The Sierra Files Box Set: Books 1-3: Plus a bonus Christmas novella!

by Christy Barritt

“Maybe because he just took over as CEO of the largest fur coat company on the East Coast?”

  My mouth dropped open. “What?”

  She nodded, looking a little too pleased with herself. “It’s true.”

  “If that was the case, I’d hurt Reggie, not his wife.”

  My mother gasped. “Sierra!”

  I shrugged quickly and stepped back. “I mean, I didn’t hurt anyone. But think this through. The pieces don’t fit together when you examine possible motives. Besides, I had no idea what the Lennoxes’ backgrounds were until you just told me.”

  My mom’s mouth dropped open. This was not one of her proud maternal moments, and I regretted that. But I’d spoken the truth, like it or not.

  “I didn’t get to town until yesterday evening,” I continued. “That body appeared older than that.”

  “I’d say it was there at least two days,” Chad added with a shrug. “That’s based purely on my background as a mortician.”

  “She’s got a point,” Detective Meadows conceded, nibbling on her bottom lip a moment.

  Relief filled me. I hadn’t been the captain of my debate team for nothing.

  Then the detective’s death stare reappeared. “But we’re still searching the residence.”

  The relief disappeared just as fast as it had materialized.

  I stood there, desperately wanting to talk to Chad, to figure out where Big Boy was and what had happened. I had to plan wisely, though. One wrong look, one ill-timed whispered conversation, and I could be an even bigger target on the detective’s radar.

  An officer poked his head in through the back door. “Detective, I think you’ll want to see this.”

  Chad and I exchanged a glance. This wasn’t good. I was already picturing dog hair, muddy paw prints, and a big, dopey Big Boy watching from the window of the guesthouse.

  Since my mom and dad began to follow everyone to the backyard, Chad and I found ourselves swept into the current as well.

  I tried to brace myself for the oncoming wave of bad news.

  “There’s no sign the dog is still here,” the officer said as we all joined him by the fence. “But there are paw prints here in the mud by the gate.”

  My gaze met Chad’s. Where in the world was Big Boy? While I was relieved I hadn’t been caught red handed, my next thought had gone to the dog and his safety.

  “Those could have been left yesterday, Officer Hawkins.” The detective glared at the impressions in the soft dirt in front of her.

  Clearly, they were from a dog. But they didn’t really tell the police anything they didn’t already know. Thank goodness.

  Finally, after what felt like hours of standing and fidgeting and watching everyone do their jobs, Detective Meadows turned to us. “Thank you for your compliance. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. You’ll be around if we have any more questions?”

  “Of course. I hope you find Big Boy soon,” I said.

  The detective didn’t smile when she looked back at me. “I do, too.”

  As soon as everyone scattered, I turned to Chad. We remained outside in the brisk morning air. The edges of my flannel pants were wet from the dew on the grass, but I didn’t care. “What happened?”

  “I saw the police outside the house this morning. I opened the door to find out what was going on, and Big Boy ran out. Again.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “He jumped over the fence and disappeared into the woods. I started to go after him, but he was gone. It’s obvious that dog is going to do whatever he wants to do. Then things started clicking in my mind, and I figured I better clean up. I ran the vacuum and washed the dog bowls. Thankfully.”

  I nodded in total agreement. “If the police had found those things . . .”

  “I would be their prime suspect.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that, and it wasn’t totally accurate. “I actually think I’m on their radar. Apparently Mr. Lennox owns a fur company. Detective Meadows did research on me and knows about my opposition to careers such as that.”

  “Did you know about the fur company?”

  “Of course I didn’t know that!” My voice rose to an abnormally high pitch.

  Chad glanced around. “Keep calm.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Chad leaned closer, his eyes unblinking and serious. “Leave it to the police.”

  “But . . .”

  “Not buts about it.”

  “The nerve of some people!” someone screeched in the distance.

  I glanced over and couldn’t believe my eyes. “Mom?”

  She stormed out the back door, my dad right behind her. She stopped at the deck railing, staring across the backyard and reminding me of Scarlett O’Hara on her balcony, realizing all was lost.

  My normally put-together mom would never act like this if she were in her right mind.

  That meant whatever happened really must be bad.

  I strode across the grass toward her. “What’s wrong?”

  “That woman,” she seethed, flipping her head back to indicate someone behind her.

  “The detective?” I was usually good at assuming things, but not so much in this case. She could be referring to Aunt Yori saying something inappropriate, Ms. Blankenship missing a cobweb, Sharo forgetting if rings or “I do” came first in the ceremony.

  Her eyes narrowed. “No. Mrs. Jericho.”

  Not who I’d expected. “What about her?”

  “She’s having a yard sale. A yard sale! Today of all days.” For my mom, this was apparently a North-defeating-the-South moment. Or, in my family’s case, the West outdoing the East.

  “What’s so bad about a yard sale?” I asked, realizing I was probably opening a can of worms—a saying I was totally opposed to, in case anyone asked.

  Her eyes went crazy wide. She and Aunt Yori were definitely related; I’d just never seen the resemblance before.

  “A yard sale? Today? The street will be flooded with traffic now, and my guests will have nowhere to park. She did this on purpose.”

  “She flooded the street with traffic?” I clarified.

  “Precisely!” My mom raised her index finger in the air. “That’s what kind of woman she is. K.T., go see if she has a permit. If she doesn’t, the police can shut her down. You have to have a permit in this area.”

  “Yes, Mai.” My dad knew better than to argue. None of us had ever seen my mom in her bridezilla state. Well, maybe my dad had, but I couldn’t even imagine the two of them ever being young, foolish, and in love. Like, not at all. Not even if I closed my eyes and tried really, really hard.

  My mom, still in a tizzy, turned on her heel.

  “And for goodness’ sakes, you two. Put some real clothes on.”

  I glanced down at my modest PJs and frowned. It wasn’t like I would have worn these outside if I hadn’t been summoned out of bed by the police. I didn’t bother to argue, though.

  Mother stomped toward the house. My sister threw a disparaging glance over her shoulder at me and hurried after Mom.

  “I’ve never seen her like that,” someone muttered beside me. Based on the shrill voice, it wasn’t Chad.

  I glanced over and saw the wedding planner. Where had she come from? Last I’d heard, she was one of the few people associated with the ceremony who wasn’t spending the night here.

  “Your parents have been obsessing over this day for months, you know. It’s a shame things appear to be going wrong right now.”

  “Really? Because I just heard about it two weeks ago.” Funny how that had worked out.

  “She’s been going a little crazy, if you know what I mean,” Sharo muttered, examining one of her red fingernails while clutching a clipboard.

  “No, actually I don’t.” What was she talking about?

  “She’s just been very uptight. Very obsessed with crossing every t and dotting every i, you know?”

  I nodded. I supposed I could understand. Chad and I had run away and eloped, so I c
ouldn’t fully appreciate how stressful a formal ceremony might be. Nor could I understand why my mom, who never seemed like the sentimental type, was so obsessed with renewing her vows. But to each their own . . . unless it came to mistreating animals.

  Sharo held her clipboard out, and I caught a quick glance and saw some numbers there: 41. 25. 38.

  What were they for? Seating arrangements of some sort? An itemized bill? I had no idea.

  She noticed me looking and held the papers closer. “I only hope that dog doesn’t show up again.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then everything really will be ruined.”

  Somehow in the process of all of this, people had lost sight of the fact that the real tragedy here was that a human life had been lost. A ruined ceremony paled in comparison, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t convince anyone else of that.

  Chapter Eleven

  Chad and I had gone into our rooms, respectively, and gotten ready.

  By the time we got back downstairs, my dad had come back and informed everyone that the evil Mrs. Jericho had a permit and wouldn’t back down. She was having that sale whether we liked it or not, and it was her God-given right as a citizen of this town.

  My mom let out another inhuman screech, and that’s when I knew I had to do something.

  “Let me go talk to her,” I said.

  Chad looked at me like I was crazy.

  So did everyone else, for that matter.

  I shrugged, slightly offended. “What? I’m a great negotiator.”

  Everyone continued to stare in disbelief.

  “I am,” I insisted, not losing any of my gusto.

  Moments flashed back in my mind. Images where I’d failed terribly at negotiating. Scenarios where I’d protested certain events while wearing tiger costumes and sitting in cages for all the world to see.

  Maybe negotiator wasn’t the best word. But I could be provocative and challenging.

  “I’m going,” I said firmly, not one to be easily discouraged. I was nothing if not tenacious.

  “I’m going with her,” Chad said, casting me another incredulous look.

  We slipped outside, the sunlight now warming the air a little bit more. Chad fell into step beside me as we walked down the driveway. Silence stretched between us, the only sounds that of the birds tweeting and the faint murmur of a crowd in the distance.

  “You really think you’re going to talk her out of this yard sale?” Chad asked when we reached the sidewalk.

  I shook my head, trying to tamp down the bounce in my step. I loved a good challenge. “No, not at all.”

  “Then what are you up to?”

  “What makes you think I’m up to something? A walk sounded good, you know?”

  “Uh-huh,” Chad mumbled.

  The yard sale certainly was in full swing. Sure, we had yard sales all the time back home. But this yard sale seemed different. It was . . . busy, for starters. Like, really busy. There must have been twelve cars lined up down the road. I could hear the crowd from several yards away. And I even heard a . . . bullhorn?

  As we rounded the patch of trees, I spotted Mrs. Jericho standing in the middle of rows and rows of neatly organized tables. And, sure enough, she had a bullhorn to her lips. “I’ve got china here that’s worth five hundred dollars, and I’m only asking one hundred. It’s a steal of a deal. Don’t let this one pass you by.”

  What was this? An auction? Or did Mrs. Jericho really know how to run a sale? I’d never seen anything like it.

  “Let’s split up. Less intimidating that way,” I suggested.

  He nodded and made his way toward a table of tools.

  I squeezed between a display of collectible stuffed animals and another filled with creepy-looking dolls. I inched closer to my parents’ eccentric neighbor, who continued to talk at a rapid pace on that bullhorn, even going as far as to stand on an old dining room chair.

  People loved it. They were practically throwing money at her. She had some kind of apron around her waist with a change dispenser, a pocket for paper bills, and a place where she even swiped credit cards.

  I picked up a piece of Tupperware and waited for a good break or even for her to take a breath, for that matter.

  It didn’t come. She kept chattering on and on.

  Finally, I backed away, my ears ringing and a headache beginning.

  “She knows how to run a yard sale, doesn’t she?” another woman said as she riffled through some hardback books.

  “You can say that again.”

  “I’m not usually a yard sale person, but I just couldn’t resist coming over here to see what she had. Mrs. Jericho always knows how to keep things interesting here on the street.”

  I perked. “You live on this street?”

  She nodded. “Sure do. For now, at least. We’re hoping to upgrade in the near future.”

  Upgrade? As if these houses weren’t large enough. It wasn’t my place to say that. Not everyone was content with minimalist lifestyle choices. “Less is more” had sustained me many days.

  I glanced at the woman more closely. She was probably in her forties. Though she was thin, she had big bones and dark hair cut in a short bob, and she wore expensive-looking jeans along with a black sweater.

  Maybe she could add some insights to what was going on around here, starting with the body found in the woods last night. So far she seemed in the know.

  “Is this street always so exciting?” I asked casually.

  “You mean the woman they found dead yesterday?” The lady leaned closer. “I couldn’t believe it either. The police have been all over this neighborhood since then. I find it hard to believe that anyone on this street would have anything to do with it. I hate to even think about it.”

  “Did the cops find anything?” I asked, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening.

  She shrugged, holding up an old Agatha Christie hardback and skimming the back cover. “I’m not sure. I do know they took a tarp. Said there was blood on it.”

  I straightened, electricity zinging through me. Detective Meadows had been listening!

  “Whose blood do you think it was?” I continued, pretending to be interested in the ugliest plaid skirt I’d ever laid eyes on.

  “It was stain. Just red stain from the deck.” She put the book back onto the table and moved on to a Sue Grafton paperback.

  “Are you sure?”

  The woman paused. “Sure about what?”

  “About the stain?” I leaned closer again. “That Mr. Lennox, do you think he could have . . . ?”

  The woman scrunched her eyebrows together. “Could have what?”

  I shrugged, trying to look casual. “I don’t know. Offed his wife, maybe?”

  She jerked back, her eyes widening. “Why in the world would you ask that?”

  I needed to rethink this plan because several people were glancing over now, questions in their eyes as the emotion filling the woman’s words intensified. “Because she hasn’t been seen in days.”

  “That’s because I was out of town with work!”

  I gulped, not liking the conclusions I was drawing. “What?”

  “That’s right. I’m Mrs. Lennox, and I resent your implications!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Most people would have been embarrassed enough to leave at that point. Not me. I made a living by drawing attention to myself. But I only did when the situation warranted it.

  That meant that even though people were doing the suburban equivalent of shunning me, I stayed around anyway.

  “I thought you were out of town until next week?” I continued.

  She scowled. “I came back early.”

  With that, she stormed away, not only from me but from the entire yard sale.

  Chad joined me, questions in his gaze. “What did you do?”

  “I just offended someone. Nothing new.”

  He looked unfazed. “Did you talk to Mrs. Jericho yet?”

  I shook my
head, glancing over at her. “No, she won’t stop living out her secret childhood fantasy of being an auctioneer. Her voice is going to haunt me in my sleep. I’m convinced of it.”

  “What now?”

  “Give me just a few more minutes. I’m not ready to give up yet.”

  I continued to scout out the yard sale. Every once in a while, I would scan my environment. Part of me hoped to see Big Boy come galloping through again, just as he’d done last night. But, so far he hadn’t made an appearance.

  In the distance, Mrs. Jericho continued her bid for saleswoman of the year, and neighbors were clamoring to buy things. More cars had pulled up, and people seemed to be feeding on the frenzy of other customers. They were snatching up things left and right.

  “I heard what you said back there.” A frumpy, fifty-something blonde approached me at the baby-clothing table.

  Baby clothing? I needed to get away from these before the rumors started.

  The woman continued, talking low so no one else could hear. “Those two do have a lot of problems. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

  “You mean, the Lennoxes?” I clarified.

  She nodded. “Yes, the Lennoxes. I go on a walk every morning. I’ve heard them arguing before. I can hear it all the way out on the street.”

  “Wow, must be some fights they’re having.”

  “Thank goodness they don’t have any kids. It’s bad enough their dog is in the middle of this.”

  My heart panged at the thought of Big Boy. “Poor dog.”

  She nodded. “I know. The dog walker gave him more attention than anyone else.”

  At least they’d been kind enough to hire someone to do what they should have done. I’d give them credit for that. Like kids, canines needed TLC too.

  I wondered if Mr. Lennox ever thought about skinning that poor dog so his wife could wear him around her pretty little neck.

  I shook my head. No. This was not 101 Dalmatians playing out in real life. I couldn’t bear to think about it. The idea was too absurd. Stuff like that didn’t happen in reality . . . but what if it did?

  “So, you saw the dog on your walks?”

  The woman nodded. “Seven a.m. every morning, just like clockwork.” She suddenly frowned. “Until three days ago. They must have fired her. It’s a shame, but I hear that family is very hard to please. I guess it’s no surprise, not in that sense.”