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

by Christy Barritt

  I chewed on those words. Was it important? I couldn’t be sure. But it was something to think about.

  I walked back into my parents’ house and instantly felt my entire body tense again.

  My parents were both waiting for me at the breakfast nook. My mom sipped some coffee while my dad fed their goldfish—the only animals they’d allow to live inside their home, they’d said many times.

  “Well?” my mom asked.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to talk Mrs. Jericho out of the yard sale.”

  I’d finally had face time with her, but she’d used that moment to laugh outright and belittle my request on the bullhorn for everyone to hear. It hadn’t been all that pleasant, truth be told, but I’d been through worse. I could only conclude that Mrs. Jericho was a very lonely, very sad woman who poured herself into her career.

  “She was adamant about the sale,” I continued.

  And there was something about the gleam in her eyes that told me Mrs. Jericho had chosen this date on purpose. Did she want to ruin my parents’ big day? My guess would be yes.

  My father put his arm around my mom’s shoulders. “It will be fine,” he insisted. “The yard sale will be long over before the ceremony tonight.”

  She nodded with absolutely no conviction and stood. As she hurried upstairs, my father followed behind, trying to console her. It was kind of cute, actually, and I’d never thought of my parents as cute before. The thought threw me off balance for a minute.

  Reina came over as soon as my parents were out of earshot. “I watched the news this morning,” she started. “There was a report on the body.”

  “And?” My pulse spiked.

  “The medical examiner is saying that it’s of a young woman in her early twenties, probably five feet tall, and white.”

  My mind raced through what I’d just learned at the yard sale. Could this be the answer I was looking for?

  “What’s wrong, Sierra?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve got to go back to that yard sale. Cover for me!”

  “I’m going too,” Chad said, right on my heels.

  I didn’t argue.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What are you doing?” Chad asked, trying to keep up with me.

  I was walking as fast as some of the enthusiastic senior citizens in the mall did every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning. If I put more hip and elbow action into it, I might become a certified speed walker. Add a velour sweat suit and I’d be in business.

  “There was a lady at the yard sale. She was telling me about a dog walker that she hasn’t seen in a few days.”

  “And you think that’s who the dead body is?”

  I nodded. “I do. That’s why Big Boy had such a loyal reaction. It makes sense.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything. Just follow my lead.”

  I stopped at the yard sale, slightly out of breath from the fast walking—which surprised me and made me vow to sign up for aerobics or something. My gaze scanned the crowd, and finally I spotted the woman. She was climbing into her Volvo station wagon.

  In a move that probably made me seem on par with my mom when it came to looking like a madwoman, I waved my arms and ran toward her.

  She froze, her eyes widening as she seemed to consider whether or not I might hurt her, and then she backed up, shielding herself with her open car door. “Yes?”

  If I’d really been a crazy woman, then her best bet would have been to climb in the car and lock the doors. Thankfully, she seemed to value courtesy over safety. It worked in my favor at the moment.

  “That dog walker you mentioned?” I started, sucking in another gulp of air.

  “Yes?” She still squeezed the door, and her eyes had a frantic look about them.

  “What did she look like?”

  With measured movements she shook her head. “I don’t know. Youngish. Probably in college. Blonde hair. Thin.”

  “How tall?”

  She shrugged. “Kind of short. Maybe a couple of inches shorter than me. I’m five four.”

  Dread settled in my stomach.

  The dog walker fit the description of the body found yesterday.

  Now I just needed to figure out how to break that news to the police without incriminating myself.

  Detective Meadows met me in my parents’ driveway. I really didn’t want to upset my folks any more than they already were today. I prayed that my sister had thought of some great excuse as to why I wasn’t inside the house right now, some kind of conversational sleight-of-hand trick.

  “So you’re telling me you think the dead woman is the dog walker?” the detective repeated. She stared at me, that same skeptical, distant look in her eyes.

  “That’s right. One of the neighbors—” I glanced down at the paper in my hands where I’d scribbled her name. She wouldn’t give me her address. At least she’d been that smart. “A Mrs. Linda Goodgame said that she walks the neighborhood every day at seven. She sees a girl walking Big Boy.”

  “Who’s this Big Boy?” The detective shifted her weight from one foot to the other, still looking confused.

  I wanted to growl. “The dog! I nicknamed him Big Boy. It’s no big deal. I just couldn’t call him mutt, though. Maybe John Dog . . . you know, instead of John Doe.”

  The detective didn’t look amused. “I get it,” she deadpanned.

  I straightened. “That’s not really important here, though.”

  “So what makes you think the body we found is the dog walker?”

  “Mrs. Goodgame hasn’t seen the dog walker in three days. That fits in with the timeline of her death.”

  The detective shifted as if I’d made her uncomfortable. “How do you know that? We haven’t released that information to the press.”

  I was right? Yes. I loved being right. “It was obvious she hadn’t been dead that long! It doesn’t take a detective to figure that out!”

  “Sierra,” Chad whispered, warning in his voice.

  I know, I know. I need to watch my tone. Sometimes I got a bit fired up, though. This was one of those times.

  “Will you just check her out? Please? I’m trying to stay out of this. I really am. But when clues keep smacking me in the face, what am I supposed to do?”

  “If it makes you feel better, I’ll talk to the Lennoxes and see what’s going on. Okay?” Detective Meadows conceded.

  I nodded, resisting the urge to beg her to find Big Boy while she was at it. That poor dog. I hoped he wasn’t scared and all alone out there.

  Then I remembered Big Boy and his essence. He wasn’t the scared kind of dog. He was a take-life-by-the-horns type of canine. He’d come back when he was ready.

  As soon as the police pulled away, Sharo pulled up in a cute little Mercedes and came sauntering down the driveway toward me. I noted the mud on her tires. She didn’t seem like the muddy-tires kind of lady.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Of course.” I nodded toward her car. “Doing some off-roading?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I had to park in the gravel parking lot at the bakery, if you must know.”

  One of the many hazards of being a wedding planner, I supposed.

  “Don’t forget—your parents are counting on you today, Sierra.” With that, Sharo sashayed inside.

  I nodded, guilt flashing through me. I’d let them down in nearly every way—personally, professionally, financially. I supposed I could make a little more effort today.

  Before I could plan my next move, my sister and mom stepped outside, designer purses looped on their arms. “It’s time for manis and pedis,” Reina said. “Let’s get going.”

  I stole a glance at Chad. Manis and pedis? With my mom and sister? I was going to need a lot of prayer to get through this.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “So, tell me about this Chad,” my mom said while her toes gurgled in a bath of bubbling water.

  My
mother, sister, and I all sat in a row in the upscale salon where soothing instrumental music crooned overhead. The floors were marble, the style simplistic, and the workers all dressed in jeans with black T-shirts. This wasn’t my scene, but I could be a team player.

  I resisted another “owie” remark. The technician was having a field day on my toes. Certainly my cuticles weren’t this bad. It wasn’t like I didn’t groom myself or something.

  I braced myself before launching into the conversation about Chad. “He’s . . . what can I say? He’s great, Mom. I think you’ll really like him when you get to know him.”

  “He’s a mortician?” She turned the page in her medical journal. Most women read Vogue at places like this. Maybe even Better Homes and Gardens or People. But not my mom.

  I wasn’t much better. If I’d had my choice, I’d be reading the new vegan cookbook I’d just purchased.

  I exchanged a glance with my sister. The way her eyes grew to owl-like proportions made it clear how she felt this conversation would go.

  “He was a mortician,” I corrected.

  “What does he do now?” My mom peered at me over the top of the professional journal.

  “He’s actually . . .” How did I say this? Why did I care? I was proud of Chad and the work he did. I just didn’t want a confrontation with my mom. “He’s a crime scene cleaner.”

  My mom sucked in air so fast she nearly snorted. “A crime scene cleaner, you said?”

  I nodded, cringing again as the pedicurist dug into my toenails again. “That’s right. He comes in after the police leave and cleans up any hazardous material, among other things. It’s a valuable job, and unfortunately, it’s necessary to our society today.”

  “And this is the man you brought home to me?”

  I might as well have said he was an escaped convict.

  I nodded, refusing to break my gaze with her. “That’s correct.”

  “How would he ever support you, if you were to get married? You can’t plan a future based on a career like that.”

  “His job is decent, Mother. Plus, I work.”

  “Your job doesn’t pay much either, Sierra. Greg, on the other hand, he’s really made something of himself.”

  “Mom . . .” I suddenly felt like a teenager again. No one could exasperate me more quickly than my parents.

  “Don’t ‘Mom’ me, Sierra. I’ve been around the block a few times. You have to think these things through.”

  Sure she had. She’d been around the block in her luxury BMW. Don’t get me wrong—my mom had worked hard to become a doctor. Though I was born of her loins—gross!—I still felt like the two of us came from two totally different worlds.

  My sister nodded toward me. I knew what she was implying. She wanted me to tell Mom I was married. I just couldn’t do that. Not in good conscience, at least. I needed to spare the workers here from seeing World War III explode before their eyes.

  “Just give him a chance. He’s a good man,” I finally said.

  My mom harrumphed and turned back to her reading, her disapproval evident.

  I cleared my throat, ready to change the subject. “So, your neighbor, Mrs. Jericho. She’s a piece of work.”

  My mom raised her chin, not bothering to look at me. “She’s never liked us.”

  I peered over her shoulder and saw she was more engrossed in an article about toe fungus than she was in this conversation. “Why is that?”

  My mom shrugged a shoulder. “I have no idea why someone wouldn’t like us. We’re decent humans who add to society. There’s nothing not to like.”

  I begged to differ but knew better than to say so.

  The nail tech shook a bottle of cotton-candy-pink nail polish and began twisting the top off. I pulled my feet away from her. For reasons that went beyond aesthetic, I hadn’t planned on actually getting my toes painted. “Wait!”

  The pedicurist stared at me but said nothing.

  “Is that product tested on animals?” I asked.

  She continued to stare. Slowly, she shrugged and shook her head. “Am I supposed to know that?”

  “Both pearl essence and shimmer come from herring scales—”

  Before I could finish, she put the first coat of pink on my toes. I started to argue, to launch into another speech, but I got a warning glance from my mom and sucked it up.

  “What does she do for a living?” I continued, trying to keep my mind off the nail polish.

  My mom frowned again. “I believe Mrs. Jericho is in sales.”

  I should have guessed that.

  “How about the Lennoxes? What’s your feel on them?” The conversation topic seemed safe enough to me.

  With a sharp snap, she put her magazine down and looked at me with disdain. “I don’t have a feel, Sierra. I only have facts. Feelings deceive.”

  “What do you know about them, then?” I had to work really hard to keep the edge out of my voice. Besides, anyone else would have given up by now, but not me. My mom was already mad. I’d reached the edge of the cliff and gone over. There was nowhere to go now but down, so I might as well make the most of my free fall.

  “They have little time to socialize. She loves fur. They need to cut their grass more. That’s about all I know.”

  I nodded. “Okay, then.”

  I couldn’t believe my good fortune because, lo and behold, who walked into the salon at that moment?

  Mrs. Jericho.

  There were some good things about living in a small town.

  My mom sneered as soon as she spotted her neighbor. “Did your nails get broken in all the hustle of the yard sale?”

  Mrs. Jericho sneered back. “No need to be resentful, Mai. I’m just trying to purge my house of extra junk. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Close down so early?”

  Mrs. Jericho took her place in the chair next to me. “I reached my goal, sold most of my things, and even had time to make my standing appointment here. Every Saturday at noon. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Your nails are looking kind of shabby, Mrs. Jericho,” the young technician said.

  Mrs. Jericho jerked her hand back. “I’ve been working hard. What can I say?”

  I glanced over and saw the dirt underneath her fingernail tips. Interesting. She just didn’t strike me as the get-dirty type of woman. No, she struck me as the nosy, let-me-make-life-difficult-for-everyone-around-me type of person.

  My mom and sister started talking, and I couldn’t bring myself to join in the conversation about changes in insurance plans. Maybe my sister understood that language, but I didn’t. Instead, I turned to Mrs. Jericho.

  “Look, I know we got started off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry about that.”

  She said nothing.

  I lowered my voice. “I’m worried about my parents now that they’re getting older. And then the body that was found behind their house? That’s really concerned me. Is this area safe?”

  “I’ve always felt safe here.”

  “Anyone suspicious around lately? Or anyone out of the ordinary?’

  She finally glanced at me. “Why are you asking about this again? We had this conversation last night.”

  “The best protection against crime is a nosy neighbor. Don’t you think?”

  That seemed to hit home with her, because the corners of her lips curled ever so slightly. “I do subscribe to that theory.”

  “I heard something about a dog walker. You ever have any encounters with her?”

  “Winnie? I talked to her a couple of times.”

  I had a name!

  “She seemed like a nice girl. If I had a dog, I might have hired her,” she continued.

  “I heard the Lennoxes fired her.”

  Her eyes widened. “I did hear some arguments at the house. I had no idea they fired her, though.”

  I shrugged. “That’s just what I heard. You know Winnie’s last name? I’m thinking about doing some dog walking on the side. She might have some pointers f
or me.”

  She reached into her purse. “As a matter of fact, I have her card. She was trying to drum up some business. It’s Winnie Dubois.”

  Bingo!

  My hideous pink toenails were still drying, but I had to slip away for a moment. This couldn’t wait. Flexing my toes in the air, I stood.

  “What are you doing?” my mom asked.

  “I’ve got to run to the bathroom,” I blurted.

  “You can’t go in there barefoot.”

  “But I’ve got to go!” I insisted.

  The technician rushed toward me and began trying to slip some flimsy flip-flops on me. I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to keep up the façade that I needed to go potty. Finally, the disposable shoes were on my feet, and I trotted toward the bathroom in the back.

  As soon as I closed and locked the door, I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket, opened the Internet browser, and typed in Winnie’s name. In a morbid way, I was delighted to see pages of results pop up.

  She’d done a good job advertising her dog-walking business and had included contact information. Her name even appeared on a college club website. She’d hosted an event at her place, and it included an address. I knew what I had to do before I went back home tomorrow.

  I had to do this for Big Boy’s sake. For my parents, even. Once this whole investigation was cleared up, then nothing would ruin their big day.

  Just then, someone pounded on the door.

  “Sierra, are you okay?” Reina’s voice reached through the walls.

  I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “Just fine. Coming!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I attempted to wave goodbye to Mrs. Jericho as I left, but her gaze was fixated on her electronic tablet and she didn’t bother to look up. As I walked through the parking lot, I glanced down at the car parked closest to the front door. I recognized it as Mrs. Jericho’s. It was hard to miss the bright green Beetle.