Westhill Drive

By David Campbell

Residents of an affluent neighborhood in Silicon Valley, California, are woken in the middle of the night by flashing lights and sirens. A neighbor has been murdered.

All fingers quickly point to next-door resident Mike Thomas, who does not want to disclose his shady past with the deceased. Soon Mike's life is turned upside down as skeletons come of out the closet and he is exposed for his indiscretions. While everyone in his life turns against him, Mike is the only one who knows he's innocent and being set up.

Now a desperate man is on the hunt to expose the truth and salvage whatever is left of his marriage, his career, and his freedom. Mike slowly realizes the boring neighborhood he once called home has a secret behind every front door.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Campbell
• Release date: Oct 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005402884

David Campbell

David Campbell was born in Los Gatos, California. After a typical 1980s childhood, he studied English and Creative Writing at Chico State University before acquiring a Master of Communication degree from Boston University. After another fifteen years cultivating a career in marketing among the Silicon Valley elite and publishing newsletters with five times the circulation of the New York Times, he decided to go back to his passion and just write. He hopes you enjoy reading what he wrote as much as he enjoyed writing it. He lives in Los Gatos with his daughter, Lilly.

Book preview

WESTHILL DRIVE

David Campbell

Westhill Drive

David Campbell

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and events are products of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any similarities to actual events, people, living or dead, are coincidental.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission by the Author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Edition: July 15, 2020

ISBN: 9798664176865

Printed in the United States of America

For Holly,

You’ve been the greatest sister, supporter, and friend.

I don’t know what I’d be without you in my life.

CHAPTER 1

It could have been a siren chirp or the murmurs through the window that woke Mike from his slumber. He slowly pulled down the sheets and listened intently, just to confirm he wasn’t dreaming. He sat up straight on the bed and gazed at the shimmering colors reflecting off the bedroom curtains. There was something going on in front of his house.

Mike glanced around at the empty bedroom and had almost forgotten Mara was out of town. He walked over to the view of the street below him. The cop car flashes were instantly recognizable, however for the neighborhood of Bellwood, these embers of red and blue were frankly disturbing to see. In the 15 years that Mike had lived there he had never noticed a police car on Westhill Drive.

Sure enough there was a commotion below, and a black-and-white police SUV was blocking the middle of the street. Everyone was in front of their homes, and why wouldn’t they be? When was the last time something exciting was going on in this neighborhood, especially at two in the morning?

Mike tossed on a sweatshirt and made his way to the stairway. He looked down the hall to Piper’s room and thought of waking her but decided to find out what the situation was first. After all, she had Stella over for a sleepover and they had probably been up past midnight.

Mike pounced down the stairs and through the front door. Now he had a full view of the entire street It looked like the block party from last summer. It seemed as if the neighbors were out and standing behind the police car, including random representatives of the Jackson, Young, and Clayden households. Next door to Mike’s house was the Coleman’s, another picture-perfect Cape Cod-style home with blue shingles on the windows. The only significant difference between their home and Mike’s was a second police car parked in their driveway.

Wendy, Mike whispered, thinking of the resident of the house.

Mike jogged through his front yard and stopped in the middle of the street as flashlights shined silhouettes through the Coleman’s darkened front windows. Mike turned to his right at Russ Young, Steve Jackson and Abby Clayden standing next to the police SUV. An officer was standing in front of the hood talking into his shoulder microphone.

Mike marched up to the neighbors while pointing at the SUV. What’s going on? After receiving only a few shrugs as answers Mike turned to the cop, who couldn’t have been older than the t-shirt he was wearing.

Sir, please stay behind the car until we have the situation under control.

Mike motioned towards the house. Situation? he snapped. What situation? That’s my next-door neighbor’s house.

The policeman was not impressed and spoke code into his walkie-talkie as he motioned Mike to step behind the car. Russ took Mike by the shoulder and waved the cop off. Russ was as big as a football lineman with a surfer haircut, not the normal look for the EVP of a public software company. Calm down, Mike, Russ whispered. We’ve got front row seats to see an actual domestic disturbance in progress.

Is that what’s going on? Abby wondered as she texted away on her phone. I’m giving the kids updates. Abby was in her robe and slippers, her curly blonde hair obviously teased up before she dared step foot out of her house.

Mike leaned on the trunk. How long you guys been out here?

Steve, who looked like a middle-aged Goofy in height and appearance, didn’t look away from the house. Five minutes or so. I was up and heard the cop radio as they passed my house. They must blast that shit when they leave the car.

Russ looked Abby over. Craving attention?

Abby, as usual, ignored Russ completely. You think Brad finally hit Wendy?

Maybe, Russ shrugged.

Mike peered hard at the house and listened intently as he tried to discern something from the cop’s conversation into his shoulder. Can’t be. Brad’s out of town.

Steve pointed to the Tesla in front of the house. Isn’t that his car?

Mike frowned. He told us he was in Seattle for the weekend. I’ve got Stella at my house tonight.

Was Wendy home?

Mike could barely hold back the confusion and panic surging up his spine. As far as I know, he muttered.

Daddy?

Mike turned and saw Piper and Stella slowly walk up to the SUV. Piper was fourteen going on twenty, and Stella was fourteen going on twelve. They had hit puberty at different times. Piper was five-seven with long brown hair and full build, too close to looking like a college student for Mike’s taste. Stella was on the shorter side and skinny, with cropped black hair and green eyes. One day she was going to be a looker, but she had certainly hit the awkward stage of adolescence.

Piper came right up to the group, but Stella stopped in the street and started slowly creeping towards her house. Mom? she wondered, almost pleading.

Mike ran up and pulled her close. Stella, hold on, kiddo.

The policeman pulled away from his perch against the hood. Miss, you’re a resident of this house?

Mike answered for the troubled teen. Yes, this is Stella Coleman. She was staying with us tonight.

Stay here, okay? We’ll need to speak with you.

Stella was almost crying. What is going on?

There’s a situation inside your house.

Another two cars rolled down the street and blocked the other end of the street. Two men exited one car, walked to the trunk almost in unison, and reached in. They pulled out large duffel bags, put plastic gloves on, and start to walk up the Coleman’s front porch.

A heavy Hispanic man and a pear-shaped black woman stepped out of the second car and approached the police SUV. I’m Detective Chavez, the man said as he shook the policeman’s hand. This is Detective Givens. Where we at?

The policeman motions for the two detectives to move away from the crowd of suburbanites looming behind them. They stepped back a few feet and he appeared to divulge the details while gesturing at the house and back at Stella. The detectives nodded and Givens glanced at the girl grasping onto Mike’s arm for dear life. Chavez walked towards the house as Givens approached Stella.

Hi there, Detective Givens said, with as soft a voice as could come from someone who looked like she had seen too much in her forty years. I’m Detective Givens. You live in that house there?

Stella’s grip on Mike’s arm started to tighten. Mike slid her under it. The detective noticed this and looked Mike in the eyes.

This is Stella Coleman and she does live there, Mike said. I’m her best friend’s dad. I live next door. Stella was with us tonight for a sleepover. She doesn’t know what’s going on.

Can I talk to you for a minute? Givens said to Mike, almost sighing as she stared at the grip the girl had.

Mike nodded and placed Stella’s grip on his daughter before moving with Detective Givens to the Coleman’s front yard. The front door was wide open and Mike could see commotion inside, making out four or five people walking back and forth. The living room light was now on. There were a few shouts from inside but Mike couldn’t decipher what was being said.

How well do you know the Colemans? Givens asked.

Mike tried to give Givens his attention as he continued to peer into the house. I live in the house next door.

You said that already.

Sorry. What’s going on?

Do you know the Colemans?

Mike shrugged. They’ve been my neighbors for as long as they’ve lived here.

How long is that?

Eight years, I guess. Maybe ten. My kid is her best friend.

You’ve said that already.

What the hell is going on? Did Brad beat Wendy up or something?

Givens looked behind her at the door and positioned Mike so his view was blocked. I’m sorry to tell you this, but there’s been an incident here tonight. Someone’s been murdered.

Mike stepped back. Who?

As if on cue, two policemen push a brooding, middle-aged man with dark blond hair and broad shoulders through the door. Unlike the rest of the neighbors, he wasn’t in his pajamas, instead dressed in jeans and a button-up shirt stained with blood. And unlike the rest of the neighbors, Brad Coleman was yelling and struggling as he was led in handcuffs to the police car in the driveway.

Dad?! Stella screamed as he thrashed across the front yard.

Brad and Mike caught eyes as he was being shoved into the backseat. There was fury and fire in them Mike didn’t recognize. Brad continued to stare coldly at Mike as the car backed up and drove off into the night.

Jesus Christ, Mike realized. Brad murdered Wendy.

CHAPTER 2

Nobody slept that night.

Mike was at the kitchen counter, sipping his fourth cup of coffee and refreshing the Mercury News home page every couple of minutes. Stella and Piper fell asleep on the couches in the living room around dawn. Mike promised to stay up and wake them if he heard from the police.

Stella was almost inconsolable, and it was no wonder why. How could anyone comfort a 14-year old girl whose father just murdered her mother? She practically chased the police car down Westhill Drive as they took him away.

While Piper and Mike attempted to calm Stella down Detective Givens gave her card to all the neighbors and asked the policeman at the SUV to take their statements. She asked Mike if they could continue the conversation at his house, and they practically had to drag a slumped-over Stella off the street.

Thank god for Piper, Mike reflected. She sat with Stella in the living room for a half-hour while the tears flowed. While the mourning continued, Mike and Detective Givens moved to the kitchen for a one-on-one.

Givens, who asked to be called Holly from then on, told Mike what she knew, which wasn’t much. There was a 911 call from the husband who was screaming his wife had been murdered. The police showed up to see the house in disarray and the husband in the bedroom with the victim. She was dressed in sleepwear – panties and a t-shirt. A kitchen knife was on the floor and she was covered in blood. Brad Coleman was pacing the room, confused and mumbling. The police couldn’t control him and he attacked one of the officers. Apparently that was why he was led away in handcuffs. They didn’t want him to disrupt the scene and he was being belligerent.

Better to have him in a controlled environment, Holly explained.

He has a temper, Mike sighed. Always had.

Mike was more than aloof about the matter and Holly had noticed. They had fights before. I mean, our houses are ten feet from each other. We could hear them at night sometimes.

And you didn’t hear anything tonight?

Mike shook his head and tried to dance around what was on his mind. So, is Brad not a suspect?

It’s too early to tell, Holly said as she glanced at her buzzing phone. That’s my partner, Paul. Looks like I need to get to the scene. I’ll still need to talk to Stella, but if she was here all last night it can wait until she’s had some rest. I’d rather talk when she’s less distraught. Will you watch over her tonight? We’ll call in the morning.

Mike showed Holly the door and spent the next few hours sitting on a chair while Stella ranted and cried. All he could say was nobody knows what happened and Stella was welcome to stay with them as long as she wanted. Mike quickly realized this consoling thing wasn’t his forte.

Now it was seven in the morning and he had left a text with Mara to call when she had time. She and Ethan, their 17-year old son, were back in Boston touring campuses. He wanted to go to Boston University, but she was trying to convince him on Boston College or Emerson. Either way, all Mike saw was dollar signs.

Mike didn’t explain in the text what exactly happened. He simply asked her to call him about a major incident in the neighborhood. He didn’t want to give away too many details. Text was too impersonal for that, and Mara was not too keen on the next-door neighbors anyway. Mike knew this and knew why, which is why he didn’t call Mara the second he found out about the murder. It wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to having.

After tiptoeing past the sleeping girls Mike opened the front door and stepped onto the front porch. There were two strange cars in front of the Coleman house and their front door was wide open. Across the street was a large news van with the number 7 logo blazoned on the side. Next to the van was a woman in an Anne Klein suit holding a microphone and chatting with a cameraman. They were either about to or had just done a live broadcast. Either way, Mike had no intention of being on television.

Mike’s phone buzzed and he looked at the display. Part of him wanted to let it go to voicemail but decided against it.

Hi, Mara.

I got your text. What’s going on?

There was nothing but silence on the other end of the line while Mike explained the last few hours. So Stella and Piper are asleep in the living room right now. I’m just waiting to hear from the police or news as to what‘s going on.

Wendy’s dead.

Mike stared at the eerily quiet house next door. Yeah. She’s gone.

I bet you’re all broken up.

Yeah, I am, Mike snapped. Our neighbor was murdered last night while our daughter slept in the house next door.

There was more silence on the other line, and then, Should we come home?

Mike thought about it for a moment. No, you and Ethan just do your thing. You’re seeing Boston College today, right?

Mara ignored his question. Keep me posted and have Piper call me when she gets up. I want to make sure she’s okay. There was an awkward silence on the line. Are you okay?

Mike was watching the news van pack up and pull away from the curb. I’m dealing with it. You should have seen Brad when they dragged him out. He looked insane.

When did you last see Wendy?

Mike rubbed his eyes in frustration. I don’t even know, Mara. A few days?

She didn’t bring Stella over?

These kids are 15 years old. They both have newer iPhones than me. I don’t even know who is coming and going half the time. I didn’t get home from work until seven last night and they were in front of the TV.

Okay, Mara interrupted. Sorry. I just…

Mike sighed. Mara was always so suspicious and jealous of Wendy. Brad had married a woman fifteen years younger than him, and she had kept her looks better than any 38-year old woman he knew. Mara, to her credit, had tried so hard to keep her figure and looks, but they were both on the wrong side of 40 and time was starting to crack the foundation of youth for her.

Mike wished that was all to it, but Mara had a right to be suspicious. At the block party last summer Wendy had gotten fairly tipsy and was flirting pretty heavily with every red-blooded male on the block. All the wives noticed, especially Mara. Especially when Wendy asked Mike if he would join her in their hot tub later. It didn’t help that Wendy didn’t work and lived, as Mike pointed out to Detective Givens, about ten feet away from their bedroom window.

Mike turned on the sympathy. I love you, Mara Thomas. I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that. How many times do I have to say it?

It doesn’t matter now anyway, does it? Mara said. She’s gone.

Mike’s phone beeped. It was a number he didn’t recognize but it presented a perfect opportunity to end this conversation. Babe, I got another call. I’ll have Piper call you when she gets up.

Mike quickly switched to the next call. It was Detective Givens.

Call me Holly, she reminded him. Listen, I’m having all the neighbors in today to give formal statements. I’d like to come to your house again to get your statement, as well as Stella’s and your daughter’s.

Whatever you need. I have a tee time at noon but I’ll cancel it. Mike started walking back toward the house. It’s Saturday, though. Don’t you work normal hours or something?

Crime never sleeps, Holly quipped. I’ve got a man in custody with an entire law firm about to come into the precinct to get him out, not to mention a murder in a prominent Los Gatos neighborhood. I’ll come by on my way home after talking to everyone. It’ll give me an excuse to get out early.

Mike agreed and looked around the street. He wondered who else would be spending their weekend at the San Jose police station.

With too much coffee and no sleep, the morning dragged by. Mike couldn’t work, couldn’t eat, and couldn’t focus. He was writhing with anticipation to find out what happened to Wendy and whether he could in any way be considered a suspect.

The girls woke up around the same time, and Wendy’s sister came in from Sacramento to be with Stella. She took Stella from the house around noon and said they would be in touch. Piper, for being a fifteen-year-old girl, was taking everything exceptionally well. Mike asked if she wanted to talk about it, but Piper seemed unnerved by the ordeal. They stuck around the house until Holly came by that afternoon.

Holly looked a little disheveled for being in the same outfit since three in the morning but was surprisingly alert and inquisitive. Being a warm spring day, Mike brought her to the backyard. He walked her to the patio next to the swimming pool. Behind them was a few trees casting a light shadow on the yard and helping block the McMansions on all three sides of them.

Holly took a seat away from the back door and Mike sat across from her. Where’s Piper?

Mike pointed up. She’s in her room, probably on TikTok or taking a selfie.

‘Your first teenager?"

Second. My son’s seventeen. He and my wife are in Boston looking at colleges.

Boys are so different than girls. I have two boys. I don’t think I could survive having a girl.

Mike looked up behind him to see if Piper was listening. They continued to chit-chat for a few minutes, and now and then Holly would scribble something down on a small notepad she had on the table.

What are you doing? Mike asked.

Just taking notes, she shrugged.

I’m being interrogated, Mike realized. Can you fill me in about what happened last night?

Holly sat back in her chair. I’ll tell you what I know if you tell me what you know.

Mike frowned. What do you mean? His mind was racing. Something wasn’t right. He was a smart enough man to realize she was suddenly trying to make him uncomfortable, but to what end?

He looked up to make sure Piper wasn’t eavesdropping again. He just wasn’t prepared mentally for Detective Givens, though he knew he should have been. Great, he thought, I am being totally paranoid.

Holly pointed to the first question on her list. Where were you last night?

I was here. With my daughter and Stella. We ordered a pizza. You can call the place. I have the charge on my credit card.

I believe you, she replied with a smirk. So you had pizza and what else?

I got home from work around seven. Piper and Stella were lounging around the living room binging some show. I was messing around the house. I was in the garage. I was in my office. I went to bed around ten or eleven. It wasn’t much of an evening.

What do you do for a living?

I’m in software sales. I work in Mountain View.

So you didn’t leave the house? I mean after you got home?

Mike didn’t even notice he had folded his arms. No, I didn’t leave the house.

Did you hear anything next door? A commotion? Yelling? Did you know Mrs. Coleman was home?

I didn’t know if she was home or not. I don’t keep track of her calendar. I assume she was home since she was murdered there. Speaking of which, what’s going on with Brad Coleman?

Holly jotted down another note and