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

by Christy Barritt

  “There are a couple of closets. I guess we should look inside to make sure no one’s hiding there. After that, we check the woods.”

  Chad pulled the first closet door open, and all it revealed were pool supplies—chemicals and filters and cleaning nets. No one in there.

  As we approached the closet in the living room, I thought I heard a thump. My nerves tightened at the sound.

  A killer wouldn’t be thumping, right? Unless he wanted to lure us to the closet.

  I grabbed a poker beside the fireplace. Chad silently counted to three and then jerked the door open.

  Sure enough, there was Aunt Yori! A cloth had been shoved into her mouth, but her hands and feet weren’t bound. She blinked when she saw us, a certain haziness in her gaze.

  Chad quickly helped me pull her out. She still smelled like alcohol.

  I pulled her gag out. Her eyes were glazed as she opened and shut her mouth, lapping a dry-sounding tongue against the top of her mouth. “Am I sleepwalking?”

  “What happened?” I asked. I held onto her elbow while she found her balance.

  “I don’t know. One minute I was raiding the mini-bar in here. Then someone put a bag over my head. Next thing I knew, I was in here. I thought I was being swept away to a surprise bachelorette party. I guess not.”

  Surprise bachelorette party? “Do you remember anything about this person?”

  She shook her head. “Not a thing. Except she muttered something about stitching.”

  “Stitching?”

  “Maybe it was snitching. Yes, that was it. Snitching. So then I thought it was some kind of new bachelorette party game.”

  “You said she?” I clarified.

  “That’s right. It was a woman. Or a man with a high-pitched voice. Pretty sure that wasn’t the case.”

  A woman. That still left either Mrs. Lennox or Mrs. Jericho. Either could have easily slipped into the backyard and done the deed.

  “I felt like I was in Vegas for a minute.” She sighed. “I just love Vegas.”

  I glanced at Chad. My crazy aunt Yori was just as crazy as ever. What in the world was she talking about? Had something nefarious happened? Or had my aunt wandered into this closet of her own accord?

  Maybe this mystery was hitting closer to home than I thought.

  That night, after my aunt Yori was deemed okay by both my mother and father, everyone attempted to act normal. However, there was an undercurrent of anxiety that trickled through the room. Everyone was on edge now, wondering just what was going on.

  My mom wanted to call the police, but Aunt Yori had insisted that whoever had put her in the closet had just been joking. Then she started talking crazy again, mentioning Las Vegas and meeting celebrities. My mom and dad had looked at each other, and I could read their thoughts: they thought Aunt Yori was losing it and had been drinking too much. I was inclined to agree.

  With the power back on and Aunt Yori tucked into bed, most of the guests who weren’t staying at the house had left. Dr. Moto’s nurse called me.

  I slipped away from the crowd. They’d just begun a rousing game of Scrabble. I was happy to say that when I left, Chad was ahead of everyone else thanks to one word: zoologist.

  “The doctor said you wanted to talk to me,” she started.

  I sat in the stairway, just like I used to do when I was younger, when I waited for my parents to come home at night. I hadn’t thought about that in a long time, and the memory felt a bit like a slap to my heart.

  “I have some questions about Winnie Dubois. I was hoping you could answer them,” I started.

  “I can try.”

  “Have you talked to her since Wednesday?”

  “No, ma’am. She said she was going home after work and wanted to rest. She was tired from working two jobs and going to school.”

  “Why did she work two jobs?”

  “Same reason most people do: she was strapped for cash. She had bills to pay, including student loans. You do what you have to do.”

  “I heard she was dating someone.”

  “Yeah. His name was Nick, I think. He only came into the office once.”

  “What did you think about him?”

  She made an uncertain grunt. “I don’t know. He looked a little rough. You know how it is. You try not to judge a book by its cover, but sometimes it’s hard.”

  “Did they have any problems?”

  “If they did, she didn’t talk to me about them.”

  Well, this conversation wasn’t getting me anywhere. Not really.

  “I guess Dr. Moto liked her if he recommended her services throughout the neighborhood. That spoke volumes about her character.”

  “Well, between you and me, I smell something fishy.”

  Now we were getting somewhere!

  “What?”

  “The doctor signed off on a form. He was in a hurry that day. Anyway, he didn’t read closely enough, and he shouldn’t have given an okay in this particular case for this particular medicine. Winnie caught it and showed it to him. He was so grateful that he said anytime she needed something, he owed her one. That’s when she mentioned the dog-walking business.”

  “Is that fishy?” I asked.

  “The fishy part is that I think she forged his signature on that paper.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I walked in and saw her doing something with that stack of papers. When she saw me, she got all flustered and muttered that I should knock before walking into a room.”

  “So you think she set the doctor up, hoping to be in his good graces?”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I think.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  So maybe Winnie wasn’t as innocent as I thought.

  Maybe some other people weren’t as innocent as I thought, either. Like the doctor. But my godfather didn’t seem like the type to be manipulated.

  What if Winnie’s manipulation went further than just getting dog-sitting jobs? What if there was something far greater at stake? Something worth murdering over?

  However, my aunt Yori thought the person who’d pushed her into the closet was a woman. Dr. Moto did have a higher-pitched voice, but certainly my aunt would have recognized him.

  I shook my head, trying to make sense of things. Tomorrow evening, Chad and I were leaving. If I didn’t have the answers by then, I probably would never have them. And that seemed like a shame, kind of like an unfinished book or movie. These things needed resolution.

  A scratch sounded at the window. I tensed. Until I looked over.

  Big Boy was there, his paws splayed against the glass and his tongue hanging out.

  He was back! Again!

  Before anyone else saw me—namely, my mother—I slipped outside. The rain had stopped, but the ground was still sopping wet. Why had he come back? He seemed to appear at the worst times.

  Someone stepped outside right behind me. “Sierra! What are you doing?”

  It was Chad.

  As I started to answer, Big Boy bounded over and gave me a muddy doggy kiss.

  “Should have guessed,” Chad mumbled.

  “You caused a lot of trouble earlier,” I told him.

  He barked at me.

  “Shh,” I insisted, looking back at the house. The last thing I needed was to stir the pot any more.

  With that admonition, the dog turned and ran toward the back fence.

  I had the distinct feeling he was trying to tell me something. I took off after him.

  This definitely hadn’t been a boring trip home. Anything but.

  Suddenly, Big Boy put on his brakes. So did I, for that matter.

  I scrunched my nose as Big Boy started to do his business by the gate. I felt like I was invading his privacy as I stood there and stared at him.

  Chad caught up with me and moaned. “Disgusting.”

  “It happens.”

  When Big Boy was done, he bounded over the fence and disappeared out of sight. I almost went after him, but I
decided Big Boy might do better on his own than he would with me.

  Besides, he’d just left us another present.

  I turned to Chad. “Can you subtly go get a plastic bag? There are some gloves in the upstairs bathroom. Maybe get some of those, too. They’re in between the surgical masks and gauze.”

  “Okay.” He took a step and stopped. “Are you going to . . . ?”

  “I’m just going to protect the feces in case it rains again.” I pulled out my cell. “I’m also calling the detective.”

  “You promise?”

  “Of course!”

  As he hurried toward the house, I made good on my assurance. Detective Meadows said she was on her way.

  Since I was waiting, I bent down closer to inspect the scat in front of me. This was not my favorite way to investigate, not in any terms. But I knew the police thought there could be evidence in the waste Big Boy had left behind.

  They were right.

  There, woven in the pile, was a gold chain.

  I looked left and right to make sure no one was around, and then I squatted down. I grabbed a stick and nudged the pile of manure. In the middle was a charm.

  I pulled out my cell phone and took a picture.

  I couldn’t quite make out the design, only that it had several circles around each other, almost like a treble clef. I couldn’t be sure, and to investigate further would mean digging in more . . . literally.

  Tampering with evidence would be a little too obvious.

  Just then, on the other side of the fence, I heard a twig break.

  My skin tightened.

  What was that?

  It wasn’t Big Boy. Everything about that dog was big, and he didn’t know how to be quiet.

  No, I had a feeling that was a person.

  Did he or she know I was here? Were they waiting to pounce on me?

  That was my best guess.

  I also remembered seeing Mrs. Jericho peering over the side of this fence. Maybe that was her modus operandi. Maybe she came and went from my parents’ property by crossing backyards until she reached this gate.

  I could hardly breathe. I didn’t dare stand.

  What if the intruder was watching me? What if he or she had a gun trained on me from above? What if I was basically a sitting duck right now?

  “I got the bag!” Chad shouted, bursting from the house.

  The sudden outburst was enough to startle me. Totally startle me.

  Startle me enough that I lost my balance, and my hand landed right in . . . Big Boy’s present.

  Chapter Twenty

  “You’re telling me the evidence has been compromised?” Detective Meadows said as we stood in the backyard, both darkness and dampness surrounding us. Everyone else had been directed to stay inside.

  I nodded, hating the stench that covered my hand. “That’s correct. It was an accident. I was trying to protect the, uh . . . manure . . . when I was startled. Unfortunately, my hand landed right in the pile.”

  I couldn’t be sure, but she may have stifled a smile.

  The CSI techs, however, weren’t amused. They swabbed my hands, just in case there was any trace evidence there.

  Just before they bagged the rest of the doodie, I glanced down. It was hard to see, but I could make out just a little more of the design of the necklace than I did before. Definitely a ring of circles with a line in the middle. I hadn’t seen the design before.

  Thunder cracked overhead. Another storm was coming.

  I really wanted to get inside and take a shower. There was one other thing I needed to mention first.

  “By the way, Detective Meadows, have you looked into Winnie’s boyfriend? I think his name is Nick.”

  She paused, a very serious look in her eyes. “I have been investigating, Mrs. Davis. That’s what I’m paid to do.”

  I understood her implications. She didn’t appreciate me questioning her or snooping. I got that. “I’m not trying to overstep my boundaries.”

  She took a step away but hesitated before turning back to me. “If you must know, he’s dead.”

  “Dead?” Surprise saturated my voice. I had not expected that. “How?”

  I didn’t really expect her to answer. I wasn’t sure how much information was public versus private. But the words slipped from my lips.

  “He was electrocuted, if you must know. While trying to steal copper wiring from an AC unit the next neighborhood over.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  The detective nodded. “It will be in tomorrow’s paper, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to tell you now, especially since every time I turn around, you seem to be in the thick of things.”

  “That dog just likes me.”

  She stared at my poopy hand. “Obviously.”

  I deserved that.

  The police finished up and promised to be in touch. All I could think was: Winnie’s boyfriend was dead. How did that tie in? Had Winnie gotten the job as a dog walker just to learn the schedules of residents in the neighborhood? I knew there was big money in selling copper. Was she that desperate for some extra cash?

  And could it be a coincidence that her boyfriend had died nearly around the same time Winnie had, at least according to my estimations?

  As soon as the police walked way, I wiped my hand using a wet paper towel Chad held out to me. I couldn’t wait to go wash up properly. But there was one other thing I had to do first.

  “You can come out now, Mrs. Jericho,” I called over the fence.

  Silence.

  Chad stared at me a moment like I was crazy. I couldn’t blame him.

  “I know you’re there,” I repeated. “I’m pretty sure I can run faster than you, so all I have to do is open that gate and I’ll catch you.”

  At once I had a vision of Tommy Mitford chasing me on the school playground in third grade with a booger on the end of his finger. Was this how juvenile I’d become? I let out a mental sigh.

  Just as I reached for the gate latch, a head bobbed up. Mrs. Jericho frowned and crossed her arms. “How’d you know I was back there?”

  “I heard a stick crack.”

  “How’d you know it was me?” Her voice rose, already high pitched but climbing into the stratosphere with every word.

  People’s voices were doing that a lot lately.

  “Because you’re the typical nosy neighbor, for one. Secondly, this seems to be the way you like to come to my family’s yard. And finally, who better to spy on what’s going on than the murderer herself?”

  She gasped. “I’m not a murderer.”

  “How’d you get that dent in the hood of your car?” I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it all day. And the fact that she’d had it detailed shortly after. Maybe to remove the blood?

  “What dent?”

  “Don’t play dumb. I saw it.” Thunder clapped overhead again.

  She frowned. “I hit a deer. There. Are you happy?”

  “When?”

  “A few days ago.”

  “Is that why you had your car detailed?”

  She gasped again. “Have you been digging into my background? Uncovering how I’ve spent the past several days? Researching who I am?”

  “In a sense.” I shrugged. I really hadn’t gone that far, and it was a fluke I’d learned about her car being detailed. She didn’t have to know that, though.

  She raised her chin. “I suppose you know, then, that I lost my job with Morrison’s Music two months ago.”

  I had no idea. But I’d pretend like I did. “Motive. That’s what I call that!”

  “No!” she exclaimed. “That’s why I had my yard sale. I needed some extra cash. I like earning things the old-fashioned way—with hard work and sweat.”

  I wondered if hard work and sweat might include stealing copper wires. Was she working with Winnie and Nick for this whole scheme? Had something gone horribly wrong? Greed, betrayal, envy . . . there were so many possibilities.

  “What did you do at Morrison’s ag
ain?” I asked, hoping she wouldn’t see through me.

  “I was in sales. Why?”

  For a music company? Could that have been some kind of music note on the end of the necklace? I wasn’t a musician, so I hadn’t recognized it.

  “I’m sure being fired for . . . the reasons you were . . . had to be upsetting.” I was fishing; I admitted it. But I wanted more information.

  “Budget cuts have hit us all. What can I say? I just never expected to be a fatality.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’d been loyal to the company for ten years, you know. It’s all I had. No family, no kids, only my cat.”

  What if Mrs. Jericho discovered what Winnie was doing—maybe she even wanted in on it?—and the two had a fight? What if Mrs. Jericho, in a moment of rage, ran over Winnie?

  Motive, means, and opportunity were coming together in my mind.

  “Whatever happened to that deer you hit, Mrs. Jericho?”

  Her face went pale. “I left it in the road.”

  “Where?”

  “Just a few streets over.”

  “When?”

  She gulped. “Wednesday night.”

  The approximate night Winnie had died.

  “I’m going to have to call the police, Mrs. Jericho. I think you killed Winnie. Ran her over. She probably limped off into the woods for help. Either that, or you drug her there. Either way, you’re a cold-blooded killer.”

  I expected her to deny it. To become defiant.

  Instead, she burst into tears.

  “You’re right! I did it! It’s all my fault!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It didn’t take long for Detective Meadows to arrive again. By that time, a small crowd had gathered in the backyard. It still thundered overhead, and every once in a while, the sky would spit out a few chilly droplets. The floodlights helped illuminate the environment some.

  Mrs. Jericho was telling her story to Detective Meadows.

  “I was driving home at night. It was dark. Really dark. The lights had gone out in the neighborhood that night. I admit—I was upset and crying because I’d lost my job and nothing seemed to be going right. That’s when, out of nowhere, this woman appeared in the middle of the street. She’d run from the woods. She stopped right there. I slammed on the brakes, but I couldn’t miss her. I crashed into her and panicked. I didn’t know what to do.”