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“You know this is how people get killed in those old horror movies, right?” Lyndsey said beside me.
“This isn’t a movie.”
“You’re right.” She scoffed. “This is real life. We couldreallydie.”
“We’re not going to die.”
We rounded the corner into the kitchen and flicked on the light. One pan fell to the ground with a bang that resounded off of the cavernous walls like thunder. Lyndsey jumped, grabbing the nearest object and raising it up above her head. She leaped into a defensive position, while I watched the scene unfold in all its comedic glory.
The culprit stood on its hind legs. Dark, beady eyes peered back in confusion, though absolutely no remorse, from behind his fuzzy black mask. The whiskers at his long snout twitched, and he hissed in agitation before darting out of the kitchen and up the stairs. His fluffy ringed tail bobbed up and down with each step he took until he vanished into the darkness upstairs.
I turned to face Lyndsey, still in her warrior pose and wielding what I now realized was a turkey baster.
“Hmm, maybe not as effective as the lamp or frying pan which were also well within reach,” I said calmly. “Though I suppose you could always blind him with broth.”
She yanked her arms down to her sides, inspecting the baster as if noticing it for the first time. One shoulder rose upward in a flippant shrug. “Anyone can deal damage with a frying pan. It takes a true artist to incapacitate someone with a turkey baster.”
I laughed, moving up the stairs to ensure our culprit found his way back outside. “Well, luckily we didn’t have to put that plan into action. It seems your intruder was just a raccoon.”
She’d closed off all the remaining rooms upstairs, which made it easier to gauge where the animal scampered off to. I didn’t want to have to search every room in this ridiculously large house in order to leave my stamp of approval on it.
We made our way into the only open room, the one where the fire had taken place. They’d removed what was left of the door in the salvaging process and cleared away as much of the ash as possible. The effects of the fire remained visible in the charred bits of wood still attached to the house, and the meager tarp now acted as a temporary roof.
“How did he get in?” she asked.
I lifted a piece of the tarp. It had been secured with some rope and sandbags to keep out the majority of the elements and wildlife. Nevertheless, it didn’t seem to stop one crafty raccoon. It had been a week since the fire. The tarp likely hadn’t been meant as a long-term solution. At least the important repairs should have been handled by now.
“You need to patch up the hole here,” I said, gesturing toward the ceiling. “Any reason why you haven’t?”
Lyndsey crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes shifting from one end of the room to the other. Silence reigned as her only response until finally she shrugged and added, “It’s a long story. But needless to say, I’m still waiting on my insurance check to come in before I start any actual repairs.”
“What about your parents?” I asked. “They won’t help you?”
This time she turned away and started back down the stairwell. “It’s complicated. After the fire, they cut me off until I’m able to prove how responsible I can be.”
“But it wasn’t your fault.” I followed after her. “Can’t you just show them this letter, and—”
“They won’t believe me,” she explained, stopping at the bottom of the stairs and peering up at me. “They said no matter what happened, protecting this house was my responsibility. I should be able to protect it from intruders and external forces.”
Now that didn’t make any sense. How could anyone prepare for something like this? How could she control the actions of other people? “That’s crazy. You’d only had the house for a day.”
“My parents don’t believe in doing anything halfway.”
I reached the final step and stopped in front of her. She was tall, though the top of her head only reached the bottom of my chin. Those chocolate eyes peered up at me, so warm and inviting despite the sad story she’d spun. Everything drew me to her, propelled me forward as if by some imaginary thread. The need to comfort her roused within me, though she had already pushed me away once that night.
A mistake. Isn’t that what she’d called it? Our kiss had been a complete mistake in her mind. Though for me, it was the first thing I’d done right in a long time.
“What about your inheritance?” I asked, trying to focus on something other than the curve of Lyndsey’s lips and how they tasted. “Vanessa received hers already. Can’t you use some of that money to fix the house up?”
Lyndsey rolled one shoulder and made her way toward the living room. I followed like a faithful little puppy dog eager to hear her tale of woe. I was whipped. Already.
Damn. Let’s hope the guys at the station never notice this. I would never hear the end of it.
“Yes, well, my parents froze my inheritance the instant I received it,” Lyndsey explained.
This was insane. It certainly wasn’t the picture-perfect fairy tale Vanessa used to encapsulate the life of her sworn enemy. According to my sister, Lyndsey had everything she ever wanted. Loving parents who gave into her every whim, the underserved adoration of her grandparents, and enough money to fulfill her lifelong dreams.
Though none of that seemed very true at all. Sure, Lyndsey’s parents loved her, but even I had to admit this was all a little too harsh. Whatever lesson they intended to teach her hadn’t accounted for a threat on her life or any practical applications behind restoring the necessary parts of the house. Not to mention, Lyndsey clearly loved her grandmother. Guilt shrouded every glance she cast around this house, as though she already let her grandmother down by letting anything happen to it.
