“To check, and I don’t want you alone up here.”
We sweep each room. I make her wait at the door and flick on the lights while I go through. I do the same on the main level, working my way deeper into the house. In the guest room, I stand at the threshold. My clothing is hung up and put away in drawers, and the futon is neatly made.
“Do you even sleep in there?” Meredith mutters behind me.
“That’s all I do. And I have no bra to toss on the dresser.”
She makes a strangled sound.
I hold in my chuckle and sweep the room and the closet. “Nothing’s standing out to me, but I don’t have much.” The ranch computer is back in the barn office, and I left my work computer at Jules Creek. The brewery has a security system, and I’ll check with Carlos about his office. “I’ll do the bathroom next, then the bedroom.”
I clear the bathroom with no issues, but I stall out at the door to Dad’s bedroom, the one that used to be his and Mama’s. I cling to the distraction of the possible intruder to keep from thinking about how this was Dad’s private space.
Meredith’s light touch lands on my shoulder. “I can go in.”
“No. I’ll do it.” My intuition says no one’s in the house, but just in case, they’d have to rush me first. Yet I take another three seconds before I push the door open and flip the light switch.
A strong floral perfume rolls over me. A soft gasp escapes Meredith. I clasp her hand and give it a squeeze. Her skin is warm, her fingers strong but so damn dainty in my big palm. She crowds closer.
“I didn’t expect this to be so hard,” she whispers.
“Yeah.” I catch a whiff of Dad. Cigar smoke and grass clippings. His green-stained jeans are lying on the floor.
She has a death grip on my hand. “He mowed the lawn before they went for their drive. I asked Sawyer to be with me when I dealt with…this.”
“It can wait,” I say gruffly, tugging her in with me. My heart pounds as I catalog the last moments of my father’s life and all his days spent with a woman I never wanted to know. A stepmother I didn’t acknowledge I had.
I wince as a quick pulse of regret shocks me. Was it worth it?
One thing Dad taught me was that there’s no use looking back. Forge ahead and deal with the fallout.
“Do you see anything that’s different?”
“I don’t know.” She releases me, and the intensity with which I miss her touch should project me right out of the room.
I’m not leaving her, so I make sure the closet has no one hiding inside it and leave it open for her to inspect. She doesn’t search for long.
“Maybe the drawers are a little more crooked. It’s an old bedroom set, and they’ve always been wonky.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
She sighs, her weariness returning. “They bought a new set shortly after they married, and honestly, it’s almost old enough to drink at the brewery by now.”
“Touché.”
The corner of her mouth tips up, and we tentatively open the drawers—nothing but clothing.
“It seems more rumpled than usual.” She tries another drawer. “Holly liked everything folded, even underwear.”
“Does Dad have a safe, or is everything left at the brewery?” There’s no home office. He used to say work was work. It’s why the barn has an office. Home is for family.
“At the brewery, and thankfully, there’s a security system there.” A ripple of sadness crosses her expression. “I don’t even have his wallet. The most expensive thing Holly owned was her camera, and Dietz must not have found it at the crash site. I haven’t checked the ditch to see if it flew out anywhere, but I’m sure she had it with her that day. She always did on her drives, especially lately. She used to show me the images she took.” She purses her lips. “I used to tease her that she and Ransom were just parking, because since the snow melted, she told me she never got any good shots.”
“I’ll talk to Sheriff Dietz tomorrow.” She and Sawyer don’t need to take on the task. I’m more removed from the accident than them. I should be wanting to ditch them with the hard stuff, but it’s what I do. I’m home to handle the final will and testament and all it entails. For tonight, that’s her and this house.
She yawns. “Maybe I’m just tired and my imagination is working overtime. Thanks for taking it seriously.”
Why wouldn’t I? I haven’t known Meredith for long, but she doesn’t seem prone to dramatics. Her paranoia could be in overdrive, but a quick check of the house calmed her. Still, this woman is used to living in an unlocked house, and she worried someone entered while we were gone.
