My One and Only: A gripping psychological thriller Read online

  For family...

  Can't live with 'em;

  Can't live without 'em.

  Copyright © M.M. Boulder 2020

  The moral right of the author has been asserted (vigorously).

  All rights reserved. Published by Lone Ghost Publishing LLC,

  associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of

  Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.

  No part or parts of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (including via carrier pigeon),

  without written permission of the author and publisher.

  Author: Boulder, M.M.

  Title: MY ONE AND ONLY.

  Target Audience: Adult

  Subjects:

  Psychological Thriller, Domestic Thriller, Serial Killer Thriller

  This is a work of fiction, which means it’s made up. Names, characters, peoples, locales, and incidents (stuff that happens in the story) are either gifts of the ether, products of the author’s resplendent imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or dying, businesses or companies in operation or defunct, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Read more by M.M. Boulder

  Psychological Thrillers

  THE LAST DOOR

  MY BETTER HALF

  THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT

  MY ONE AND ONLY

  Writing as M.M. Crumley

  THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS

  BOOK 1: DARK AWAKENING

  BOOK 2: BONE DEEP

  BOOK 3: BLOOD STAINED

  BOOK 4: BURIAL GROUND

  BOOK 5: DEATH SONG

  BOOK 6: FUNERAL MARCH

  BOOK 7: WARPATH

  www.mmboulder.com

  FB

  M.M. Boulder

  MY ONE

  AND

  ONLY

  Chapter One

  "There's another one," Diana Flynn whispered into her phone.

  "Did you open it?"

  "No."

  "Damn it, Diana, open it," Diana's sister Beth commanded.

  "I don't want to."

  "So what're you gonna do? Just leave it on the porch?"

  "Yes."

  "Diana," Beth paused for effect, then hissed, "Open it!"

  "Fine. I'll call you back."

  Diana disconnected and stared at the red envelope sitting on her porch chair. It pissed her off that she was a grown woman who was scared of something as ridiculous as an envelope, but she was.

  She shuffled slowly forward, wondering just when he'd dropped it off. She always thought of him as a him even though the police had told her it could be anyone, a woman, a man, a neighbor, a stranger. Literally ANYONE.

  Had he watched her as she'd left for work and then scurried up onto her porch and left it? Had he swung by in the middle of the day, pretending to be a mailman or a delivery driver? Had he just been here? Would the envelope still be warm from his touch?

  She glanced across the street, searching for sinister faces, but no one was outside. And what would a sinister face look like anyway? Would he look like someone off the FBI's Ten Most Wanted list?

  Was he watching her right now? A shudder raced down her spine at the thought.

  "Buck it up, Diana," she whispered, straightening her shoulders. If he was watching her, she wouldn't let him see her scared. She hated being scared. It made her feel weak and out of control.

  She stalked forward, snatching the garish red envelope from the plush chair cushion, and ripped it open. She carefully pulled out the white paper from inside, gasping as something tumbled from the paper and landed with a squish face up on her freshly painted porch floor.

  "Holy frick!" she whispered, dropping the envelope and racing back to her car. She jumped inside, locked her doors, and pulled her phone out, frantically pressing the send key.

  "So?" Beth asked.

  "It's a goddamn ear!"

  "What?!" Beth shrieked.

  "An ear!"

  Diana nervously searched the area one more time, but she didn't see anyone she didn't recognize. Not that that mattered, she reminded herself. It could be anyone. But she certainly didn't know anyone who could casually stuff an ear into an envelope and drop it off on her porch.

  "Call the police," Beth ordered.

  "But Detective Allen said there's nothing they can do!" Diana hissed, feeling a fresh wave of helplessness.

  "Do it anyway! It's an ear, Diana! That's a crime! Surely now they'll do something."

  "I guess," Diana mumbled. Her stalker, Mr. X as Beth called him, had sent her some horrible things, but nothing as horrible as a human ear. Why would anyone do such a thing? It didn't make sense, and Diana desperately wanted it to make sense.

  "Promise me you'll call them," Beth demanded, interrupting Diana's train of thought.

  "Okay."

  "Now!"

  "Yes, now."

  "I'll be there in a minute, okay?"

  "Okay."

  Diana disconnected and tossed her phone onto her passenger seat. She banged her head wearily on the steering wheel, wishing it would just end, wishing she could undo whatever she'd done to attract this sick freak's attention.

  She started to call Detective Allen but pushed the end key before the call could connect. He'd told her time and again there was nothing he could do.

  "No crime has been committed," he had said. Over and over and over. Apparently leaving someone creepy notes didn't exactly qualify as a crime. Or it would, if they knew who was doing it and could actually charge him with harassment. But since they didn't...

  "If you knew who it was," Detective Allen had said, "things might be different. But since you don't..." He had shrugged and closed his notebook, handing her a card for a home security firm.

  If she called him now and he came over and it wasn't an ear... "Crap," she whispered. She was going to have to go check. Maybe she hadn't seen it right. Maybe it had been a trick of the light.

  She got out of her car and walked back up the sidewalk. Sweat pooled in her armpits and rolled down the side of her stomach. Her heart pounded anxiously. Her stomach felt putrid.

  She didn't want to make sure it was an ear. She didn't want to see what sick, repulsive note he'd sent with it. She didn't want to think about him standing on her porch, sitting in her chair where she drank her morning coffee.

  A gust of autumn wind tore across her porch, startling her. "Calm down," she whispered. "It's just the wind. He's gone. Long gone."

  She bent slowly over the pale object lying awkwardly on her lemon-colored porch floor. She didn't touch it. She didn't need to. It was a delicate shell shape, and the light tan color was broken by streaks of reddish brown. A shiny gold earring hung loosely from the thin earlobe, casting light beams on the floor. It was an ear. A goddamn human ear. On her freaking porch.

  She stumbled to the railing and puked all over her Dianthus flowers. The perfume of the Dianthus covered up the stench of her sick, and she stood there for a moment, trying to pretend it wasn't real. Then she pulled out her phone and called Detective Allen.

  "This is Allen."

  "This is Diana Flynn," she muttered, feeling foolish. "I'm so sorry; I know you said there's nothing you can do, but he left an ear this time. A human ear."

  "Sit tight," Detective Allen said. "I'm on my way."

  "Thank you." She suddenly felt absurdly grateful that Mr. X had finally crossed the line, that he'd finally committed a crime, a crime the police could actually investigate. Then she felt horribl
e for feeling grateful because someone, somewhere, was missing an ear. What if they were dead?

  She shuddered, imagining a faceless woman dead in a ditch somewhere, missing one ear. Was Diana next? Is that what he was saying? She was next, and soon she would only have one ear.

  She ran her hands over her ears, imagining how painful it would be to lose one. She didn't want to lose an ear. She didn't want to die. She still had too much to do, too much to experience.

  She paced to the other side of the porch, trying to ignore her panic. She didn't want to panic. She didn't want to be scared. She wasn't that woman. She'd never been that woman. She wasn't going to let him break her like this.

  It seemed to take Detective Allen forever. Diana knew it could only have been ten minutes, but ten minutes alone on a porch with an ear was forever.

  "Ms. Flynn," Detective Allen said as he stepped onto the porch. "So he sent another note, did he?"

  Diana nodded numbly.

  "What did he have to say this time?"

  "I didn't read it," she stuttered. "I'm sorry."

  "Doesn't matter. Let's see this ear."

  She pointed towards her chair. "It's on the floor there."

  She followed him as he walked over, stopping when he stopped, bending when he bent.

  He tilted his head slightly and said, "Sure looks like an ear."

  Diana almost rolled her eyes but stopped herself and murmured, "Uh-huh."

  Detective Allen pulled on a pair of latex gloves and poked the ear with his pencil. "Hum."

  "'Hum' what?" Diana whispered.

  "Bit bouncy for an ear."

  "Bouncy? What?"

  "In fact," he muttered, "I don't think it is an ear."

  "What?!" Diana snapped. "How can you say that? Look at it! It's an ear! A goddamn ear!"

  "Yes, yes; it is an ear," he agreed. "It's just not a real ear."

  "What?" Diana gasped. "What do you mean?"

  He picked up the ear and twisted it slightly in his hands. "Just as I thought. Rubber."

  "What?"

  "Probably came off a Halloween prop or something."

  "What?"

  He cast her a stern look. "Ms. Flynn, I know this situation is distressing for you, but the fact of the matter remains, there's nothing I can do for you. No crime has been committed."

  "I know; I'm sorry," Diana stuttered still staring at the fake ear in his hand. "But it looked like an ear. I mean, it IS an ear."

  "I realize that," he replied, dropping the ear on her chair. "But it's not. A simple examination could have told you that."

  "You wanted me to touch it?"

  "Obviously not if it was a real ear. That would contaminate the evidence, but it wasn't."

  Diana stared at him in disbelief. "How could I have possibly known the difference?"

  He sighed. "As I said, I understand this is distressing for you, but it's been going on for over six months now. I honestly don't believe you're in danger. Whoever it is is just having a laugh at your expense."

  "A laugh?" It wasn't funny. Ears and creepy letters weren't funny. Knowing he was watching her wasn't funny.

  "I know it seems bigger than that, but Ms. Flynn, I simply cannot continue to come over here every time your stalker leaves you a note. It's a waste of police resources. We need to be solving actual crimes."

  He smiled apologetically. "You do still have the number for the security company I referred you to?"

  Diana nodded.

  "Call them. Install some alarms, some cameras, some lights. Then put it all out of your pretty, little head. Okay?"

  Diana watched him walk back to his car and drive away. He'd basically just told her not to call him again. How was she supposed to have known it wasn't a real ear? It's not like she'd ever seen a detached ear before.

  She sat down in Matt's chair since the ear was on hers and stared at the paper on the floor. She picked it up, unfolded it with trembling fingers, and read the bold writing.

  "Roses are red.

  Just like your blood.

  Snowdrops are white.

  Just like your neck.

  Violets are blue.

  Just like your bruises.

  This ear is dead.

  So are you."

  Chapter Two

  Diana stared at the emotionless, black words with horror. It wasn't the first time he'd mentioned her death, but every time he did it made her feel cold all over.

  Did he fantasize about killing her? Was he planning to kill her, or was Detective Allen right? Was Mr. X just having a laugh at her expense?

  But why? She was a relatively nice person. She smiled at people, asked about their day, listened to their replies. She wasn't an angry driver or a pesky neighbor. She was nice. So why did Mr. X hate her? Why had he picked her? Why her?

  She crumpled the note in her hand. Mr. X may hate her, but she hated him more. She tried to remember life without him, but she couldn't. He'd been leaving notes on her porch for six months now.

  One time he'd said that the dress she'd worn the day before made her look like a fairy. Another time he'd said he wished he was her shoes so he could support her all day. And yet another time he'd said he wondered what her skin looked like underneath.

  He'd said so many things. Some of them slightly creepy, some just mildly strange, some so horrifying they gave Diana nightmares. But all his words were stuck in her head, turning over and over and over, day after day.

  Diana sighed heavily. She didn't believe Detective Allen. She didn't think she was safe. She didn't think she'd ever be safe as long as Mr. X was out there. But the police clearly couldn't help her, and she didn't know what to do.

  A car screeched, and Beth pulled off the road next to Diana's driveway. She ran up the sidewalk, glanced around, then looked back at Diana.

  "Where's Detective Allen?"

  "Gone," Diana replied with a shrug.

  "Gone?! Why?" Beth pulled her wild hair back, wrapping it in a bun and clipping it there. "Why isn't he here?"

  "It's rubber," Diana said, pointing at the ear still on her chair.

  "Are you serious?!" Beth exclaimed.

  "Yep. A damn rubber ear. No ear, no crime, no Detective Allen."

  "Well shit." Beth leaned against the porch railing and stared at Diana. "Did you ask him to question Sean?"

  Diana shook her head. "You know I can't do that."

  "Why not?"

  "There's not a shred of evidence that points to him. And besides, why? Why would Sean do something like this?"

  Sean was a lot of things. He was stubborn, and he refused to bend in any way whatsoever. He was arrogant and rude, and he never offered comfort when it was needed. But a stalker? A creepy, rubber-ear-leaving stalker? She didn't think so.

  "Come on, Diana. I know you look at Sean with rose-colored glasses, but he's the most obvious suspect."

  Diana snorted. If she was still wearing rose-colored glasses she'd hate to see how he really was.

  "The letters started coming right after you and Matt got engaged," Beth continued.

  "So what? Sean and I have been divorced for four years. I haven't even seen him. Why would he care?"

  "Because he liked to control you, and you're finally moving on," Beth insisted.

  Diana shook her head. "I don't see it. And in any case, there's no evidence. The police can't just go knock on Sean's door and ask him if he's stalking me. Okay?"

  "Well somebody should!"

  "It's alright," Diana lied, trying to calm Beth down. "Detective Allen doesn't think I'm in any real danger. He said it's gone on for too long for that, so I'm just not gonna worry about it."

  "Really?" Beth's voice was full of disbelief, and her eyebrow was cocked questioningly.

  "Seriously. I've been letting this freak consume my thoughts and everything. I've barely started planning for the wedding. I've been distracted at work. I've worked too hard to let him take all this away from me. No, Beth, I'm done. I'm not thinking about him for one more second."


  "You realize that doesn't mean he'll stop?"

  "Yes, Beth, I get that."

  Beth didn't speak for a minute, then she said, "You look beat, little sis."

  "Nah, just... I don't know... deflated, I guess. I mean for a minute there I got all excited thinking he'd finally crossed a line, but... he hadn't. Not that it matters, 'cause I'm not thinking about him."

  Diana sighed deeply and carefully picked up the fake ear, shoving both it and the letter back into the blood red envelope. "I'm sorry I bugged you for nothing," she said.

  "Oh, you didn't bug me. I'd just gotten home. It's my turn to cook, but now I don't have to." Beth laughed softly. "Come back with me for supper," she invited.

  "Nah; I got work to do." Diana bit her lip to keep from telling Beth about the Karcher job. She wasn't sure she wanted everyone knowing yet. It was a huge project, and she was in charge of it. "Thank you though," she added.

  "We haven't seen much of you lately," Beth said, pouting comically. "We miss you."

  "I miss you too," Diana said. "I'll make time to come by this week. Between Mr. X and trying to figure out a date for the wedding I've just been a little stressed."

  "Eat some supper, take a bath, and go to bed," Beth said, hugging Diana and kissing her head. "I'll call you later."

  "Thanks for coming. Love you."

  "Love you too, little sis."

  Beth walked back to her car, waved, and drove away.

  Diana watched her go, feeling kind of foolish for panicking. It seemed like she was always panicking anymore, and she hated it. She'd been doing so much better.

  She unlocked her door and walked inside. She locked it behind her, sliding the deadbolts and fixing the chains. Then she opened her hallway closet door and dropped the note on top of all the other ones he'd left her. She wandered into the kitchen, turned on her coffee pot, washed her hands, and sat down at the bar.

  She listened to the coffee drip into the pot. The smell soothed her. It always made her feel like she had just walked into her grandpa's machine shop. Like she was safe. Like she was young and full of potential again.