Literally Stalked Read online

  Literally Stalked

  A Pepper Brooks Cozy Mystery

  Eryn Scott

  Kristopherson Press

  Copyright © 2019 by Eryn Scott

  Published by Kristopherson Press

  All rights reserved.

  www.erynwrites.com

  [email protected]

  Facebook: @erynscottauthor

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  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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Paper and Sage Designs

  For Beth Ann.

  Thank you for reading everything I write (multiple times), letting me call you at all hours to talk plot, and finding issues no one else catches.

  But mostly, thanks for being a wonderful friend.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Next in the series

  Also by Eryn Scott

  About the Author

  1

  I glanced at the clock on the wall as my classmates continued their discussion. Five thirty.

  The last hour had flown by. That’s what happened when I got involved in spirited literary debates; time slipped right through my fingers. I couldn’t help myself.

  I need to get going.

  Winter wind howled outside the window of Dr. Ferguson’s classroom. It kicked up swirling snow, which sparkled in the light from inside. I pulled my oversized oatmeal-colored wool sweater tighter around me as I anticipated leaving the warmth of the English building.

  “Heathcliff was twice the romantic hero Mr. Rochester was,” Andrea said with an eye roll.

  Sucked back into the conversation, I turned my attention from the window to my classmate.

  “Um… in what universe?”

  Like I said, I couldn’t help myself.

  Andrea and I narrowed our eyes at each other.

  The two guys in our cohort leaned back a little, unwilling to get involved. After witnessing so many prior confrontations between us, I didn’t blame them.

  We’d butted heads ever since our master's cohort began last year. She always took the opposite stance from mine in any argument, liked all my least favorite characters and writers, and—worse—was the kind of English student who thought the classics were “too boring,” preferring contemporary literature.

  Scowling at each other wasn’t getting us anywhere, so we looked to Janet then Dr. Ferguson to settle our most recent debate.

  Janet held up her hands. “I’m with Pepper, but I’m also biased here.”

  I smiled, not only because she agreed with me, but because I knew why. Edward Rochester often called Jane Eyre “Janet” as they grew closer.

  Seeing she would not get Janet on her side, Andrea turned to our professor.

  Sharon Ferguson was in her seventies, but had more bubble and fizz than most twenty year olds. All eyes turned to her as we waited for the answer to the age-old question: Mr. Heathcliff or Mr. Rochester?

  My shoulders relaxed even before she spoke. I didn’t always agree with Fergie—we’d had many an argument about Russian literature—but in this case, she would back me up.

  “My dears,” she said, followed by a tsk. “Devastatingly handsome as some of our more brooding heroes may be, we must never forget that actions make the man. And while I can forgive Rochester’s lies and schemes to distance himself from the insane Bertha Mason, I have never been able to overlook Heathcliff’s tyranny toward Cathy’s daughter. If he loved Catherine as much as he professed, he should have at least shown her offspring kindness instead of torturing her as he did.”

  Andrea sighed and shook her head. “Disagree. The way he loves Cathy, and only Cathy, shows how much they were meant for each other. Plus, I’m a sucker for tall, dark, and brooding guys.” At this statement, Andrea sent a suggestive wink at Cole.

  Cole Williams was—just as Andrea had noticed last year—tall, dark, and handsome. Under Andrea’s gaze, Cole cleared his throat and ran a hand over the back of his neck. She’d been all over the guy since day one, and I was getting sick of all the lip-wetting, sultry gazes, and thinly veiled commenting she’d been doing, especially over the last few weeks.

  Unable to let Andrea win—and quite sure the guy could use some rescuing—I decided more must be said.

  “Intensity is one thing, Andrea, but there has to be a break, a softer side. Heathcliff is intense all the time and only grows more so, falling into insanity. There has to be a balance.” I stopped, trying to think of an example.

  My boyfriend, Alex, was the obvious choice. The man was hot in that dark and serious way, but he was also the best, most thoughtful person.

  I wrinkled my nose, sure my classmates didn’t want to hear me wax poetic about some guy they'd never met. Inspiration hit as I remembered the guys in the room and decided to use Andrea’s idea against her.

  “Take the men in front of us as examples.” I gestured to Cole first, then Devin. “Both are the strong silent type. I can see them in a few years: wearing dark-rimmed glasses and wool sweaters with patches on the elbows, driving all the young women in their English classes wild.”

  At this, both of the guys smiled—Devin sheepishly, Cole rather wolfishly. Andrea glanced at Devin, but quickly returned her attention to Cole. The way her eyes narrowed as she watched him made him seem more like her prey than her crush.

  Shaking off the shiver that wound up my spine at the thought, I continued. “The more important consideration is that they’re both kind people. I mean, last quarter, Devin helped me with my translations during our Beowulf unit. He totally didn’t have to. And Cole…” I shrugged. “Cole’s been the picture of a nice guy for as long as I’ve known him, which is most of my life. I mean, he’s led our local food drive every year since our senior year of high school. That’s the stuff that makes someone stand out, makes them attractive. Just like Mr. Rochester, how he tried to save Bertha Mason from that fire, even though she started it.”

  I checked my watch again and gathered my books into my messenger bag.

  “As much as I’d love to keep this going, I’ve got somewhere to be,” I said, standing.

  Cole stood too, shooting Andrea a quick wink as he did. “I’ll walk out with you, Pepper. I’ve got to get going too.”

  Fergie nodded. “I’ll be around if the rest of you want to stay, but only for a few more minutes. Places to be, people to see, and all that.”

  I waved as I walked toward the door. Cole held it open for me.

  “Why, thank you.” I stepped through with a duck of my head.

  He bowed his in return. “Trying to live up to the good person you painted me out to be in there.”

  The door clicked shut behind us.

  I screwed up my forehead. “You don’t have to live up to anything. You are a good person.”

  Something tightened in his handsome face. But he seemed to push it aside.

  Discomfited by his expression and hoping to change the subject, I added, “Though, I think you need to be careful about the way you look at An
drea. You’re only encouraging her.”

  This didn’t brighten Cole’s mood. In fact, his eyes darkened as we walked down the deserted English building hallway.

  “Yeah, you might be right.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

  “Is everything okay?” I ventured as we reached the exterior doors.

  Just like that, Cole’s brooding look vanished. “Everything’s fine,” he said with a smile. “Thanks for asking. I’ll see you around.”

  He held the exterior doors open for me too. The cold air stole any other words from my brain, and before I could say anything else, Cole waved goodbye and headed toward the university’s student center.

  “See you,” I called after him, zipping up my jacket and burrowing into the soft collar like a turtle into its shell. The cold air on the back of my neck almost making me regret the short bob I’d gotten last week.

  I turned toward Main Street. I had a date.

  The wind and icy snowflakes threatened to bite through my best winter jacket. My boots crunched along the frozen university sidewalks, littered with salt to keep them somewhat passable. But none of this was unexpected. I’d been dealing with the harsh winters that came with living at the foot of a large mountain range my whole life. I wouldn’t trade Pine Crest for anything.

  Knowing Alex would drive me home after dinner didn’t hurt either.

  As I walked, I called my store.

  “Brooks’ Books,” Jess said as she picked up the call.

  Hearing the name of my bookstore still made me warm inside, which was a welcome sensation in this cold weather.

  “Hey, Jess. It’s me. Wanted to check that you’re good.”

  I normally didn’t call to check in on my trustworthy, amazing employee, but she was doing me a favor by closing tonight, so I could go out with Alex.

  “We’re all good here. It’s been busy.” She laughed. “I think people are stocking up on books for this snowstorm we’re supposed to get.”

  I nodded. It didn’t sound like a bad idea.

  “Great. I’ll be by my phone if you need anything.”

  She let out an indignant, “Psh,” then said, “I’ll be fine. You have a good time with Alex.”

  “Thanks, Jess.” I hung up as I approached the restaurant.

  I bustled into Yum Rosetti, a local favorite. Their blend of Thai and Italian foods couldn’t be beat. Mai, one of the owners, greeted me and led me back to where Alex was sitting at our usual table. Even though I was right on time, I had expected him to beat me there. He was the seven minutes early kind of punctual.

  Alex stood when he caught sight of me. I ducked out of my schoolbag and unzipped my jacket, shrugging out of it before planting a kiss on his lips and wrapping my arms around him. He pulled me tight as I nestled close.

  “I know I talk a lot about how hot you look in your uniform,” I said, my voice muffled by his shirt.

  “Almost constantly, actually.”

  “But that NWU sweatshirt and those jeans have never looked so good on you.” I let him go, backing up to take him in.

  Alex chuckled. “Don’t worry. I told the guys they’re not to call me tonight. Operation Date Night is a go.”

  “Good.” My shoulders scrunched up as I sat across from him. “I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”

  I usually wasn't this giddy over a simple dinner with my guy, but our schedules had been in conflict lately, causing us to cancel our last five dates. It didn’t help that my roommate and I were in the process of moving out of our apartment. All of it left me feeling lost, and a dinner with Alex was the grounding I needed.

  “I ordered us two chicken caprese rolls to start,” he said, taking my hand across the table. “How was class?”

  I shrugged. “Good, except Andrea went off about Heathcliff again right at the end.”

  “And you still made it here on time?” Alex’s eyes widened in surprise. He’d heard all about Andrea and her intensities over the last six months.

  “Yeah.” I waved a hand to dismiss his shock. “I told her that finding someone who was intense and brooding was one thing, but it mattered more what his heart was like, how he treated people.”

  Alex’s face softened. “Well put, Peps. And I’m sure she listened to you, right?”

  I tipped my head to the side. “I hope so. That girl is smitten, though. I caught her drooling over Cole again most of the night.”

  “Wait, isn’t this the same person you said got a restraining order against her last boyfriend?”

  “He got one against her,” I whispered as I leaned forward.

  “And the new object of her affection is Cole. Food drive, grew up around here, Cole?”

  I nodded, loving what a great listener Alex was. He paid attention to even my most insignificant cohort drama.

  “Has been since our first day of class. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she has a lock of his hair taped into one of her notebooks right now.”

  Alex cringed.

  “Yeah, she’s intense. Looks at him like he’s her next meal.”

  “Maybe she’s just guy crazy, always needs someone else to obsess about.” He shrugged.

  “She looks right past Devin, though. Won’t give him the time of day. That’s probably because he’s not loaded, living in a mansion overlooking the whole town like Cole.”

  “Wait, Woodcrest mansion? Up on the hill? That’s Cole’s family?”

  “Yup.” I took a sip of my water. “Though, he’s the only one who lives there year-round. His parents have a place in Italy, and his brother is… well, he’s the one Andrea should really be obsessed with. That guy is Heathcliff through and through: angry, always sulking around, and good at disappearing. No one ever quite knows where he’s at. After graduation, he left and only comes back into town every year or so, not that he talks to anyone while he’s here. Cole keeps their house running. He’s a good egg.”

  Alex shook his head. “That’s refreshing to hear. All the guys who lived in big mansions in my school were definitely not good eggs, and they’ve only gotten worse since we graduated.”

  The waitress came over carrying our appetizer. My stomach grumbled in anticipation. We each took a chicken caprese roll and started eating. Once our hunger was abated, we chatted until the waitress returned to take our entrée orders. But as I was about to tell her what I wanted, Alex’s phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. His body stiffened; he watched me.

  I raised one eyebrow.

  “It’s probably nothing.” He smiled as the buzzing stopped, but his shoulders remained rigid.

  I looked back at the waitress, ready to try again, when buzzing interrupted me a second time.

  My fingers pressed into my temples. “Seriously?”

  Alex took his phone out, his dark brows furrowing in interest.

  “Can you give us a few minutes?” I asked the waitress who nodded and scurried away. Then I turned to Alex, whispering, “Tell me that is not the station. It’s your night off. Over my dead body are you going to leave this restaurant.”

  Alex swallowed. “No, Pepper. Over someone else’s. There’s been a murder.”

  2

  The sights and sounds of the restaurant blurred into the background. Alex let out a resigned sigh and moved to stand.

  “I’m sorry.” He pulled out his wallet and dropped a few bills on the table. “Order anything.”

  “You want me to stay here?”

  He eyed the restaurant’s front door as if contemplating making a run for it. “Peps, I—”

  I interrupted him with a scoff. “Do you think because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, you can leave me behind?” I asked, using part of Jane’s iconic speech to Mr. Rochester—I mean, it worked for her…

  He ran a hand over his face. “I can drop you off at your apartment or the bookstore.”

  We both glanced out the nearest window. The falling snow thickened from icy crystals to large flakes.

  I tried Rochester next. “I have a strange
feeling with regard to you,” I quoted. “As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave, I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I'd take to bleeding inwardly.” I gave him one last pleading look as his phone buzzed with another message.

  Conflict wrote itself across Alex’s features. He looked from the phone to me.

  “I promise to stay in the truck.” I clasped my hands in front of me.

  “Okay,” he said. “But only because I’m heading in the opposite direction.”

  I kept all squeals of excitement inside. We paid for our appetizer and informed Mai that we wouldn’t be staying for dinner before trundling out into the snow.

  Alex and I buckled in silently. As he turned the truck on, my stomach growled a little, making me wish I’d thought to order an entrée to go. But Alex was driving fast and before long, we were turning onto the old highway, which led away from the university.

  “So what do you know so far?” I asked.

  “Frank told me to head north, toward the foothills. He’s going to text me the address here any second.” Alex pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. “In fact, would you watch for the text and tell me where to go once it comes through?”

  I nodded, my throat too tight to say anything more. Another murder in Pine Crest. A chill danced up my spine, and I held my free hand in front of the heating vent. The combination of the darkness, the truck’s headlights, and the big flakes of snow made it look like we were traveling through space at warp speed. When Alex’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, I almost dropped it.

  Alex kept his eyes on the snowy road as I righted the phone and clicked to read the text. It was from Frank, Alex’s partner. And even though it was only an address, nothing more, it made my stomach plummet to the bench seats of the truck.