Silent Neighbor (Sheila Stone #9)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ellen Reeves slammed the front door behind her, the sound echoing through the quiet suburban night like a gunshot.

"It's always the same," she muttered, striding down the neatly manicured path.

The cool air hit her flushed face, a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. She took a deep breath, drawing the crisp night air into her lungs, trying to calm the anger that thrummed through her veins like an electric current.

Marjorie's shrill complaints still rang in her ears, each word a dagger of resentment. "The roast is too dry, Ellen. The house is a mess, Ellen. When are you going to give me grandchildren, Ellen?"

She reached the end of the driveway and paused, unsure where to go. The street stretched out before her, a river of asphalt lined with identical houses, each one a mirror of her own suffocating life. Streetlights cast pools of amber light at regular intervals, creating islands of illumination in the sea of suburban darkness.

How had it come to this? How had her life, once so full of promise and adventure, been reduced to this monotonous existence?

Ellen's mind drifted back to the conversation that had changed everything, replaying like a movie in her head. She could see Troy, her husband, approaching her with that earnest look in his eyes, the one that always made her heart melt a little. His brow had been furrowed with concern, his voice soft but urgent.

"Mom and Dad are struggling, El," he'd said, running a hand through his hair in that nervous gesture she knew so well. "Dad's medical bills are piling up, and Mom can't manage on her own anymore. They need us."

She'd had reservations, of course. The thought of sharing their space with her in-laws had made her stomach churn, a visceral reaction she couldn't quite suppress. But Troy had been so sure, so convincing.

"It's only temporary," he'd assured her, taking her hands in his. "Just until we can figure out a better solution. And think of how much money we'll save on childcare when we have kids."

The promise of children, of building their family, had been the final push she'd needed. In that moment, staring into Troy's hopeful eyes, Ellen had seen their future unfold before her—a house filled with laughter, the pitter-patter of little feet, the joy of watching their children grow under the loving gaze of their grandparents. It had seemed like the perfect solution, a way to honor family while moving forward with their own lives.

So she'd agreed, pushing down the niggling doubt in the back of her mind, silencing the small voice that whispered of lost freedom and shattered dreams.

Now, six months later, that doubt had bloomed into full-blown resentment, a poisonous flower that threatened to choke out any remaining affection. Their lives had been put on hold, their dreams shoved aside to make room for Marjorie's china collections and Frank's medical equipment. The house that had once been their sanctuary, their own private world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in a little more each day.

Ellen walked along the garden, her fingers trailing over the flowers she'd planted in a desperate attempt to create some beauty in her shrinking world. The petals were soft beneath her fingertips, a reminder of the life and vibrancy she craved.

This wasn't the life she'd wanted, not even close. She and Troy were supposed to be traveling the world, seeking out new adventures, pushing their limits before they started trying to have children. They'd talked about climbing in Yosemite, trekking through Patagonia, maybe even tackling Everest one day.

Instead, they were trapped in an endless cycle of caregiving and compromise. Their evenings were spent watching game shows with Frank, their weekends consumed by Marjorie's endless lists of chores and errands. The climbing gear that had once been their prized possessions, symbols of their shared passion, now gathered dust in the garage, forgotten relics of a life that seemed increasingly distant.

With a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her soul, Ellen pulled out her phone. She needed an escape, even if just for a night. The weight of the device in her hand felt like a lifeline, a connection to the world beyond this suffocating routine.

She opened the group chat for her climbing buddies, her fingers flying over the keys with desperate energy. "Anyone up for a late-night adventure?" she typed, her heart racing with the possibility of freedom.

The response came almost immediately, the soft ping of the notification cutting through the quiet night. But as Ellen read the message, her heart sank. It wasn't what she'd hoped for, not even close.

"Ellen, didn't you hear about Jake and Brad? We should lay low for now. It's not safe."

Ellen frowned at the screen, the glow illuminating her face in the darkness. Of course, she'd heard about Jake and Brad. Their deaths had sent shockwaves through the climbing community, a brutal reminder of the risks they all faced every time they challenged the mountain.

But surely that was all the more reason to get out there, to live life to the fullest while they still could? Sitting at home, cowering in fear—that wasn't living. That was just…

Existing.

Ignoring the warning, Ellen made her way to the garage. The door creaked as she lifted it, the sound uncomfortably loud in the quiet night. She winced, half-expecting to hear Marjorie's voice calling out, demanding to know what she was doing. But the house remained silent, its occupants oblivious to her midnight escape.

The garage light flickered to life, revealing the cluttered space that now housed all her climbing gear. Boxes were stacked haphazardly, some still unopened from the day she'd had to move everything out here to make room for Frank and Marjorie. Her beloved climbing wall, once the centerpiece of their spare room, was now disassembled, its pieces leaning forlornly against the far wall.

Another small piece of her life, pushed aside, forgotten.

As she gathered her equipment, the familiar weight of the harness and the rough texture of the rope in her hands, Ellen's mind wandered to her last climbing trip. The memory made her cheeks burn with embarrassment, a flush of shame spreading across her face.

It had been a clear day, perfect climbing weather. She'd attempted a difficult route, one she'd bragged about conquering to her online followers. The climb had started well, her movements sure and confident as she'd ascended the rock face. But halfway up, something had changed. Maybe it was the wind, or a moment of vertigo, but suddenly the height had seemed overwhelming. Her nerve had failed her, panic setting in like a living thing, clawing at her chest and throat.

She'd frozen, unable to move up or down, her body trembling with fear. For what felt like hours, she'd clung to the rock, tears streaming down her face, until another climber had to talk her through the descent, guiding her movements with patient words and encouragement.

The video of her panic attack had gone viral in the worst way possible, spreading through the climbing community like wildfire. The comments had been brutal, questioning her skills and mocking her fear. Some had suggested she give up climbing altogether, that she was a danger to herself and others. She'd retreated from the online community, nursing her wounded pride in private, the harsh words echoing in her mind during sleepless nights.

But not tonight. Tonight, she was going to prove to herself—and to everyone else—that she was still a force to be reckoned with. She was more than just a caregiver, more than a disappointed wife or a failing daughter-in-law. She was Ellen Reeves, climber, adventurer, conqueror of mountains.

Her decision made, Ellen quickly packed her gear, the familiar routine bringing a sense of calm and purpose. She wasn't going to tell Troy or anyone else where she was going. Let them worry. It served them right for suffocating her dreams, for turning her into someone she barely recognized.

The drive to the nearby cliff was short, the roads empty at this late hour. As Ellen parked and began her hike to the base, a thrill of excitement coursed through her. This was what she'd been missing—the solitude, the challenge, the promise of conquest. The beam of her headlamp cut through the darkness, illuminating the path ahead, each step taking her further from the life she'd come to resent and closer to the person she used to be.

At the base of the cliff, Ellen set up her night-vision camera, positioning it carefully to capture her ascent. She wanted proof of this moment, evidence of her triumph over fear and doubt. Then, with practiced movements that felt both familiar and strange after so long, she began to climb.

She had climbed this section a number of times before, but always with ropes. This would be her first solo attempt.

The familiar strain in her muscles felt good, like awakening from a long slumber. The rock was cool and rough beneath her fingers, each handhold a small victory. She pushed herself harder, moving faster than was strictly safe, needing to prove her skill not just to others, but to herself.

Halfway up, disaster nearly struck. Her foot slipped on a loose bit of rock, sending a shower of pebbles cascading down the cliff face. For a heart-stopping moment, Ellen felt herself falling, the world tilting crazily around her. But her hands held firm, her upper body strength keeping her anchored to the cliff face.

She paused, heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat, before continuing her ascent with renewed determination.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, she reached the top. Exhausted but exhilarated, Ellen pulled herself onto the flat surface of the cliff top. She lay back, the rough stone cool against her overheated skin, and stared up at the star-studded sky.

So beautiful, and so very wild.

As her pulse slowed and the adrenaline began to ebb, Ellen's thoughts drifted back to her home situation. Maybe there was a better solution, a way to honor her commitment to Troy's parents without completely sacrificing their own lives. Maybe she and Troy could look into hiring a part-time caregiver, giving them some of their freedom back. They could start small—a date night once a week, maybe a weekend climbing trip once a month.

She felt a pang of guilt for leaving without saying anything. Troy would be worried sick if he woke up and found her gone. Despite everything, she didn't want to hurt him. He was trying his best, caught between his love for her and his duty to his parents. Maybe it was time they had an honest conversation about their future, about finding a balance that worked for everyone.

A noise startled Ellen from her reverie. It was faint at first, barely audible over the soft whisper of the wind. But as she strained her ears, it became clearer—a rustling sound, like movement. Maybe an animal nearby? In the darkness, her imagination conjured images of mountain lions or bears, their eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

Curious despite herself, Ellen rolled onto her stomach and crawled to the edge of the cliff. The rocks were sharp against her palms as she peered down into the darkness, her eyes straining to make out any movement in the shadows below.

For a long moment, there was nothing. Just the quiet night, the distant hoot of an owl, the gentle susurration of leaves in the breeze. Ellen was about to dismiss the sound as her imagination when she heard it again—closer this time, unmistakable. The scrape of boot against rock, the soft grunt of exertion.

Someone was climbing the cliff.

Ellen's heart began to race, a cold sweat breaking out across her skin despite the cool night air. Who could it be? Another climber, seeking the same late-night thrill? But why climb in almost complete darkness? It was reckless, dangerous.

Was someone following her?

"Hello?" she called. "Is someone there?"

No answer.

She strained her eyes, trying to see the climber, but it was too dark. She pulled out her flashlight and swept the beam along the cliff face. Still nothing.

Maybe they're on the other side, she thought.

She crossed to the opposite side of the cliff. She peered over, tracking the beam of the flashlight with her eyes. Nothing. Except—

Movement just below her caught her eye, and she swept the beam down. A figure was clinging to the rock face mere feet below her.

Her first thought was that he, like she, had gotten himself into a bad situation and was paralyzed with fear. She should offer a hand, help him up. Then, before she could act on this impulse, his own hand came up.

And clamped around her leg.

Before she could react, her leg was jerked out from beneath her and she stumbled, landing hard on a stone. She turned over on her belly, desperately reaching for something to grab even as the weight of her body pulled her over the edge.

Her hand brushed something—a shirt, a belt—but her fingers slipped before they could get a firm hold. She slipped down and down into darkness.

Into oblivion.