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

by Christy Barritt

“You’re sure she’s not in the apartment?”

  Mandee shrugged like she didn’t have a care in the world. “It’s kind of hard to hide a snake like that.”

  “That’s true,” I conceded. “But she didn’t just disappear. You’re right about that. You didn’t hear anything last night?”

  She pushed her glasses up on her nose. I noticed that she’d gotten some plastic frames a couple of weeks ago that were almost like mine. It was probably a coincidence, but it was a little strange. The only real difference in our frames was that hers were pink.

  What kind of respectable adult wore pink frames?

  “No, not really,” she said.

  “What do you mean: not really?”

  She shrugged, almost looking sheepish. “A local theater was doing an all-night marathon of My Little Pony cartoons. I only lasted until 3:30. I know it sounds weird. I wasn’t sure if I should mention it.”

  I had so much I could say about that, but I kept it all to myself for the sake of remaining civil. “We’ve got a problem here, Mandee.”

  “That’s why I called you.” Mandee beamed. “You’re the smartest person I know. If anyone can locate this snake, it’s you.”

  Being up on a pedestal had both its perks and its downfalls. This would be a downfall. Snake hunting wasn’t at the top of my priority list.

  I sighed and glanced around. “Was the window open?”

  “Nope. Already checked. It was locked and secure. All the windows were.”

  “There are really so few options as to where she could have gone.” I began pacing the room. Every time I passed one of the snakes, I shivered. Why anyone would want to keep one of these reptiles in their home was beyond me. They deserved to be in nature . . . far, far away from humans.

  I paused by one of the terrariums. It rested on a stand against the wall, and a corn snake tried climbing up the glass inside. He wavered back and forth as if something invisible teased him.

  Something on the floor behind the wooden base of the vivarium didn’t look right.

  “Look at this, Mandee.” I pointed to the tight, narrow space between the stand and the wall.

  She squeezed beside me and squatted for a better look.

  “It’s an AC vent.” She said it dead serious, like I’d lost my mind.

  I stopped myself before scowling at her. “Exactly. But it’s not on correctly.”

  She scooted the terrarium out of the way to get a better look. Sure enough, there was a six-inch gap where the wooden floor and the metal sides of the vent cover were supposed to meet.

  “You don’t think . . .” Mandee looked up at me, and her lips parted in horror.

  “I think that’s where the snake went,” I told her bluntly.

  “But that would mean . . .”

  “That Chalice could be anywhere in this building.” I cringed at the thought. A snake that large was nothing to be played with.

  She fanned her face. “Oh, that’s bad. That’s really bad. I’ve got to find Chalice, Sierra!”

  An hour later, Mandee and I had knocked on every door in the apartment complex. Five other residents checked their apartments and hadn’t found anything unusual or frightening slithering through their space. I didn’t think they realized just how large the snake was because everyone looked behind pillows and potted plants. I didn’t bother to correct them; it was better if they didn’t know what they were up against.

  Only one person hadn’t answered their door, and, unfortunately, it was located on the first floor right below Patrick’s apartment. Sensibly speaking, this apartment was the most likely place for the snake to go while slithering through the ductwork.

  “They could be at work,” I said as we stood outside the door.

  Mandee shrugged. “Could be.”

  “You know anything about whoever lives here?” Reef had fallen asleep, and right now he nestled against my chest, looking absolutely adorable. I could stare at him all day.

  If only I didn’t have to work or help find this snake.

  Mandee shrugged again and frowned. “The guy’s name is Tag. He’s not very friendly. At least, that’s been my impression when our paths have crossed. I really can’t remember anything else about him.”

  “Look, like I said, he’s probably at work. Why don’t we walk outside and see if we can look into his apartment? If the snake’s in there, maybe we’ll see her. We can call the landlord and, with any luck, the snake will be gone before Tag gets home from work.”

  “I knew you’d know exactly what to do. Thanks, Sierra!” She threw her arms around me and nearly woke up Reef.

  Honestly, I wasn’t much of a hugger. Even in the post-pregnancy hormonal craziness, I still wasn’t a hugger. But I knew the sentiment behind Mandee’s action was respectable. And Reef didn’t wake up, so it was all good.

  We stepped out into the warm September day. I dodged a few generic-looking shrubs around the perimeter of the faded yellow-brick building and stretched on my tiptoes near the first window. Thankfully, the shades were open so I could see inside with relative ease. The glare of the low-hanging September sun partly obstructed my view.

  I cupped my hands around my eyes and squinted, trying to get a better look. I spotted a navy-blue couch, an oversized recliner, and a kitchen beyond that.

  My perusal came to an abrupt stop, though.

  What was that?

  I pushed myself up farther on my toes, desperate to get a better look.

  It couldn’t be . . .

  But it was.

  Two legs stuck out on the other side of the couch. And an extremely long, scary tail poked out beside it.

  I’d found the snake, but, unfortunately, it appeared to be too late.

  Chapter Two

  Thirty minutes later, the police were on the scene, as well as Animal Control, an ambulance, and a fire truck. The medical examiner and her team hauled Tag from his apartment on a gurney, with a sheet over his face.

  I closed my eyes as he passed, offering a moment of respect for the dead.

  Death by a snake squeezing all the air out of you wasn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy. And I had a lot of evil, vile enemies—people who killed for profit. Who killed animals for profit, I should clarify. But, in my book, that was a wretched thing to do, especially when people did it so they could have a leather coat or a good steak dinner or a comfy down blanket.

  Lives were more important than comfort or style or cravings.

  As officials put Tag into the back of a van, the Animal Control folks tried to capture Chalice, the python and a cold-blooded killer. Last I’d heard, she’d slithered under a bed and officials were trying to get her out while remaining unscathed.

  I’d overheard some of the officers talking about some manure on the bottom of Tag’s work boots. Apparently, he’d been out on a farm for some reason. That scent of livestock would have lured a snake like Chalice right down to the apartment, and Tag would have seemed like a lamb ripe for the slaughter, especially if he was sleeping.

  Could one really blame the snake for doing what she’d done? I was sure they would. But the snake was just doing what her nature led her to do. She was programmed, by instinct, to look for food and to watch out for enemies.

  Mandee sobbed in the parking lot while pacing and mumbling, “This is my fault. It’s all my fault.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” I told her for the twentieth time. I’d given up trying to give her any awkward pats on the back. I was still new at this motherly, nurturing type of thing. It seemed to come naturally only with Reef and no one else.

  The police had already questioned Mandee and me when they first arrived on the scene. We explained everything that happened, and the detective asked us to hang around, which was getting tricky with Reef, who was on the edge of stirring.

  His precious little arms stretched, and his mouth made a suckling motion, but his eyes remained closed.

  I glanced at my watch, suddenly feeling anxious. Reef’s sleep time was my
work time. It was the only way I could manage everything—and managing was a strong word. I was handling things, at best.

  I had a million things to do at home—I couldn’t seem to stay on top of my to-do list now that I was a mom, and that included my schedule for both work and home. I was trying to balance both and doing a terrible job at the moment. Thankfully, Chad was gracious and didn’t seem to mind that laundry piled up, dust gathered, and cat hair formed small kittens in the corners.

  Tag’s death was a terrible tragedy, but that was all. There was no malicious intent or premeditation. It was a horrible accident that no one could have foreseen.

  Right now, a detective questioned the neighbor across the hall from Patrick. She was a forty-something woman who was considerably overweight and had bushy, brown hair. We’d talked to her right before we’d gone outside and seen the snake.

  She’d told Mandee and me that she hadn’t seen any snakes and that she hated snakes, for that matter, and if she did see a snake, she’d be suing Patrick—right after she cut the snake’s head off. She’d react first and think later.

  The neighbor seemed as animated and opinionated as I expected as the detective questioned her. Perhaps it was because she had his rapt attention and, whether he liked it or not, he had no choice but to listen as she gave her statement.

  “Did your neighbor Tag have any problems with anyone?” the thirty-something detective with rumpled clothes and coffee breath asked. Detective DePalma was his name.

  The woman—I thought her name was Angel—shook her head before stopping abruptly. “I would say no, in general. He was a pretty affable guy. But, now that I think about it, I did see him arguing with someone in the hallway yesterday.”

  Detective DePalma shifted, probably grateful for the break so his ears could have a rest. “Who was that?”

  Angel’s eyes scanned the parking lot before coming to a stop. She raised her arm until one finger pointed across the lot. “Her.”

  I followed the invisible line, knowing before I reached the end whom she was pointing at.

  Mandee.

  My intern let out a gasp and then, “No. No. No. No.”

  The word came more quickly and loudly the more she said it.

  And all of that was enough to wake Reef from his slumber. He let out a wail.

  And my day just got a lot longer.

  “It wasn’t like that.” Mandee ran a hand through her hair again. She’d done it so many times that her bangs were getting greasy and beginning to stand up straight like a crowned crane’s feathers. “I promise.”

  “Tell me one more time about the argument with this man the neighbors called Tag,” Detective DePalma said.

  I rejoined the conversation after feeding Reef. I resisted the urge to glance at my watch because I knew that would be rude. However, I had so much to do—had I mentioned that? My to-do list consumed my thoughts.

  Piles of work still waited for me from my maternity leave. I hadn’t even gotten a shower this morning because, once I’d finally gotten to sleep, I’d overslept.

  I didn’t like my life being out of order, and having a baby seemed like the perfect formula for things getting crazy. But as I glanced down at a sleepy Reef, I smiled.

  I knew I wouldn’t trade him for anything. Ever. He and Chad were the best things to happen to me.

  “It was no big deal. I’m just here pet-sitting—”

  Animal-companion sitting, I mentally corrected her. First rule of being an animal rights activist: realizing that people don’t have pets. People had companion animals because that showed we were all sharing this thing called life together.

  “When did you start pet-sitting?” Detective DePalma asked.

  “Two days ago on Tuesday.” Just as Mandee finished her sentence, a team of men from Animal Control emerged from the apartment building holding Chalice.

  The snake was huge—and I do mean huge. Mandee had said thirteen feet, but I calculated her to be longer. And if it took five men to carry her out, she must be heavy.

  She had lovely yellow spots, though, and subtle lavender-tinted skin beneath. Even with the pretty coloring, I still shuddered as they passed us. I wouldn’t want to tangle with that snake. No way. Nor would I want a snake like that living anywhere near my apartment building.

  “Where’s the tenant of the apartment . . .” He looked down at a pad of paper in his hands. “Mr. Patrick Roper?”

  “He’s in the rain forest of Costa Rica until late next week. He knew he wouldn’t have cell service, so he didn’t even take his phone. He’s a free spirit like that.” Mandee tugged at her braid.

  “How many snakes does he have?” The detective sounded monotone and really quite uninterested in all of this. And his coffee breath could be smelled from two feet away. That had to be some kind of record.

  How could he be uninterested? I was sure this would be the talk of the precinct. Those cops were used to shootings and drug overdoses and domestic violence. All those things were terrible. Terrible.

  But death by a snake? This was the stuff water-cooler conversations thrived on.

  “Seven,” Mandee said. “There were seven snakes. One gecko. Two frogs.”

  The detective slid his sunglasses on as the sun sank lower behind us—in front of him—and created a blinding glare. “And are you a snake specialist?”

  Mandee blinked, three clumps of hair still standing up straight and making her look a little crazy. But it was her wide eyes that stopped me in my tracks. They were so circular that, for a minute, she reminded me of a . . . snake.

  “A snake specialist?” She asked the question it as if she might be contemplating affirming the statement. “No, I just like animals. I wanted to help my friend out.”

  “When was the last time you saw . . .” He glanced at his pad of paper. “Chalice?”

  She rubbed her hands on her jeans and swallowed hard. “Last night when I fed her. She looked perfectly content. Everything looked normal, and, I assure you, there were no red flags.”

  “Uh huh.” The detective didn’t look or sound impressed. “And did you put the lid back on the snake’s habitat?”

  “Of course, I did!” Her face dropped. “I think. I mean, I usually do. What if I didn’t? But the latch was broken. I figured it was okay, though.”

  I closed my eyes. The poor girl was just digging her hole deeper and deeper. I wanted to intercede, but I wasn’t sure how to help. I had a tendency to stir up trouble instead of settle it down, despite what I considered good intentions.

  The detective shifted and raised his chin. I couldn’t see his eyes because of his sunglasses, but I’d bet they were full of doubt.

  “So it’s a possibility that the lid wasn’t all the way on?” he asked.

  Mandee shrugged, the whites of her eyes visible again. “I suppose.”

  “Is it also a possibility that you moved the vent cover out of the way in hopes that the snake might make a visit to Tag?” There was no humor in the detective’s voice. No humor at all—only accusation.

  Mandee gasped again. “No! I had no idea that vent cover wasn’t all the way on. Why would I? I didn’t make it a habit to check behind all the tables in the room. I just assumed things were in place and as they should be. You can ask Sierra. She was the one who found the vent.”

  Detective DePalma turned toward me, and I forced a smile and a wave. Here I was, trying to stay out of things and be a good mom while still maintaining my job and life’s passion. How had I gotten drawn into all of this?

  At that moment, my cell phone rang in my back pocket. It was probably Chad calling to check on Reef. The man was obsessed with his baby. He called whenever he had the chance and even liked to talk ga ga goo goo into the phone.

  I thought it was adorable.

  I ignored the beeping sound and kept my attention on the detective. “It’s true. I did notice the vent wasn’t fully on. I realized the snake had to go somewhere, that she hadn’t disappeared into thin air. With all of the windows
closed and no sign of her in the apartment, I figured she’d gotten out some other way.”

  “I see.” The detective bobbed his head up and down like a fishing lure on a balmy day.

  But all the pieces had fallen in place too easily, hadn’t they? The latch was broken. The vent cover moved. The neighbor had smelled like farm animals, which had probably lured Chalice right to him.

  I didn’t believe in coincidences of those proportions.

  “But there’s one other thing you haven’t considered,” I continued, kicking myself for getting involved. But I just couldn’t stop myself.

  “What’s that?”

  I launched my theory out there, knowing good and well it might sound crazy. “What if someone took the snake and moved the vent cover to make it appear she’d escaped? Maybe this isn’t Mandee’s fault at all.”

  The detective blinked at me like I was a moron. It was times like these I wanted to pull out my college degree, all of my awards and accolades, and display them proudly. But I couldn’t fall back on those things. I could only stand on my strengths of the moment.

  The fact that I had spit-up on my shoulder probably didn’t do much for my credibility.

  “Why would someone do that?” the detective asked.

  “Maybe they wanted the snake for themselves. Or maybe they didn’t like it in the apartment building and wanted to get rid of it,” I offered.

  Detective DePalma actually pulled his sunglasses down and stared me in the eye for a moment. “So how would it have ended up in Mr. Wilson’s apartment then?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows? We don’t know who has a key to Patrick’s apartment, who knew the snakes were there, or who knew Patrick was out of town. Maybe Tag Wilson took the snake himself but quickly discovered she was too much to handle.”

  I thought my theory sounded plausible. My best friend, Gabby, who had a habit of getting involved in police investigations, would be proud right now. I was thinking like she did.

  The detective scooted his glasses back up and turned toward Mandee, totally dismissing my theory. “Tell me about your argument with Tag.”