Page 7 of Out to Get Her
The last thing either of them needed this week was trouble.
Erin had enough on her plate dealing with her grandfather’s death and clearing out that house without Adeline and the rest of town stirring up mess. And Samantha sure as heck didn’t need to clean up that mess.
It would be a lot easier if she could handle anything that landed Erin’s way quickly and quietly… before the whole town lit up like wildfire.
“I missed a signature on one of these statements,” she said, grabbing a random paper and holding it up for show. “I’m going to head out a few minutes early and take care of it on my way home.”
“A missed signature?” Dustin raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “Slipping there, Sergeant?”
She pointed at him on her way out. “Got some icing on your face.”
He wiped at his face as she waved goodbye to Connie and headed out the door.
* * *
Erin stood in front of the porch steps and stared at the big blue Acadian-style home. It looked the same on the outside, despite not seeing it in over five years.
Her grandfather had always kept up with the place until he couldn’t do everything himself anymore. By then, he’d built up enough good karma to have a line of volunteers willing to run a tractor over the field or fix a loose porch deck board or drag a dead possum out from under the house.
A tiny ping of guilt pricked at Erin’s gut for not being around to do some of those things, but she squashed that emotion like she always did. Grandpa Sonnier had insisted that it wasn’t her job to take care of him. It washisjob to take care ofheruntil she could fully take care of herself, and then she was her own responsibility.
Erin wondered when that day would come. Because she sure as hell wasn’t doing her end of the bargain. Not yet, at least.
And now she had to take care of… this.
Everything.
His house. His possessions. His bank accounts. His investments… did he even have investments?
Erin climbed the steps and stood on the solid porch. The place really was in good shape, considering its age.
A grotesque squawk rang out through the closed door and through the thick August evening air.
That bird.
She’d have an easier time finding a buyer for this house than finding someone to take that feathered hell-beast.
She fumbled for the right key and opened the lock. The knob was new, but it had been keyed to match the old lock. He could have just as easily given her a new key, but knowing him, he’d wanted to make sure she could get in any time she wanted or needed.
Bet he hadn’t planned for this, though.
Once inside, the memories hit her as hard as the scent of birdseed and feathers. She’d left town almost ten years ago. Five years since she’d been back at all. But she’d grown up here, lived in this place as long as she could remember. Not that she remembered much at all before the accident.
There was a before. And then there was an after. Here. Almost all of her memories were of Grandpa Sonnier and this house.
The bird squawked again. This time with a hearty, “McFlyyyyyy.”
Her trip down memory lane would have to wait, apparently. Just as well. She didn’t want to deal with anything else yet. It hadn’t been a long drive, but she was exhausted just stepping foot in this town.
Her stomach growled. Dang fire ruining her dinner options.
She headed toward the living room and found Marty McFly bobbing his head and pacing on his perch in excitement.
“Good to see you too, buddy.”
She stuck her finger near the cage, and Marty hobbled over and placed his beak around it, his tongue tasting her. He released and squawked, “McFlyyyyyy!!!”
Grandpa had always wanted a bird, and he’d been researching them for years before he found just the breed he wanted: a blue Quaker parrot. Once Erin had gotten her license and wasn’t around the house much anymore, he found one at a pet store in the city. To keep him company, he’d said. She always swore he got that thing just to piss her off, but she knew he loved it. More than her, she’d accused more than once. It was embarrassing to recall now because everyone knew that was a lie.
