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

by Christy Barritt

  “What next?” Detective Meadows asked.

  “Then I realized it was Winnie. I got my sense back and got out of the car. I went to help her, but she pulled herself up from the ground and ran into the woods. I figured she was okay. Then I heard about the dead body, and I knew. I knew!” She wailed again.

  “I bet anything that Winnie’s boyfriend put her up to this new dog-walking business. He probably wanted her to stake out the neighborhood and figure out when people came and went. It makes perfect sense,” I said.

  “Mrs. Jericho, you have the right to remain silent . . .” An officer handcuffed her and led her to a squad car.

  That’s when the detective turned to me. “I feel like I should say good work, but I just can’t bring myself to let the words leave my mouth.”

  I shrugged. “It sounds like a true accident. If she’s telling the truth.” And I had a feeling Mrs. Jericho was.

  Which made me feel sorry for her. Here I’d had this big story worked up in my head about how someone had murdered Winnie because of a nefarious fur scheme or something. All along, it was just bad luck. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Making a bad judgment call.

  One more thought struck me. “Mrs. Jericho!” I called.

  She turned toward me, halfway into the police car. The officer paused also, probably wondering why I was brazen enough to stop him in the middle of an arrest.

  “How did the dog get your necklace?” I asked.

  “What necklace?”

  My muscles tensed.

  We were missing something here. I just had no idea what.

  Everyone else turned in for the night, but I was still wound up. I snuck downstairs, wanting—make that craving—something to eat.

  As soon as I opened the refrigerator door, I heard someone behind me. I instantly tensed, expecting the worst.

  “Sierra?”

  I swirled. It was Greg. Just Greg.

  I closed the door and let out a weak laugh. “What are you doing up? You scared me to death.”

  “I wanted to talk to you, actually. I’ve been looking for the opportunity to get you alone all weekend.”

  I took a step back, anticipating where this might be going. Nowhere good. “Oh, really?”

  “Sierra . . . as I started to say at rehearsal, I have everything I want in life. Everything except you. I explained that to your parents, and they invited me to come here this weekend.”

  Oh no! Not this conversation.

  “Greg, we both agreed that we weren’t right for each other.”

  “That was then,” he said. “Things have changed now.”

  “They have changed,” I agreed. “Greg, Chad—”

  “Forget about him.”

  I cringed. “I can’t do that.”

  “It’s not like you’re married.”

  “Well, actually—”

  He stepped closer. “We belong together, Sierra.”

  “About Chad—”

  “We’re such a better fit.” He reached for my arm, and I feared what he might do next.

  “Greg, I’m married!”

  He dropped his hand and stepped way back like he’d touched fire. “What?”

  I nodded, my heart twisted in knots. “It’s true. I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to tell everyone. I didn’t want to ruin my parents’ big day.”

  “I see,” he said, suddenly stiff and cold.

  “Please don’t tell anyone. I’m still trying to figure out how to break the news.”

  His fierce expression finally softened. “I won’t, Sierra. Chad is a lucky man.”

  “Thank you, Greg.”

  “I should go.” He pointed behind him and crept toward the door.

  My heart felt heavy as I watched him go—not because I wanted to be with him, but because I really knew how to mess up situations.

  My stomach grumbled. I was still hungry. Some cookies on the breakfast bar beckoned me. I inched closer and picked up one. I brought it to my nose and inhaled the sweet scent.

  My mouth salivated. I was so hungry, and this cookie looked so yummy and filling. Just one bite wouldn’t hurt anything. I raised it to my lips.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jumped so high that the cookie flew from my hand and landed in the fishbowl.

  Chad stood there, a look unlike any I’d ever seen before in his gaze.

  “You scared me.” People were doing that a lot lately.

  “You were about to eat that cookie.”

  “I didn’t eat it. I only thought about it.”

  “It was made with eggs,” he reminded me.

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “I do, actually. I saw Ms. Blankenship making them.”

  I shrugged. “You’re sure? Because people are doing some pretty innovative things nowadays, not just vegans.”

  “Sierra, in the years since I’ve known you, you’ve never, ever considered eating meat or any kind of animal byproduct. Yet you almost just ate a cookie. What’s going on?”

  I shrugged again. “I guess it’s just the stress of everything going on lately. It almost got the best of me.”

  What had just happened? If Chad hadn’t just walked in, I would have eaten that cookie. Not only that, but I was concocting real-life 101 Dalmatians stories, obsessing about a murder that was accidental, and theorizing that my parents had lost their minds. I just didn’t feel like myself at all.

  He gripped my elbow. “I think you need to get some rest, Sierra, before you do something you regret.”

  I nodded. “You’re right. It’s been a busy weekend. I’m not thinking clearly.”

  “I’ll rescue the fish from certain cookie death.” He kissed me and started toward the goldfish bowl.

  As I shuffled off to bed, all I could think about was that cookie, though.

  “Sierra, would you get that box you picked up at the office yesterday? Your mom said it’s in the garage,” Ms. Blankenship asked me in the morning. “The napkins she ordered for the reception are in there, and your mom said we might as well use them for breakfast. No need for everything to go to waste.”

  I was helping her put together breakfast and had agreed to make the oatmeal, put together a fruit salad, and arrange some pastries. Meanwhile, Ms. Blankenship fixed the sausage and eggs.

  I told her okay, went to the garage, and ruffled through things until I found the square little box I’d picked up from my mom’s office yesterday. I carried it inside and placed it on the kitchen counter.

  “It’s good to have you home again, Sierra,” Ms. Blankenship said, stirring some scrambled eggs.

  “Thanks, Ms. B.”

  “I know things may seem strange, but I know your family is glad to have you here, too.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Life changes all of us, my girl. Sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. Your parents aren’t who they used to be, even if you might view them as such.”

  She might as well have been speaking Yoda-ese, because she was making no sense.

  Even stranger was the fact that the eggs she cooked actually looked good. I hadn’t craved eggs in years. Years. But right now they smelled so good. What was wrong with me?

  “Tell me about that boy you brought with you,” Ms. B. continued.

  “Chad? He’s great. He likes me . . . well, for me.” I arranged a few pastries on the plate.

  “He seems really taken with you. I can tell you have a great bond.”

  I smiled, one of the first real smiles I’d had since I came home. “Thanks, Ms. B. I appreciate that.”

  “I always knew you were going to take life by the horns one day. It seems like you’ve done just that. You’ve become your own person.”

  “I’ve tried to. You were a big part of that, Ms. B. I always felt like you were one of the only people who understood me growing up. You actually cared about what I liked. You listened to me when I spoke. Thank you.”

  She paused
from cooking and gave me a big hug. I melted into her arms, feeling like a little girl again. “I always wished things were different. I wish that back then, your parents were more like they are now.”

  “Now?” I blurted the question. Instead of apologizing and claiming I didn’t mean it when I did, I shook my head. “Zebras don’t change their stripes, Ms. B.”

  “No, but sometimes things change beneath the surface. You may not see it with your eyes, but you can feel it with your heart.”

  There she went again with her Yoda-isms. I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I found some scissors and sliced the tape on top of the box.

  Just then, my mom breezed into the room. “The napkins?” she said. “Great. Just put them on the edge of the table.”

  I nodded and reached into the box. Instead of pulling out a handful of napkins, I pulled out a handful of . . . pregnancy tests.

  “What are you doing?” my mom asked, her voice just below a screech.

  I stared at my hand. “What are these?”

  “You picked up the wrong box! You were supposed to pick up the napkins!”

  “You said the square box. How was I to know?”

  My mom waved her hands. “Put those down before someone sees them. That box was supposed to be delivered to the Obstetrics and Gynecology office next door. I set them out so we could take them to their rightful owner.”

  I resisted a sigh.

  Ms. B. was wrong. Some people never changed.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I went to mass with my family after breakfast. It had been my sister’s husband’s idea, and no one seemed to have any good excuses not to. My mom was still in a foul mood, but she’d gone along with everyone else.

  I went to a nondenominational church with my friend Gabby back at home on occasion, and I’d found myself becoming more and more curious about the things the pastor talked about. Gabby and I had some good conversations about religion versus living for Jesus. I wasn’t totally sold on the idea of becoming a Christian, but I felt myself inching closer to making a decision.

  I couldn’t help but think the church back home in Norfolk fit my personality better than the very formal service we were in now. The very formal and proper service, however, fit my parents to a T.

  Beside me, my mom was even more solemn than usual. I still couldn’t reconcile the idea of my tiger mom deciding to buy clothing worn by celebrities. That fit together about as well as a jackalope.

  With Chad on one side of me, I glanced down my row. Reina sat beside me, followed by Mark, Mom, Dad, Aunt Yori, Greg, and Dr. Moto. The sanctuary was filled, if I had to guess, with around four hundred people, all properly dressed. Everyone rose and sat with the precision of a high school marching band.

  I tried to focus on what the priest was saying, but my mind replayed everything that had happened since I arrived here in Connecticut. I’d reviewed everything last night as I lay in bed, as well.

  Had Winnie’s boyfriend been stealing copper when he forgot to cut the power line? Not only had the power in the entire neighborhood been cut, but he’d also been fried. Maybe Winnie had been with him and freaked out afterward. She darted from the scene.

  Since the power was out, the streets were dark. Mrs. Jericho, who’d admittedly been upset, didn’t see Winnie sprint into the middle of the road. She’d hit her and come to her senses, but by the time she got out to help, Winnie had fled.

  Mrs. Jericho panicked, cleaned her car up, and hoped all would turn out well. But then Winnie’s body was discovered in the woods. Guilt had eaten her up, but that guilt quickly turned into fear. She’d tried to make sure no one found out what happened. I was sure the reaction wasn’t all that uncommon. She’d probably even made it a point to talk kindly about Winnie that day at the salon in an effort to further cover her tracks.

  What didn’t fit in my mind was Big Boy’s role in all of this. The dog seemed fond of Winnie, that much was obvious. He’d followed her scent into the woods after she died, discovered her body, and led authorities to her.

  But what about the necklace? Was it a fluke? Or did it somehow tie in with this case?

  “That priest is handsome, Sierra,” Aunt Yori blurted, a little too loudly.

  Several people turned to stare.

  “Want me to see if he’s single?”

  “Yori!” my mother reprimanded.

  I stifled a giggle. Though it had been totally inappropriate—not to mention the fact that I was married now—Aunt Yori always had a way of both breaking and causing tension at the same time.

  As the congregation rose for another reading, I glanced around. My gaze stopped at the Lennoxes. They were here? Interesting.

  What disturbed me was the fact that Mrs. Lennox wore a brown-and-white shrug around her neck. It was furry . . . and it reminded me of Big Boy.

  As I walked out of the church, I made sure my path crossed with the Lennoxes’. Mrs. Lennox smiled, though the motion never reached her eyes. Instead, she pulled her shrug closer.

  It was chilly outside, but it wasn’t that chilly.

  I paused, reining in all my “I’d rather be a frigid idiot than wear a fur” speeches. Instead, I nodded toward the atrocity around her shoulders. “Those colors . . . they remind me of something.”

  A touch of what appeared to be shock widened her eyes. She rubbed the gaudy and inhumane accessory. “The colors are nice, aren’t they? This is a part of the new line we’re debuting.”

  “You’re heartless—” I started.

  Before I could say anything, Chad pulled me away.

  “You bred Big Boy, didn’t you? Are those his puppies?” As the words left my mouth, I realized how absurd they sounded. But what other explanation could there be? People had said the Lennoxes didn’t even like animals.

  Chad tugged harder, leading me away from the gawking couple. That was probably better. The last thing I needed was to have a war of words here at church. Especially in front of my mother. Not to mention the commentary Aunt Yori might offer up in the process.

  Anger burned inside me, though. How could people be so cruel and heartless? I just didn’t understand it.

  When we left church, the sky was a glorious blue with not a cloud in sight. I gulped in some fresh air, trying to calm down. But I couldn’t get that shrug out of my mind.

  “Should we call her Cruella?” Chad asked.

  I frowned. “It appears. Maybe that’s why Big Boy doesn’t want to be caught. He’s afraid he’ll be next.”

  “It would be pretty extreme for someone to do this, don’t you think?”

  I shrugged. “They inherited the company. Maybe they want to try something new and innovative in order to make a name for themselves.”

  I climbed into the driver’s side, needing to focus my thoughts. Driving would do that, and Chad didn’t mind if I was behind the wheel. Part of me wished we were driving back home right now. The other part of me still wanted more answers, more confirmations that something was still wrong.

  We were supposed to eat a light lunch, and then tonight a few friends were coming over so we could eat the food from the ceremony-that-wasn’t. My parents had already paid the caterer, and there were gobs of food in the garage fridge, apparently.

  “Hard to believe the weekend is almost over, isn’t it?” I asked. I felt like I’d been here a month with everything that had happened.

  “Yeah, I guess there’s a big job lined up for tomorrow. Gabby’s going to need a hand.”

  “I figured we’d leave after dinner. That will put us getting back around midnight. Does that work?”

  “Sounds fine. I’m just sorry things didn’t work out for your parents.”

  I frowned, remembering how disastrous this weekend had been. “Me, too.”

  We had to go home and clean up the mess Big Boy had made in the backyard last night. It was going to be a dirty job, and I couldn’t easily imagine my parents, their doctor friends, or Sharo helping.

  As I drove, Chad played on his phone be
side me.

  “Those outfits your parents are collecting are pricey. Like crazy pricey. What did your dad say? More than $10,000? It looks like some of those others are worth close to $5,000.”

  “They only have value if people are willing to pay.”

  “I never saw your parents as the type to collect clothes, of all things. Maybe coins or stamps or artwork. But clothing?”

  I shrugged. “You got me. I didn’t see this coming either. Maybe my parents are having a midlife crisis.”

  “Sure enough, look at this. It’s Dolly Parton wearing that dress that’s in your parents’ house.”

  I glanced over. Something about the outfit struck me. What was it?

  I swerved my eyes back to the road. I couldn’t let my gaze linger on the picture too long.

  But as I thought about the leather number I’d seen in my parents’ house, I realized the naughty-looking slit was on the wrong side.

  Had my parents bought a counterfeit? Was the photo a mirror image, reversing the look of the dress? Or was I reading too much into this?

  I’d been doing a lot of reading into things lately.

  My parents had already had a miserable weekend. To bring something like this up seemed to only be inviting more tension. Besides, if the dress was fake or not, it made them happy. Maybe ignorance truly was bliss.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Before we got out of the van, Chad pulled me toward him and planted a kiss on my lips.

  “What was that for?” I asked.

  “It’s one reason I’ll be happy to get home. At least I can act like your husband and not some unwanted boyfriend.”

  “Isn’t unwanted strong?”

  “Your aunt Yori wanted to fix you up with the priest,” Chad reminded me.

  “Well, there was that.” I couldn’t deny it.

  “Are you still planning on telling your parents?”

  At the mere mention of it, my shoulders tightened with subconscious anxiety. “They’ve had such a bad weekend.”