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I absently opened the mailbox and reached in. My hand closed around the mail, but also something that was furry. “What the heck?” I wondered out loud.
I pulled out the mail and instantly dropped it. Not only were there letters and newspapers, but there was also a dead squirrel. I couldn’t help but recoil in horror, the sight of the lifeless creature sending a shiver down my spine. Its once vibrant fur was now matted and stained with blood, its glassy eyes staring lifelessly into the distance.
The smell of decay hit me like a punch to the gut, making my stomach churn with nausea. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the gruesome sight, my mind reeling with disbelief at the sheer absurdity of finding a dead squirrel in my mailbox.
Before I could fully process what had just happened, I stumbled backward and tripped over the curb. The ground rushed up to meet me with alarming speed, the hard asphalt unforgiving as it scraped against my skin. Loose rocks dug into my palms and knees, leaving behind a trail of cuts and bruises that throbbed with pain.
“Dorothy!”
I winced as I felt the sting of the injuries, my hands trembling as I tried to push myself up off the ground. I struggled to regain my footing. I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that hung heavy in the air.
Strong arms lifted me off the ground and set me back on my feet, the familiar warmth of Rocco’s touch offering a small measure of comfort in the midst of the chaos.
“Babe, what the hell happened?” Rocco’s voice was laced with concern as he surveyed the scene before him.
I tried to brush the gravel and dirt from my hands, but it only served to push the rocks deeper into the cuts, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from me. “I was just getting the mail,” I muttered, my voice tinged with frustration and disbelief.
“And you thought you would just check out the road?” Rocco’s tone was incredulous, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“No,” I grumbled, my annoyance growing with each passing moment. “I pulled out the mail, and there was a freaking dead squirrel in there, Rocco.”
“What?” Rocco’s eyes widened in shock as he took in the gruesome sight. “It was in the mailbox?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
I nodded, my stomach churning with unease. “Yeah. I just reached in because what else would be in the mailbox but mail, right? As soon as I realized what it was, I dropped it and stumbled.”
“Jesus,” Rocco muttered, his expression darkening with concern.
“I know we said it must be a coincidence with the dead animals on my porch, but something tells me this isn’t a coincidence,” I remarked, my voice trembling with uncertainty. “Last I checked, dead squirrels didn’t deliver mail.”
Rocco kicked the dead squirrel into the gutter and gathered the scattered mail from the ground. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, babe. Can you walk?”
I glanced down at my injured knees and winced; the pain radiated through my body with each movement. “I should be able to make it to the bathroom.”
Rocco guided me into the funeral home and to the bathroom with a steady hand, his touch gentle yet firm as he supported me. Once inside, he wasted no time helping me clean up.
He retrieved the first aid kit from the cabinet and set it down on the counter, his brows furrowed in concern as he assessed the extent of my injuries. With practiced ease, he cleaned the dirt and gravel from my wounds, his touch gentle yet firm as he dabbed at the cuts with antiseptic.
As he worked, I couldn’t help but marvel at his tenderness and the way he treated me as though I were the most precious thing in the world. It was a stark contrast to how I had been treated in the past.
Without realizing it, tears began to trickle down my cheeks, the overwhelming mix of pain and gratitude threatening to overwhelm me. “Does it hurt that bad?” Rocco’s voice was soft with concern as he glanced up at me, his eyes filled with worry.
I sniffled and shook my head, trying to blink away the tears. “No, I think I’m just being a baby,” I managed to choke out, the words coming out in a shaky whisper. The pain was manageable, but it was mostly him being so sweet and caring for me.
As Rocco continued to clean and bandage my wounds, I couldn’t help but wonder who could be behind such a cruel and senseless act. “Who keeps leaving dead squirrels and birds for me to find?” I asked, my voice trembling with emotion.
Rocco’s expression darkened with concern as he finished tending to my injuries and cleaned up the mess. He helped me to stand and led me to one of the couches in the viewing room; his arm wrapped protectively around my shoulders.
“You have no clue who would do this?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration.
I shook my head, the tears still streaming down my cheeks. “I don’t talk to anyone, Ro,” I cried. “The only people I talk to are you and Imogen, and then whoever comes in for a funeral. I don’t think I’ve done anything to piss someone off.”
“Maybe it’s just some neighborhood kids,” he suggested.
That was the only solution that made sense.
This was sleepy little Jackson, and nothing ever happened. Well, this had been where the Bings had tried to frame Imogen and Mace for murder, but besides that, nothing ever happened here.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Maybe I could just talk to the police and let them know what is going on. I’m not sure it’s a crime to plant dead squirrels on people’s porches and mailboxes, but I have to try to do something.”
