by Rose Pressey
I nodded. “I’ll be there. Thanks for letting me know and stopping by.”
“You’re welcome,” he mumbled. He tipped his hat, turned around, and walked back to his car.
I hurried back to the kitchen. The large window facing the back yard had a nice view of several neighbors’ yards. I wanted to see if I could catch a glimpse of what the police were doing. Sure enough, an area to my left beyond Reed’s yard was taped off. Police moved about the lawn. I wasn’t surprised Corbin Berger’s grave was no longer a part of my yard anymore. But I was shocked his grave remained undisturbed while construction went on around it for several years while the subdivision was built.
Down a little hill and under a large pine tree was the spot. Finally, the poor soul would have peace. My head still reeled from the shock of the turn of events. It would take me a while to come to terms with everything that had happened.
Reed entered the kitchen, prying my eyes away from my very own CSI episode. He pulled a newspaper from the waistband of his jeans where he’d hid it. He handed it to me.
“What’s this?” I unfolded the paper.
“Look at the main story,” he urged.
I turned the paper over. My eyes widened. The headline on the local paper read: Local woman solves kidnapping and two homicides—one over a century old.
“Wow. I’m a celebrity. I’ll admit, though, I’m a little freaked out. How’d they take that picture of me?”
He leaned over my shoulder. “It looks like when you in front of the cabin. See your mother’s right there.” He took the paper from me and pointed to her.
“You’re lucky they captured the outfit. Now you will always have this to remind you of it.”
“Give me that.” I snatched the paper from his hands. Other than the outfit, the photo did not look terrible. No twisted mouth, no shut eyelids. Heck, not even smeared mascara down my cheeks, or a mangled up mess of hair. I fought a killer and didn’t even smudge my makeup.
The only other time my picture had ever appeared in a newspaper was for the local beauty pageant. Years ago, my mother forced me to compete in the humiliation. When all the contestants lined up for the photo, I caught a glimpse of my mother entering the room. Since I spotted her before the other girls, they all had normal expressions in the photo. I, on the other hand, looked like a deranged beauty queen.
My mother served up her usual humiliation that day by showing up in an electric blue latex bodysuit and coordinating legwarmers. She had claimed to just come from aerobics class, but I knew that wasn’t the truth. When the picture appeared the next day, to my horror, I discovered my contorted mouth twisted into a strange smirk and the camera had caught me at just the right moment when I had blinked. I didn’t win the contest that year and my mother still has the photo proudly displayed in a golden frame on the mantel at her home.
Reed glanced up at the cabinets, and then stepped back a few paces. He studied my handiwork.
“Well? What do you think?” I asked.
He was silent while tapping his finger against his chin.
“I want to modernize.” I waved my hands for emphasis. “All while keeping the integrity of the home.” I stared at him, then continued. “Oh, and I think I’ll refinish the light fixtures.”
He turned to me. “It costs too much.”
“What? What do you mean, it costs too much? Don’t you worry about that.”
“You should just buy new fixtures.”
“I don’t want new ones,” I said tersely.
“You need to hurry if you want a for sale sign in the front yard any time this century. There’s no time for refinishing in house flipping. Restoring, maybe, but not flipping.”
I rolled my eyes.
“When are you tackling those electric problems?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to mess up the plaster walls. I need to find a good electrician. He can just snake wires through the walls,” I said.
“How’d you come up with that?” He asked.
“I read. I’m not illiterate, you know.”
He laughed. I smiled in return despite myself. Reed’s arms surrounded me.
“We make a good team,” he said, lifting me up, then planting a kiss on my lips.
About Rose Pressey
Rose Pressey enjoys writing quirky and fun novels with a paranormal twist. The paranormal has always captured her interest. The thought of finding answers to the unexplained fascinates her.
When she's not writing about werewolves, vampires and every other supernatural creature, she loves eating cupcakes with sprinkles, reading, spending time with family, and listening to oldies from the fifties. Yeah, she loves Elvis. She can't help myself.
Rose lives in the beautiful commonwealth of Kentucky with her husband, son, and two sassy Chihuahuas.
Visit her online at:
http://www.rosepressey.com
http://www.facebook.com/rosepressey
http://www.twitter.com/rosepressey
Rose loves to hear from readers. You can email her at: [email protected]
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
About Rose Pressey