Page 13 of Sour Layer

Ha! Tell yourself another lie, lady. Even not having met the dad yet, I could tell Clark got his smarts and his attitude from the woman walking next to me.

“You have to understand that we’re protective of the people in our town,” Dorothy said. “If I thought you were here to hurt anyone, I never would have showed you the cemetery.”

“I can appreciate that. There have been times when silence meant the difference between life and death for the women I help.”

“The way my momma told me, Maxine was a pistol and would have done anything to protect her family. Even killed to keep their secrets. She didn’t trust anyone.”

“She must have trusted your mother.”

Dorothy’s lips twisted. “My family founded the area. Even though the Bennetts kept to themselves, we still considered them part of the community and watched out after them. They were our neighbors and our friends. That’s why the town is so closed off to strangers. Through the years, the Bennetts came off the mountain more and more and integrated with our community.”

“Did Maxine have kids?” I asked, following Dorothy into the inn and directly into her kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee made me salivate. “If Maxine’s children had kids, then it’s possible there might still be some around. Do you know if there are more Bennetts up on the mountain?”

“On the mountain?” Dorothy shook her head. “No, I don’t think there are any living up there. The cabin and homestead have sat vacant for years. We check in on the place from time to time to make sure no bears have destroyed the property and there aren’t any vagrants hiding out up there.”

“That would suggest that you care there’s a home to come back to.”

Dorothy smiled as she poured her coffee. “Yep. That would suggest we care about the place and the former occupants. So that the family will have someplace to visit.”

I smirked. “I knew it. Therearemore, and you know who they are and where to find them.”

“You will, too, soon enough. We Weller women keep our word. That I can promise.”

I shivered in excitement. This was the closest we’d come to finding out more about this part of the family line in a long time. If it weren’t for proof about the Talia look-alike, we might have given up. “So, tell me.”

“Dinner is at seven. We’ll talk about it then in case you want to go rest up.”

“Thanks.” I headed toward my room. The thought of that poor family with those dead parents and missing kids made my heart ache. They looked like any suburban family in my neighborhood back home.

If Clark found the dead parents, I’d come back to help figure out how they died and who killed them. It was the least I could do to help those girls find some peace in the wake of the violence their parents must have suffered.

I slid my key into the lock and turned the knob. Stepping into the room, I slid to a stop, and my mouth parted.

A stranger who wasn’t so much of a stranger sat on my bed; her feet propped up. She cradled the cast of our ancestors’ plastered handprints in her arms. Everything else in my suitcase had been taken out and discarded on the bed.

“I hear you’re looking for me,” the Talia look-alike said.

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