AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Lia studied the cottage. “It’s adorable, isn’t it? I wouldn’t have expected it to be so cute.”
“Me neither.” The house was painted a cheerful yellow with blue trim. The front door was bright red, and there were flowers everywhere—on the porch, hanging in baskets, and in beds all over the yard.
“I can’t believe you brought me here,” Lia said. “It’s so out of character for you. I never thought you cared about all this.”
“About all what?”
“About what happened to your parents.”
My eyes on the house, I sighed. “I was ten the last time I saw my father. I’d just learned what he did to end up in prison, so all these years I haven’t wanted to think about it. But seeing my mother’s handwriting on the back of that picture made me want to come. Besides, I thought you’d enjoy seeing the murder house.”
“The murder house.” She repeated the phrase, enjoying the way it rolled off her tongue. Then, before I could stop her, she climbed out of the car.
“What are you doing?”
She pointed to the empty driveway. “Nobody’s home. I just want to get a better look.”
“Lia,” I hissed. “No.”
“Come on. We’ll just take a quick peek through the window, then we’ll leave.”
“No, you can’t do that.”
“No?” Her eyes danced with amusement, then she turned and headed toward the house. As usual, arguing with her was pointless. Once Lia made up her mind about something, there was no stopping her.
Compelled to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, I pushed open my car door and followed her toward the house. “Lia, we have to go back. This is Texas. People get shot for trespassing here.”
“Nobody is going to shoot a pregnant woman.” Placing a hand on her belly, she continued up the walk, asking me one question after another. “Who do you think lives here now? Do you think it’s another family?”
“I don’t know, but it’s definitely someone who loves to garden.”
Lia raised her phone to take a picture, and that’s when a woman about my aunt’s age came around the side of the house. Wearing a big, floppy hat, she pushed a wheelbarrow full of potting soil. Behind her trailed an old yellow Labrador retriever with a tennis ball in his mouth.
Quickly, Lia lowered her phone and went still.
I stepped back, irrationally thinking we could leave before being noticed, but that didn’t make sense.
“Hello.” The woman set down the wheelbarrow and lifted a friendly hand in greeting. “Hi, there.”
“Hi.” Lia sounded relaxed, as if we had nothing to worry about. Then again, she never seemed to worry about anything. At least not aloud. “You have a beautiful home. We were just admiring your flowers. What’s that one with all the butterflies called?”
“Oh, that’s Gregg’s blue mist. The butterflies love it.”
“Gregg’s blue mist,” Lia repeated.
I said nothing, too nervous to speak.
The woman wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “You’re welcome to take as many pictures as you’d like. This orange plant, Pride of Barbados, also attracts butterflies. And of course milkweed. It—”
Suddenly the woman’s eyes widened. She stared first at Lia, then at me as though recognizing us. She didn’t, did she?
“Are you okay?” Lia asked.
“Yes, of course.” The woman gave a little shudder as though trying to regain her composure. “These allergies are making my throat dry. I lost my voice for a second there, but I’m fine now. Perfectly fine. I probably need to get out of the heat. I’ve been working outside all morning.”
“Well, it shows,” Lia said. “Your yard is simply gorgeous.”
“It is,” I managed to say, suddenly feeling uneasy for a reason I couldn’t explain. Maybe I’d made a mistake in coming here.
