“Damn it.”
Scared, furious, Paisley marched up the steps. She jammed the key into the lock and, swearing a blue streak, cast a hunting look around. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she scooped up the new package and hustled inside.
The moment the door shut, her adorable mess of a mutt was on her, joyfully barking hello and trying to climb her so he could lick her face.
“Okay, okay. Down, Duke.”
She managed to dump her purse and both boxes on the entryway table so she could rub down her ecstatic pooch. He immediately rolled to his back, giving her his long stretch of belly for attention. Well accustomed to this routine, she scrubbed him from head to tail.
“Want a cookie?”
Duke leapt up.
“Let’s go get a cookie.”
The dog scrambled ahead of her, his paws slipping and sliding on the hardwood floor as he raced for the kitchen and the treat bucket. She snagged the new package and carried it with her.
Duke inhaled the peanut butter biscuit before finally flopping down to stare up at her in adoration, baseball bat of a tail sweeping the floor. She’d be able to actually do something now.
Studying the latest arrival, she took in the brown paper wrapping. Exactly as the one before. But unlike that one, this hadn’t been shipped and dropped off by a delivery service. There was no address at all, just her name neatly printed on the top.
Someone had brought this in person. To her house.
Retrieving her phone, she snapped pictures from all sides, just as she had of all the others. For a few seconds, she considered calling Joel to apprise him of the latest and ask if he could try to lift prints. But she knew there’d be none other than her own. She wasn’t even sure brown paper would hold fingerprints.
Ripping the paper with perhaps more violence than necessary, she tore into the package. They’d found nothing special in any of the others. Why should this be any different?
Inside, nestled in plain white tissue paper, was a dog collar. With trembling hands, she lifted it out. Made of a bright red, woven nylon, the buckle-style collar was utterly innocuous. Digging into the tissue to see if there was anything else, she heard something thunk to the bottom of the box. Pulling out the tissue entirely, she found a metal tag in the bottom. She started to reach for it, then stopped herself to go retrieve a pair of tweezers. Lifting it out by the edge, she turned it over to read what was embossed in the metal: GEORDI.
Paisley’s blood ran cold. Why would someone send her a collar with the name of the blind dog from one of her books? Was it a threat to Duke? She posted about him on social media all the time, so it stood to reason this person knew about him. And they’d been to her house to drop this off.
It wasn’t an indictment by itself. But it felt too personal. If it had been a true fan gift of some kind, it would’ve been accompanied with a letter or note or something. Instead, it was just the collar, without even the usual card printed with Your biggest fan, leaving her to draw her own conclusions as to the message.
Paisley had a very, very vivid imagination, and her mind had extrapolated all kinds of horrors before her fingers even closed around her phone. Worried and a little sick, she scrolled to the right contact and hit dial.
Exhaustion and irritation dogged Ty as he stopped at the head of his driveway to grab the mail. Darkness had fallen, and the cold chill of winter in east Tennessee nipped at the exposed skin of his face and hands. It was nothing compared to the winters in Afghanistan and some of the other hellholes where he’d served.
Tossing the mail onto the front seat, he continued down the gravel drive, parking the cruiser next to his truck in front of the tiny cabin he called home. In the normal course of things, the place was one of his friend Porter’s vacation rentals. He’d offered it up when Ty had taken the job as Stone County deputy. Grateful to have one less decision to make, Ty had jumped at the offer. He’d meant it to be temporary, until he’d settled into the job, proved he could hack it as a civilian. Somehow, he’d never left.
He liked the solitude of living this far out from town, more than a mile from the nearest neighbor. And really, he didn’t need more than the open-plan living space with a sleeping loft. It was just him. He had nobody to impress. But a vague, nagging sense of disappointment trailed him through the cabin as he went through the motions of starting a fire in the wood stove and stripped out of his uniform in favor of jeans and a flannel shirt.
Pausing behind the sofa, he glanced around.
The place felt empty. There was nothing of him here. No pictures, no signs of hobbies or interests. If he packed up his clothes and the smattering of books, it would be ready for the next vacationers to walk through the door. No sign that he’d ever been here.
When had that started to bug him?
Grabbing a beer, he sank down on the sofa and began going through the mail. The usual smattering of bills and junk. And a thick, cream-colored envelope. The Georgia postmark had concrete setting up in his gut. Nothing good could come from home. He slid a finger under the flap of the envelope. The cardstock inside was heavy, like a wedding invitation. But this definitely wasn’t for a wedding.
You are cordially invited to a celebration of life for Garrett Michael Reeves.
The date next month blurred before Ty’s eyes as the invitation fell from his fingers.
Garrett’s birthday. Bethany wanted to have a celebration of his life on his birthday.
How could Ty possibly celebrate his best friend’s life
