Page 80 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

At Alvin Kercher’s place, he appreciated the strawberry ice cream but swore up and down that he didn’t know anything about a blog.

“That online stuff isn’t for me. I keep things simple and read my newspaper, still delivered to my door for twenty years.”

Daniel believed him.

“What now?” Rowan prompted, standing in the middle of Alvin’s front lawn.

He scanned up and down the street, then focused his gaze on one house in particular. “Who lives across the street?”

“Um, let me think. Tansy Perkins. Tansy had a minor stroke before Christmas—if there is such a thing—and her daughter came up from Orange County to get her to physical therapy twice a week. Julie, I think that’s the daughter’s name. I met her briefly back in December. She’s been living here with her mother ever since.”

“Well, Tansy or Julie has the perfect angle for spying on the Dewhurst house. Check out the sight line.”

Rowan tracked Daniel’s eyes to a well-kept ranch-style bungalow. “Look at that. Someone’s peeking out behind the shades now.”

“Perfect time to knock on the door. We know they’re home,” Daniel reasoned, sauntering across the street.

She trailed after him empty-handed. “We’re out of ice cream.”

But Daniel had already bounded up the steps to ring the bell. When Julie answered, he went into his pitch. “Hi. My name’s Daniel Cardiff. My house is on the next street over. But you probably already know Rowan Eaton from across the street. She’s Lynette Dewhurst’s granddaughter. We’re looking into a message sent to a blog about Hallie Snelling, a little girl who supposedly drowned back in 1999 in a boating accident. Would you or your mother happen to know anything about a message sent to Will Snelling?”

Julie let out a sigh. “I told my mom it was a mistake, that someone would eventually take her seriously and come knocking. But she wouldn’t listen. You might as well come in. This could take a while.”

Julie motioned for them to take a seat on the couch. “Do you want anything to drink? Water? Coffee?”

“Not for me, thanks,” Rowan said, glancing around the room. “Is your mother the one who called the police on Gran for not mowing her grass two years ago? I’m pretty sure Gran mentioned your mother’s name when she told me what happened.”

“In my mother’s defense, she hadn’t seen your gran for a couple of days and thought she’d died or something. Look, I know my mom has always liked to butt into other people’s business. She’s one of those nosy neighbors who drive people nuts. But she means well. She looks out for everyone on the street. Since her mini stroke she’s been like a dog with a bone. She gets an idea in her head, and she won’t let it go. She nagged me about emailing that guy’s blog for weeks, but I wouldn’t do it. Then she made me show her how to log in and sign up so she could.”

“But why?” Rowan asked.

“Mom never really liked your grandmother.”

“Really? Why not?”

“It goes back years. Mom said the way she felt stemmed from something that happened a long time ago, something your grandparents did.”

“To her?”

“She won’t tell me that.”

“Then can I ask her?”

“You’re not planning on letting this go, are you?” Julie asked.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

“Fine. Let me see if she’s awake.” Julie left them alone while she went down the hall and knocked lightly on the bedroom door.

A few minutes later, she came back. “Mom says she’ll see you both. But don’t get her overly excited.”

When they entered the room, Tansy sat in a comfy-looking upholstered chair with a blanket over her lap. She wore her white hair pulled back into a neat bun. Her eyes followed Rowan into the room.

“Hi, Mrs. Perkins, I’m Rowan Eaton. Remember me from across the street? The Dewhurst family.”

“You’re not Rowan Eaton. You’re Hallie Snelling.”

Rowan looked around for a place to sit and decided she’d kneel down in front of Tansy to make eye contact. “That’s just it. I’m not Hallie. I wanted to tell you that myself. But then I’m not really Lynette’s granddaughter either.”

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