Obsession, Beth Stafford [best thriller novels to read txt] 📗

At First Sight

The Turtle-Dove Bar. You couldn't exactly call it a local hotspot, but it sufficed. Lawrence Cudrow reached for another salted peanut, washing it down with his already warm beer. The bar was washed in a muted orange glow, made even more ethereal by the wreaths of cigarette smoke dancing in the air. No-one at the Turtle-Dove had paid much heed when it became illegal to smoke indoors, and the bar's owner did nothing to condone such behaviour. It was a backstreet bar in a backwater town, and as far as the regulars were concerned, such trivial alterations to the law simply didn't affect them. Lawrence offered a smile to one such passing regular, and the man tipped his hat in reply. It was all a game to him, really. The game of normality. So long as he came off as a respectful, beer-drinking, bar-hopping man, the locals wouldn't suspect him too much. And that's exactly what he aimed for. In reality, all he wanted was to be at home, shut-in with his snapshots and his memories. But he didn't want to be one of those “quiet folk” that received so much abhorrence from the regulars here, and so here he was, picking stale fragments of salted peanut out of his teeth. To be different was to be a crime, as far as they were concerned, so he tried as best he could to appear at least somewhat ordinary.
The door swung open, sending plumes of cigarette smoke spiralling up into the ceiling. The soft clitter-clatter of a woman's high-heeled shoes approached, followed by a sultry cloud of perfume. Lawrence turned slightly in his stool, peering out from beneath his mop of dirty-blond hair. The girl, no more than twenty, draped herself across the bar and rang the bell that sat there.
“Pappy? Pappy are you back there?”
A rustling came from the back-room, followed by the bar owner's flustered face. Reginald Jackson he was officially called, to everyone else he was R.J.
“Tanya?” R.J's face broke into a wide smile, and flipping up the divider that separated punter from bar-tender, he pulled the girl into a long embrace. At long last he drew away, staring at her with undisguised surprise. “What are you doing here, sweetie? I thought you didn't get in until tomorrow morning?”
“I decided to get an earlier train,” she shrugged, a slight smile playing on her full lips. “I couldn't wait one more day!”
R.J chuckled to himself. “Hey everyone!”
The regulars clustered in the bar all turned to face R.J obediantly.
“This here is Tanya, my daughter. She's down here for the summer break, so y'all all treat her nicely now or you'll be hearing from me.”
Tanya laughed, a delicate tinkling noise, like bells caught in a gentle breeze. “It's so good to see you, Pappy. I'd forgotten how much of a homicidal maniac you are.”
Lawrence smirked to himself. She had no idea what a homicidal maniac was. The pair continued to whisper amongst themselves, R.J drawing Tanya behind the bar so that could adequately catch-up in peace. All the while Lawrence watched them, drinking in every detail of the girl. From her brunette waves that cascaded half-way down her back, to the soft, ivory slope of her neck, Lawrence memorised it all. It has been a while since a girl had stirred such familiar feelings deep within him, feelings he thought he'd long since forgotten how to feel. But here she was, this girl, this revelation. Tanya.

Box of Secrets

Lawrence didn't leave the bar until half-past two that morning. It was unusual for him to be one of the last people to leave, but he simply couldn't tear himself away. The longer he spent in Tanya's presence, the more he felt he had to have her. But should he – could he – really? She was R.J's daughter, a pillar of the community. She wasn't like the others, not by a long shot. And in a way, that's what made her so irresistible.
Lawrence didn't want to sleep. In fact, he couldn't. He was certain of that. Even to try would be an exercise in futility. Instead he went down into the basement, down to the third step, and pried it loose. Inside sat his Box of Secrets, a wooden box glided with elegant gold trimming on the corners and around the latch. It was the one thing on earth that kept him sane. Well, his version of sane at least.
It'd been so long since he'd felt the need to come down here, so long that he almost feared he'd never want to again. He lifted the box from its alcove and tenderly blew the dust off the top. He opened it, the harsh florescent lights that glowed above illuminating the contents within. The box had two different sections; one for photographs, one for what he called his 'souvenirs'. He pulled them each out, one by one, reliving each memory they brought, revelling in them.

The Hunt

The next night he didn't go to the Turtle-Dove. He couldn't. He'd spent the entire day sleeping, dreaming of Tanya and his Box of Secrets. Those feelings, those familiar feelings, were back even stronger than ever before. Last night had just been faint stirrings, but now they consumed him, blackening his mind with their endless forceful commands. He couldn't resist them any longer, but R.J would get over it in time, of that he was certain. He called the feelings 'Love'. They were the closest he'd ever been to being in conventional love, and he knew no better. To him, he was hopelessly, completely, truly, head-over-heels in love.
He drove to R.J's home, a quaint abode on the outskirts of town. It sat nestled amongst a grove of trees, at the base of a deep valley. The only sign of life below was a single window, glowing starkly against the inky shadow of night. R.J would be at the bar, so the light meant only one thing; Tanya.
Lawrence slid from his car, paying attention not to slam the door. His heart was pounding in his head, encouraging him with each step. Soon his footfalls were matching that of the rhythmic rush of blood in his head, the anticipation building up inside him with each passing moment.
He made his way down the steep drive, each step a careful consideration. The last thing he wanted was to alert Tanya to his presence. This wasn't his first rodeo.
Suddenly the porch light flickered on, bathing the entire yard in an obtrusive amber glare. Lawrence ducked into a patch of over-grown grass, pressing himself to the ground. He could hear Tanya step out onto the porch, before making her way toward her car. Her Toyota Corolla thrummed into life, effortlessly ferrying Lawrence's quarry away from his reach.
Lawrence broke into a run up the drive, beads of sweat standing out against his forehead. He could still make out Tanya's tail-lights on the horizon, but he didn't have long. He threw himself into his car, cursing loudly the entire time. He took off down the street after Tanya, sending up a spray of gravel in his wake.
He slammed the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, his face blooming red with fury. How could it have gone so wrong? She wasn't supposed to leave. He wasn't supposed to be following her down Cliff Street, desperately trying to keep his distance and yet wanting more than anything to be right behind her.
He trailed her at a conservative pace, every now and then letting her disappear from his view. People seemed to be very intuitive about being followed, Lawrence had learned that the hard way. He didn't want to take any chances this time, not with Tanya.
She turned onto the main road, her indicator blinking at Lawrence, taunting him. He felt another surge of rage, but suppressed it. He couldn't lose himself. He had to keep his wits about him.
Tanya pulled over outside one of the town's few fashion boutique stores. She lingered outside of it for a moment, gazing into the darkened store. Lawrence parked a few spaces behind, staying in his car until he was sure Tanya had turned away, until he was sure Tanya wouldn't see him.
Tanya walked briskly along the deserted street, her head bowed against the early-winter breeze. The only sounds were that of her boots connecting with the concrete path, and every now and then the sound of her mobile phone springing to life with a message.
Lawrence kept to the shadows, never taking his eyes from the figure before him. She was enthralling to watch, the way the street-lamps illuminated her hair, making it glow as if on fire. The way she swayed her hips as she walked, or the way her dainty hands moved by her sides. Yes, it had been a long, long time since Lawrence had had a girl like her.
Tanya's pace slowed, and she cast a tentative glance over her shoulder. Lawrence ducked into an alley-way, pressing himself so close to the brick wall he may as well have merged with it. Finally her steps resumed, and Lawrence continued his pursuit. Tanya seemed to be walking faster, her jacket wrapped tightly around her slight frame, arms encircling her ribs.
She knows

, Lawrence thought. He was right.
It was now or never, Lawrence knew. Now or he'd lose Tanya forever, he'd lose his only chance with the girl that had haunted his dreams and dominated his thoughts. Quick as a viper, he came up behind Tanya and clamped a single steel hand over her mouth. A muffled scream ensued, accompanied by the usual flailing of arms and kicking of legs. But Lawrence, being a near giant at 6'4” was no match for Tanya's petite 5'6” body. He dragged her back along the street the way they had come. Tanya continued to buck against him, and Lawrence's hand slipped. Her teeth came down hard on the soft flesh between his thumb and fore-finger, and Lawrence yelped in pain. Tanya took her chance and issued a single, shrill call for help that reverberated down the street. Lawrence replaced his hand, still throbbing with the memory of Tanya's bite, and bundled her into the back of his car. She continued to kick at him, but it was no feat for him to overpower her. He secured a gag to stifle her ceaseless noise, and bound her arms and legs with rope.
He clamoured into the driving seat, pausing to inspect the wound to his hand. Droplets of blood gleamed on the white skin, and a purplish bruise was already igniting beneath. He grumbled to himself as he wiped the blood away on the front of his shirt.
He drove where he always took the girls, although it'd been a while since he'd been down this route. The town eventually faded away into open fields, the open fields melting into tall, unhindered forest.
Lawrence turned into a thin dirt road, enclosed on all sides by statuesque trees, their weeping branches casting finger-like tendrils of leaves down from the sky. Tanya's struggling had begun to quieten, and Lawrence's seat no longer shook against the force of her thrashing body. They always tired themselves out in that way, and Lawrence often wondered why they didn't conserve their energy for the eventual destination he took them to. He supposed he'd never know.
The forest broadened before the beams of Lawrence's headlights, exposing a vast clearing. A shimmering lake sat in its centre, reflecting soft moonlight from its still surface. Every