“And if he’s at TJ’s, who’s keeping an eye on a man who’s no longer right in the head?” Bree nodded. “Now, I’m curious. Maybe the caregiver has backup so he can take a break now and then.”
“I hope so. And if not, did he lock the old man in the house or just leave him to fend for himself and possibly burn the house down or wander off and get lost in the woods?” Avery’s lips twisted. “I don’t know Mr. Logsdon, but for the one time he ran into me. Still, he seemed like a nice man who’d seen a lot of pain.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to check on him,” Bree said. “The others can wait a minute or two for their food.”
As they pulled up in front of a single-story gray-blue clapboard house with the white trim, Avery thought it looked like a place out of a storybook, neat, clean and well-maintained. The drive was empty, and the blinds had been drawn in the windows. The sun had dropped low on the horizon, casting long shadows. If she didn’t get moving, she’d break her promise to Grant by not getting back before dark.
Bree shifted into park. “Doesn’t look like anyone is home.”
“Perhaps Seth drops Mr. Logsdon off at a senior center in the evenings while he catches a bite to eat.” Avery pushed open her door. “I’ll just go knock.”
“Coming with you,” Bree said and caught up with her as she climbed the front porch.
Avery knocked on the door, straining to hear sounds from inside the house.
Nothing.
She knocked again. “Mr. Logsdon? It’s me, Agent Hart.”
She listed.
“I hear footsteps,” Bree whispered.
Avery heard them, too.
A moment later, the door handle jiggled as if someone on the other side was unlocking it, then it turned.
Mr. Logsdon peered through the gap. When he spied Avery, his face lit up. “Sarah! You’re home. Come in. Come in. Your mother will be so happy.”
Avery smiled at the old man. “Mr. Logsdon, I’m Avery Hart, not Sarah. I’ve just come to see if you’re all right.”
“Not Sarah?” His brow furrowed. Then he turned his head and spotted Bree standing to the side. His frown deepened. “Sarah?”
Bree shook her head. “No, sir. I’m not Sarah. I’m Bree Lansing. Are you okay?”
He shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re my Sarah,” he said, his gaze going from Avery to Bree and back. He staggered backward, his legs shaking.
Avery hurried forward and slipped his arm over her shoulder. “Mr. Logsdon, let’s get you to a chair. Is there anyone here with you?”
“Oh, Sarah, I missed you so much. Your mother has been crying for days.”
Bree got on the other side of the man and looped his other arm over her shoulder.
Together, they eased him back through the door and inside to a small living room with a floral overstuffed sofa in shades of pale pink and blue. They eased him onto the seat and stood back.
“Can we get you something to drink, Mr. Logsdon?”
“Fetch Maggie,” he said. “She’ll be so happy. Her little girl has come home.”
“Is Maggie your wife?” Avery asked.
“Yes, yes,” he said and scrubbed a hand down his face. “The love of my life. I fell in love with her the first day she came to work at the mill. Prettiest girl I ever saw, with hair as black as yours.” He reached out and touched Avery’s long hair, which she hadn’t pulled back that morning.
“Mr. Logsdon, are you here alone?” Bree asked.
He shook his head. “My sweet Maggie is here. She’s fixing dinner. It should be ready soon.”
Avery straightened and crossed to the fireplace, where a shiny silver and black urn stood on the mantel. Words had been engraved in the metal.
