The Neighbors from Hell

Once before, on my own blog, I talked about my creepy redneck neighbors. The ones who built a huge bonfire in their backyard a day or two after they moved in, backed a pickup truck up to their fence, and danced in the bed to music blaring from the radio. They disturbed the entire neighborhood and nearly caught the pine trees on fire. I should’ve known living next to them would be hell.

The folks who’d lived there before (and built the house) had kept the place spotless. They were quiet and unassuming, and never made a fuss. I wish they’d never left, because for the next seven years, cars and trucks came and went at all hours of the day and night. Made me suspicious about what the new neighbors were doing. They enclosed the garage right after moving in, and more people showed up with boxes of belongings. I had no idea who actually lived there, and who was just visiting. One time, what looked like a whole family moved out, and then several other people moved in. Talk about confusing…

The neighbors weren’t very friendly, either. I never knew their last name/s, even though I introduced myself a time or two. They basically ignored us, and we ignored them—despite the junk and old cars parked all over their lawn. They once parked a trailer containing a truck someone had fixed up next to their house and left it there for weeks. Then they left a broken washing machine in the same place for months before hauling it away, and later did the same thing with an enormous old style big screen TV. Car parts and tires littered the ground around it.

Then year or two ago, they bought a four-wheeler and rode it fast up and down the street and all around their backyard, turning it into a mud pit suitable for pigs. They started driving their trucks back there, too, mud riding around the pine trees and spinning in crazy circles.

By then, we lived in the city—the newest city in Mississippi, to be exact (at least for a while)—and unfortunately for us, since the city was so new, the aldermen hadn’t yet enacted any ordinances. Once they did, I complained about the rednecks, as did the rest of the folks on my street. By then, we were all outdone with their insane antics and all night free-for-alls. The city sent them certified letter after certified letter, but kept sending them to the wrong address. Took ’em a while to get it right.

A short while later, the rednecks took their toys and moved someplace else. I have no idea where they went, and frankly, I don’t care. They left the house and yard a wreck, of course—and left the side door wide open. We poked our heads inside and nearly got sick. The place reeks! They had kept two huge dogs inside, and I figure they let the animals have the run of the place. Garbage is strewn around in every room, and they even tore out some of the nasty carpet, leaving only the concrete slab, and threw the carpet and pad in the backyard. Such a lovely addition to the trash heap already out there.

We found out later the bank has foreclosed on the house but now can’t find the idiots so they can complete the paperwork. The city is waiting to take action as well. We need them to get it all straight so they can change the locks and clean up the place. IMHO, they’ll have to gut it and start over from the studs up. Just hauling off all the trash from the yard will take a huge dump truck.  We’ve had to call the cops several times since they moved out because the door won’t lock and keeps blowing open. Either that, or animals or people are going inside. The idea creeps me out.

Have you ever had neighbors you wanted to send packing? Please tell me your horror stories about creepy neighbors.

My book coming out next month isn’t about redneck neighbors, but it does center around a villain nobody would want in their neighborhood. The book is called Blood Bound, and it isn’t for the faint of heart. Hope you’ll check it out!

Blurb:

Fueled by grief after his fiancée is brutally murdered, Detective Sam Walker focuses on finding her killer — a calculating predator who binds books with human skin.  Dani Barrington, the newest member of NOPD’s Victim and Witness Assistance Unit and a survivor of another frightening attack, helps him discover the terrifying link between the monster’s known victims.  Despite his anguish, Sam is struck by Dani’s strength and determination, especially when her inquisitive  nature makes her the killer’s next target.  He must find a way to protect her or risk losing the one woman who can bring his dead heart back to life.

Excerpt:

Kristen was gone. She wasn’t at work; she wasn’t at home. She hadn’t gone out to run an errand. She had simply… vanished.

New Orleans Detective Sam Walker stood in the center of his fiancée’s cluttered bedroom and struggled to piece together the timeline of her disappearance. Last night, they were supposed to meet for dinner, but he had caught a case. They’d talked on the phone around eleven, and he’d asked her to meet him for lunch today. He hadn’t spoken to her since.

She was supposed to arrive at the Victim and Witness Assistance Unit for work at nine o’clock is morning, but she’d never made it. One of her co-workers had called him about ten, and he’d tried Kristen again, but she hadn’t answered.

So he’d come here and found her car in the driveway.

Yet she sure as hell wasn’t here. Her bed was meticulously made, the way she left it every morning, dumping him out if he’d stayed over. A damp towel lay beside the bathroom sink. Soulful jazz drifted from the iPod dock on her nightstand. What terrified him most, though, was the spot of blood marring the door frame and the lone pink sandal lying in the living room floor beside her purse, keys, and cell phone.

His heart lurched. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Simply could not absorb that she was missing. They’d been engaged for five months and three days, with only a month to go until the wedding. They should be mulling over the guest list, squabbling about which hotel to pick for their honeymoon, and deciding where they wanted to live.

Instead, Sam stared at an empty bed.

“There’s no sign of forced entry, so she either let the guy in or he jumped her when she went after the paper this morning.” Major Sabbatini’s voice seemed to come from far away. “I’m thinking she fought him off and ran, and he caught her here in the bedroom.”

“She would have clawed him.” Hell, she would’ve drawn blood with those nails. Sam should know. He had the marks on his back to prove it. Moisture blurred his vision as he eyed the smudge on the door jamb. “She… she just had her nails done a couple of days ago. They’re like talons.”

“We’ll check that blood for DNA. You know that. What were her plans for today?”

“Um… just work, far as I know. She and I were supposed to have lunch.” Sam shook his head. “Then tonight, she was going to a wedding shower. I just—”

“When was the last time you spoke with her?”

“Late last night.” Sam’s eyes fell on a partially filled mug on the table beside Kristen’s favorite chair, where she liked to read, and a hard knot formed in the center of his chest. “She didn’t… didn’t… even finish her coffee. She loves coffee.”

“We’re gonna find her, son.”

“You don’t know that.” Sam’s voice cracked. He turned to his boss. “What if I never see her again?”