Page 16 of Where Roads Lead

I opened my notebook once more, ready to dive back into my story when—

“What are you doing?” I jumped, clutching my chest at the sight of the landscaper standing in the house.

I’d been vaguely aware of the back door opening and closing before he was standing right there, walking through the kitchen.

“Using Mr. Briggs’s bathroom.” Again, his face quirked up in confusion.

“It’s my bathroom,” I countered.

“I always use it when I work here. You’re not denying a man the right to empty his bladder, are you?”

“No!” I sputtered. “But you could have knocked!”

“Why would I, when I know the backdoor doesn’t lock?”

“It what?”

“Yeah, it’s been busted for at least a year now. No one’s ever bothered fixing it, what with Mr. Briggs’s being gone and what not.”

“How could they rent out a house that doesn’t have working locks?” I said shakily, thinking about the supposed murder that took place here.

Maybe if someone had fixed the lock, it wouldn’t have happened!

And here I thought a small town in Massachusetts would be safe.

“Hey, lady, listen,” he said. “If you have a problem, take it up with Will. He handles stuff like this.”

Stuff like what? Complaints from aggravated women?

I most certainly would not be taking anything up with him.

“Besides,” he shrugged, “it’s not like you need a lock here in Colbridge. It’s the safest town in the US, save for that murder business the ladies love to chat about.” He chuckled deeply.

I gasped, finding it deeply disturbing that the man tending to my lawn was finding humor in the crime that occurred in this very house.

“You know what!” I told him. “Fine. Fine. I will take it up with Will Hughes. At the very least, he can point me in the direction of someone to fix the damned doors!”

Maybe he’d even inspire a new scene for my story, at least.

“Yup, you do that, lady,” the landscaper said before slamming my bathroom door shut behind him while humming the tune to Jessie’s Girl.

Screw it, there wasn’t anything valuable in here to worry about leaving him alone. Grabbing my bag and the keys (even though I apparently didn’t even need them!), I headed back out into the heart of Colbridge, searching for the only man capable of solving my problems.

Chapter Six

Will

“You’re a hard man to track down.”

The last person in the world I was expecting to see when I pulled myself out from under Tom Dawson’s car was that redhead. Elsie. Standing there, with her hair all glittery in the sunlight.

Annoying.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, wiping the sweat out of my eyes as I squinted up at her.

“Well, I have a problem, Will,” she said, hand on her hip.

Of course she did.