Page 26 of Little Stolen Memories

Dorothy gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Why?”

“The victims’ parents deserve to know why their children were murdered. I’m hoping to solve the case and bring closure to everyone involved.”

“I think it’s a marvelous idea. Whose idea was it to reinvestigate?”

In the interest of protecting Cora and the fact she was back in town, I said, “One of the original detectives who worked on the case came out of retirement about a year ago. He asked the chief if he could look into it again, and since there are no other homicide investigations going on right now, his request was granted.”

“I see. How do you fit into the mix?”

“My agency has agreed to consult on the case.”

It wasn’t the full truth, but it seemed convincing enough.

“And this pertains to my brother how?” she asked.

“Your brother was living in a cabin close to the crime scene.”

“I remember. Detectives spoke with him a few times. Don’t think he was much help.”

“I’m hoping if I talk to him he might recall something now that he didn’t back then, something to help us solve the case this time.”

Dorothy went quiet for a moment and then said, “I don’t think he’ll agree to talk to you, but I suppose it’s worth a try. I’ve thought about those poor kids a lot over the years, and I’ve wondered how their families are doing. I imagine it’s hard to go on living when you’ve lost a child.”

It was.

A fact I knew all too well.

“Do you live with your brother?” I asked.

“Oh, no. We could never share the same space. We tried it once before. It didn’t work. I’m a minimalist, and he’s … well, a hoarder. A clean hoarder, but a hoarder all the same. He lives a few doors down from me, which is the perfect arrangement. We both enjoy our personal space, but we do get together for dinner and that sort of thing.”

She gestured for me to follow her. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to his place.”

I drove around the corner, parking in front of a newer fifth-wheel attached to a large pickup truck. Danny may have been a hoarder, but the exterior of his place was well kept. There was a flower garden out front, and I didn’t spot a single weed in sight.

Dorothy hopped off her bike, and we walked together to the front door. She knocked, and we waited. Danny opened the door, beer in hand. He took one glance at me, and his eyes widened. He looked to be in his mid-sixties, and he had salt-and-pepper hair, which was slicked back. He was an attractive man, though a bit on the rugged side.

Addressing his sister, he said, “Who’s this, Dorothy… a friend of yours?”

“Nope, we just met. She’s here to see you.”

He took a step back, set his beer on a nearby table, crossed his arms, and said, “Why?”

“You remember those poor dears who died some twenty years ago?” Dorothy asked. “The ones who were murdered at the cabin?”

“What about them?” he grunted.

“The case was never solved.”

“I’m aware.”

“It’s a shame, don’t you think?”

“Get to the point, sis.”

She lifted her chin in my direction. “This here is Georgiana Germaine. She’s a private eye, and she’s just informed me that the cabin murder case has been reopened. Can you believe it … after all these years? Maybe there’s a chance it’ll be solved this time. Imagine what peace it would bring to the families.”

Danny bent over at the waist, placing both hands on his legs as he struggled to catch his breath.

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