in the sexual fulfillment department. A lawyer who put in eighty hour weeks on a routine basis, even when he was home he locked himself in his office and spent his leisure time downloading pornography and masturbating to it.

This was information that had come to Judith via Samantha’s best friend Michelle O’Riley, who lived three doors down and who had confided the information to Judith during a day of lounging at the latter’s pool and drinking wine. Judith had of course told a few of the other neighborhood women this story – after all, it was too good to keep to one’s self, wasn’t it? Unfortunately those women had told a few other women – this despite Judith’s admonishment to keep the information private – and within a matter of days, the entire block knew. This had caused a bit of a strain between Judith and Samantha, although why this should be so when it was Michelle who had blabbered the information Judith certainly couldn’t fathom.

“Did you see we have new neighbors?” Judith asked when it seemed that Samantha was going to simply collect her mail and leave without conversation.

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “I saw that.”

“Don’t they just look like complete white trash?” she asked. “I mean, look at them. They’re moving their own belongings in. Can’t they afford movers?”

Samantha shrugged. “They look okay to me,” she said. “A little young maybe. The kids are cute.”

“Those kids look like troublemakers to me,” Judith opined. “They’ll probably run wild all day and night and then bring down the regional test scores at the elementary school. I told you my daughter’s class got the highest scores in the school, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you may have mentioned that a time or two,” Samantha replied.

Judith looked the new neighbors up and down again, her eyes passing from the woman, who was carrying in an end table, to the man, who was returning to the truck for another load, and then over the two children, who were carrying couch pillows. “I’m telling you,” she told Samantha. “This real estate slump we’re in is just killing us. Look at what kind of people are being allowed to move into our neighborhood. Why, I remember a day when people like that wouldn’t have been able to even mow our lawns. Now they’re able to buy a house here, to live among us.” She shook her head at the travesty of it. “I wonder if they even did a credit check on them. Do you suppose things have gotten so bad that they don’t even do proper credit checks anymore?”

“I don’t think they look quite that terrible,” Samantha said. “Sure, they’re a little younger than most of us, but other than that, what’s wrong with them?”

“What’s wrong with them?” she asked, as if speaking to the hopelessly naïve. “Why, just look at them. Him with his hair cut short like he’s a teenager in high school. Her with her stomach bare and her belly button ring. And those clothes they’re wearing. They look like they came right out of the thrift store.” She paused as a thought struck her. “My God, what if they bring cockroaches to the neighborhood? Or lice? What if those kids infect the whole school with some kind of vermin?”

“Vermin?” Samantha said incredulously. “You think they have vermin?”

“You can never tell with those kind of people,” Judith said. “Take my word for it, they don’t belong here. They’re different. I can tell just by looking at them.”

“Maybe that’s what we need around here,” Samantha suggested whimsically. “Someone a little different for once.”

Judith looked at her the way one looks at someone she suspects of mental illness. “Different may be good in other neighborhoods, not this one,” she said firmly. “When one pays as much as we have for our houses one expects that only a certain caliber of person will be allowed to take up residence next door. These people look like common thugs, like riff-raff. They will be inviting their low-life friends into our neighborhood. Their children will be going to our schools, socializing with our children and infecting them with whatever perverted values they’ve been taught.”

Samantha had to fight to roll her eyes. “That’s an awful lot of assumptions about people you haven’t even met,” she said.

Judith glared at her. “I’m a very perceptive woman,” she said. “Trust me on this. Those people will be nothing but trouble for this neighborhood. Nothing but trouble.”

Samantha shrugged. “I’ll reserve my judgment until I see some evidence of that. In the meantime, I think I’ll go introduce myself.” She closed her mailbox and put her mail under her arm. She then turned and began heading across the street.

Judith watched her go for a few seconds and then hurried after her. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up, a chance to begin gathering some real intelligence on these trashy people so she could present it at the next homeowner’s association meeting (and, of course, start spreading it around to the rest of the neighborhood).

Samantha gave her the briefest of sour looks when she saw she was joining her but quickly hid it. She put a friendly smile on her face as they walked across the hot pavement to the back of the rental truck. The man and the woman had both just returned from the house and were walking up the ramp, apparently intending to start grappling with an easy chair. They both looked up, their faces sweaty from the August heat, which was already considerable despite the fact that it was only ten o’clock in the morning.

“Hi there,” Samantha greeted, her voice friendly and a little timid, her blue eyes shining brightly. “You two must be our new neighbors.”

The two of them passed a look among themselves, an uninterpretable look, but one that was obviously relaying some sort of message. For a moment it looked as if they were going to ignore the intrusion and simply go back to work, but finally they stepped down out of the back of the truck, utilizing the bumper instead of the ramp.

“That we are,” the man said, his voice monotone, no smile upon his face.

“We just got the keys today,” the woman said, her voice with the slightest hint of animation, but only the slightest.

“I’m Samantha Belkin,” Samantha said, holding out her dainty hand. “I live across the street and a couple doors down. We’ll be sharing a mailbox.”

“I see,” the man said. “I’m Scott Dover. You probably don’t want to shake hands with me though. I’m a little grimy from moving.” He held up his hand, which was indeed smeared with oil and dirt and various other stains.

“Oh ... of course,” Samantha said with a slight giggle, putting her hand back down.

The woman used the back of her hand to wipe sweat from her brow and then stepped forward. “I’m Margaret Winslow,” she said. “People call me Maggie though.”

Judith looked sharply at them, her eyes almost boring into them. They didn’t have the same last name? She looked down at their left hands for the first time. Sure enough, neither was wearing a wedding ring, nor did they have any tan lines associated with such items. The man was wearing nothing but a watch. The woman had only a silver ring on her thumb for jewelry. They were not married to each other! What typical white trash! This was even worse than she had thought. She looked back up at their faces and saw they were both staring at her expectantly and perhaps a bit impatiently, waiting for her to introduce herself. She had the curious sensation they both knew exactly what she was thinking. She forced a neutral expression onto her face. “Uh ... I’m Judith,” she said. “Judith Linden. I live across the street there, in the large house.”

“How do you do, Judith?” Maggie said politely. “Do they call you Judy?”

“No,” she said firmly. “They do not.”

The two of them passed another look. “Okay then,” Maggie said. “Judith it is.”

“You can call me Sam though,” Samantha piped up after casting her own dirty look in Judith’s direction. “That’s what all my friends call me.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Scott told her.

Samantha either hadn’t picked up on the differing last names or was pretending not to have. Judith wasn’t sure but suspected the former. She was a blonde, after all. She continued to smile and beam at the two undesirables. “Where are you folks from?” she asked them. “Are you new to the Heritage area?”

“No,” Maggie said with a shake of the head. “We’ve both lived here all our lives. We’re just uprooting and moving to a different part.”

“Then you’re used to this horrible heat we have here,” Samantha said.

“Yes,” Scott said, giving a slight nod. “We’re quite used to it.”

“And what is it you do for a living?” Judith asked, seeing an opening to start gathering some real dirt. Of course, whatever they said would probably be a lie – they were undoubtedly involved in some shady or even criminal enterprise – but the rules of gossip did demand she get their alleged answer.

“We both work for the county,” Scott told her.

“For the county?” Judith said, raising her eyebrows a tad. “What do you do for them?”

“Just a civil service job,” Maggie said dismissively. She shrugged. “It pays the bills.”

“Yes it does,” Scott agreed. “And it let us buy this house in this nice neighborhood.”

“How fortunate,” Judith said sourly, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her tone.

“Yes,” Maggie said, looking directly at Judith. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“You both have to work then?” Samantha said, obviously pondering such a tragedy.

Scott chuckled. “That’s right.”

“How ... uh ... nice,” Samantha told them. “I mean ... that ... you know ... that both of you can contribute to the household.”

“Uh ... yeah,” Maggie said. “So, you don’t work then?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head enthusiastically. “Most of the women in the neighborhood are stay-at-home-moms.”

“Of course you are,” Scott said.

Judith glared at him. Was he making fun of their lifestyle? “We’re very traditional in this neighborhood,” she said. “We believe a mother should be devoted to raising her children and instilling them with conservative values.”

Scott shrugged, seemingly unfazed by her stern tone. “To each their own,” he said. “That’s what makes America great, isn’t it?”

“That’s an interesting point of view,” Samantha piped up before Judith had a chance to answer.

“Well thank you, Sam,” Scott told her, giving a smile that was borderline flirtatious.

Samantha actually blushed, much to Judith’s shock and amazement. “I always try to see all points of view.”

“As well you should,” Maggie said.

Right then the two children came back out of the house, the boy in the lead. “Scott,” the boy said as they trod across the lawn to the back of the truck. “I put the water bottles in the ice chest like you said, but I couldn’t reach the top of the cupboard to put away those glasses.”

“And he tried really hard, Daddy,” the girl said. “He even tried to climb up on that little ladder.”

“That’s okay,” Scott said, smiling at the two of them. “You guys are doing good. Why don’t you finish putting those couch cushions on now?”

“Okay,” the boy said. “C’mon, Katie!” He turned and ran back towards the front door.

“I get to do the red ones!” the girl said, running after him.

Judith, of course, noticed right away the boy had called Scott by his first name, which meant he wasn’t the father. “Those are your ... uh ... children?” she asked shrewdly.

“Well, the little boy is mine,” Maggie said. “His name is Christopher. He’ll be seven in December.”

“Katie’s mine,” Scott said, looking after her affectionately. “She’ll be six next month.”

Judith could no longer contain herself. “So, you two aren’t ... aren’t married?” she asked.

They looked at each other again, seeming to find amusement in this question. “No,” Scott said. “We’re not married. We’re not even a couple.”

“You’re not a couple?” Judith asked. “What do you mean?”

“We’re just friends,” Maggie said, smiling sweetly, as if she knew she was shocking her new neighbors to the core and was relishing it. “Friends who decided to buy a house together.”

For perhaps the first time in her life, Judith found herself speechless. Friends? Buying a house together? Each with their own child? That was unheard of! Absurd! And they were moving into this neighborhood? Would be sending those children to school with her children? What was the world coming to?

“That’s uh ... very interesting,” Samantha said with apparent sincerity. “Then uh ... you’re both ... you know ... divorced?”

“No,” Scott said. “Not really.”

“Not really?” Judith managed to stammer. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve never been married,” Maggie said sweetly. “Christopher came from a little fling I had once.” She looked at Judith and winked. “You know how it is, right?”

“I most certainly do not!” Judith replied, her mouth agape now.

“And as for me,” Scott told her in a matter-of-fact tone, “I was married once. That’s where Katie came from. But it didn’t work out. We got divorced shortly after she was born.”

“You have partial custody then?” Samantha asked.

Scott shook his head. “Katie’s all mine now.” He leaned closer, looking around conspiratorially and then whispering, “Her mother is dead.”

This time even Samantha had the decency to look shocked. “Dead?” she asked slowly.

Scott nodded. “It was a tragic thing,” he said. “Quite sudden and unexpected. But then, now I have full custody of her, so I guess it worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

Both women were now speechless.

“Anyway,” Scott said, standing up straight and putting a smile on his face, “thanks for welcoming us to the neighborhood. We really need to get this truck unpacked now.”

“Yes,” Maggie added. “We want to get it done before it gets too hot.”

“Oh ... umm, sure,” Samantha stammered, licking her lips nervously. “Well ... we’ll see you around, I uh ... I guess. Won’t we, Judith?”

Judith simply nodded, her lips unable to form any words. A moment later Scott and Maggie turned back to the truck and began to discuss among themselves their plan to wrestle the easy chair into the house. Judith and Samantha stared at them for a moment and then, with a look of consternation, they retreated, heading back across the street to rally at the mailbox.

Once the sides of the truck were safely blocking the two neighborhood women’s view of them, and once they were sure the sound would not carry to their position, Scott and Maggie both burst out into hysterical laughter. They chortled, cackled, and snickered for the better part of a minute, until tears were running down their faces.

“Holy fucking shit, that was funny,” Scott said when he was capable of speech again. “Did you see the look on that bitch’s face when I said Katie’s mom was dead?”

“Priceless,” Maggie giggled, wiping at a tear. “You actually managed to trump my ‘little fling’ comment, you asswipe.”

“I wasn’t trying to outdo you,” he said. “Was just adding the two to the one-two knockout.” He shook his head, breaking into a fresh bout. “Damn, did you see them run away?”

“Like their asses were on fire,” she agreed. “And you didn’t even lie, either.”

“I’m nothing if not truthful,” he said. And this was a fact. Diane, his ex-wife, the mother of Kaitlyn, his daughter, was in fact dead and her death had worked out most fortunately as far as child custody went.

“You think we went too far?” Maggie asked.

Scott thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. “Nope,” he told her. “If I’m not mistaken, that Judith bitch is one of the prominent members of this snooty-ass neighborhood. That means she’s probably the bitch with the loudest mouth.”

“Undoubtedly,” Maggie said.

“She’ll start spreading that story around within the next few minutes. I bet she’s on the goddamned phone right now. With any luck, she’ll convince all the little rich housewives and professional yuppie assholes who live her to just stay away from us and leave us alone.”

“Stay-at-home-moms,” Maggie said with mock sternness, miming Samantha’s ditzy blonde tone. “We don’t call them housewives anymore, remember?”

“Of course,” Scott said. “Forgive me. Anyway, if our little shock and awe session out there convinces them to just mind their own business and stay out of ours, it’s well worth it as far as I’m concerned.”

“Amen to that,” Maggie said. “Now lets get this fuckin’ chair inside. Then we can start working on the refrigerator.”

“They’re criminals!” Judith hissed to Samantha. “Did you hear what he said? He as much as admitted he killed his wife!”

“He didn’t say he killed anyone,” Samantha told her. “He just said she died.”

“Quite suddenly and unexpectedly,” Judith quoted. “He’s how old? Maybe 25? 28 at the most? How old would his wife have been? Probably about the same age! Since when do 25 year old women suddenly drop dead?”

“If he killed his wife, why would he tell us about it?” she asked.

“As a warning!” she said. “He was threatening us, Sam! Don’t you see that? He was telling us to stay away from him or the same thing might happen to us!”

Though Samantha had been somewhat disquieted by the new neighbor’s words, she wasn’t quite convinced he was a murderer. “I didn’t quite get that from what he said.”

“I bet they’re drug dealers,” Judith said, ignoring her. “Some of those methamphetamine brewers you hear about on the news. I bet they’re on the run from the law! Why ... those kids were probably kidnapped!”

“Kidnapped?”

“Didn’t you see the way they were looking at them? Like they were scared of them?”

“I didn’t see that at all,” Samantha told her. “They seemed like normal kids.”

“Hmmph,” Judith grunted. “What if they’re terrorists? Didn’t the woman look a little dark skinned? Come on, follow me.”

“Where are we going?” Samantha asked.

“To my house,” she answered. “I’m going to get a closer look at these people.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just follow me,” she said, turning from the mailbox and heading up her driveway. After a moment, Samantha followed.

They went inside Judith’s house and closed the door. The front entry led into the formal living room of the house. Judith had this room immaculate, covered in hardwood flooring and stocked with beautifully restored antique furniture that no one was allowed to sit in or even touch. She led Samantha over to the large picture window. The blinds were adjusted in such a way that Judith could see out but – with the lighting and the angle – no one would be able to see in. She opened the drawer on an eighteenth century sewing table and removed a pair of high-powered binoculars. She put them to her eyes and peered out, looking back and forth until she tracked onto the two terrorist drug-dealing murderers that had invaded her beloved neighborhood. They were wrestling the easy chair down the truck’s ramp, each holding a side of it.

“Binoculars?” Samantha asked incredulously. “You have binoculars?”

“It’s for neighborhood watch,” Judith said, not taking them from her eyes. “I’m the block captain, you know.”

“Of course,” Samantha said, shaking her head.

Judith watched as they slowly made their way across the lawn and onto the porch. They wrestled the chair up the two steps and then paused at the doorway. They had a brief discussion and then switched positions, searching for the best angle with which to get the thing through. After a few fits and starts, they finally found it and disappeared inside.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Samantha asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m going to watch them unload. See if they’re bringing in any drug lab components or anything suspicious like that.”

“Do you really think they would unload something like that in plain sight?”

“Sam dear,” Judith said condescendingly. “People who engage in such activities are not known for their intelligence. They don’t know anyone is watching them.”

“Ahh,” Samantha said. “I see.”

The two children came out of the house. They hopped and skipped across the lawn, pausing near the tree in the middle of it to look at something, and then ran up the ramp into the back of the rental truck. From her angle, Judith could see most of the inside. They rummaged around for a minute, trying to lift various boxes until each found one they could handle without assistance. Finally, loaded down, they went back down the ramp and across the lawn. No sooner had they disappeared from sight than the two adults reappeared. The man walked over to the pickup truck and pulled a wheeled dolly from the back of it. He wheeled it across the sidewalk and up the ramp. The woman followed him up and they stood there for a second, pondering the refrigerator which was the next large thing. Finally, the man took the dolly and pushed it forward, so it was underneath the appliance. He began to go about fastening the straps that would secure it to the dolly.

“What do you think is in that thing?” Judith whispered, though loud enough for Samantha to hear.

“In the refrigerator?” asked Samantha, who had a somewhat smaller view of the proceedings. “My guess would be nothing. They’re kind of hard to move when they’re full.”

“Don’t be naïve,” Judith said. “They’re up to something.”

Samantha rolled her eyes, wondering if Judith had finally gone over the edge. It had been whispered for some time that she was heading for it.

When the strap was secure the woman took the handles of the dolly and steadied herself. The man then went around the side of it. He reached up to the top to help tilt it off the floor of the truck so it could be wheeled. As he stretched his arms to do this, it caused his T-shirt to pull up over his waist. Through her high-powered binoculars Judith was plainly able to see a leather holster clipped to his belt on the right side of his shorts. Protruding from the holster was the black butt of a handgun.

“Oh my God,” Judith barked. “Oh my God!”

“What?” asked Samantha. “What did you see?”

“He’s got a gun!” she said. “A gun!”

“A gun? Where? I don’t see a gun.”

“It’s under his shirt!” she said. “I saw it! Just as plain as day!”

“Are you sure?” Samantha asked, wondering if she was having visual delusions now as well as mental ones.

“Of course I’m sure,” she said, frantically peering at that part of his body trying to catch another glimpse but now that the refrigerator was in the proper position his shirt had come back down, covering it. “He’s running around with a gun! I told you they’re criminals! Who else carries a gun around?”

“Where is it at?” Samantha asked. “Let me see.”

Judith handed her the binoculars. “It’s under his shirt on the right side of his waist,” she told her. “I saw it when he reached up to tilt the refrigerator. Oh my God! What do you think he’s going to do with it?”

Samantha didn’t answer her. Instead, she put the binoculars to her face and looked at the man and the woman wrestling with the refrigerator. She focused on the right side of the man’s waist, where his shirt was hanging down. And now that Judith had mentioned it, she did seem to see a slight bulge there, as if something were underneath. “Are you sure it wasn’t a cell phone?” she asked.

“It was a gun!” Judith insisted. “I know the difference between a cell phone and a gun!”

Samantha continued to watch as they gently eased the refrigerator down the ramp to the street. The man stood on the downhill portion, keeping the appliance steady while the woman held onto the dolly. Inch by inch they descended until they were safely down. They eased it back to a level position and took a breather. After a few moments the woman began to pull on the dolly again. The man then reached up to apply pressure and tilt it. As he did so, his shirt came up again, only for a few seconds. During that brief period of time Samantha could not help but see the holstered handgun that was revealed.