Page 35 of Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

“My family had one nearly every year,” the police chief said. “Our church had a photographer come every fall to get photos for the directory. People were big into family photos around here back when I was a kid, and I know my parents had multiple years’ worth of photos from when we were in school.” His mouth quirked to the side. “I realize your mother was a good twenty years older than us, but if this was truly their last family photo, then it might mean something.”

Belinda gave him a long look. “Do you know anything about Magnolia’s mother’s family?”

He hesitated. “I confess, I don’t. I knew this property was out here and was abandoned, but I didn’t know who owned it.” Then he added, “While Sweet Briar only has a little over two thousand residents, the city limits extend out into quite a bit of farmland. I know a lot of residents, but I don’t know them all, and to the best of my knowledge, surprisingly kids don’t use this place as a party place. Otherwise, I’d know more about it.”

Belinda nodded, then stayed me with a warning look. She was probably worried I’d snap and accuse him of hiding information so we’d hire his girlfriend, but I was fairly sure he was on the up and up.

“I’m gonna take this with me,” I said as I propped it up against the wall next to the open door. “Let’s see if we find anything else.”

We went into the kitchen, which was in much better shape than the living room but was covered in a thick layer of dust. It was small and the cabinets and appliances looked like they’d been installed many decades ago. There were some small, ancient-looking appliances on the counter along with some Tupperware canisters. A Tupperware salt and pepper shaker set sat on the round Formica kitchen table, and the avocado-green vinyl upholstery on the metal-framed chairs was in better shape than anything in the living room.

“It looks like a time capsule,” Belinda said. “Like people were here one minute and gone the next. Kind of apocalyptic.”

I shivered. She was right.

“Do you want to look around in here?” Chief Montgomery asked.

Belinda walked over to the cabinets and opened a few doors, then drawers, stopping at the junk drawer. “Just plates and glasses…the usual kitchen stuff. Nothing exciting in their catchall drawer.” She looked over at me. “Do you want to take a peek?”

I shook my head. “I’m good. Let’s check out the other rooms.”

The police chief led us down a short hall, then shined his flashlight into the windowless bathroom, which was covered in pink tile. I stood on the threshold and took in the sight. A couple of tiles had fallen off the shower wall, and there was plenty of dust, but otherwise, it was unremarkable.

Stepping back into the hall, I said, “I wonder if the person interested in buying this place plans to remodel or bulldoze it.”

“You have a potential buyer?” Chief Montgomery asked.

“So the attorney says. But I wanted to see it before I let it go.”

“Sounds reasonable,” he said as he walked to the next doorway.

“You really don’t have to babysit us,” I said.

“I don’t mind, Ms. Steele.” He flashed a grin as he paused on the threshold. “Gives me an excuse to insist one of my other officers be on standby for the woodworkers’ meetin’.”

“You have officers manning a woodworkers’ meeting?” Belinda asked in surprise.

“Just this particular meetin’,” he said. “Two of the members are currently feudin’ and haven’t seen each other since their last altercation. We’re just bein’ proactive.”

“Sounds like a colorful town,” I said, then realized it sounded bitchier than I’d intended.

He laughed. “It definitely is. Too bad you didn’t make it to the Boll Weevil Parade last spring. Quite the excitement.”

I laughed too, surprised when it bubbled up. “I’m kind of sorry I missed it.”

I’d been in the middle of my mess when they’d invited me to be the guest of honor last spring. Part of me couldn’t help wishing for an alternate reality where I’d gone, and that my real world hadn’t crashed in on me.

“There’s always the Thanksgiving Parade,” he said, taking a step back from the doorway. “I’m sure Mayor Sterling would be happy to re-extend the invite.”

I grinned. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

Then I stepped into the room.

It was a girl’s bedroom—two girls, based on the two twin beds and the very different decor on both sides of the room. One bed was covered in a light lavender bedspread and had photos strewn across it. The yellowed tape on the wall suggested they’d once hung there and had fallen down sometime over the past few decades.

The other side had a white chenille bedspread, with what looked like velvet blacklight posters of horses on the walls. A few stuffed animals were scattered on the bed. The window had broken, but a vinyl blind covered the opening and was secured at the bottom. Several slats were missing, the broken pieces on the floor, but a large tree outside the window provided shade, which must have been why the bedspreads had been spared the sun damage we’d seen in the living room. A single dresser was placed opposite the window, next to the lavender bed.

“That must have been Lila’s,” Belinda said, gesturing to the lavender bed. “And the other side was her sister’s. I can’t see Lila having posters of horses.”

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