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Both of us ate our cookies and sat in comfortable silence.
I looked around the house and thought about how grateful I was to be back in Refuge Falls. “It does feel like home here. California never felt like home.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s because you were with city people. Wyoming people are much better.”
I laughed.
“People from California don’t want to come to Wyoming because it’s windy and cold. I don’t like the weather either, but it does keep people away.”
I smiled a little sadly. That sounded like something Grandma would say.
Something thudded in the distance. It sounded like it came from the back part of the house.
I jumped to my feet. Had something fallen over? Maybe a raccoon had gotten into the attic; it had happened once when I was younger.
Mercy followed me down the hallway. I opened the door to Grandma’s room. I hadn’t made any changes in here, so everything should look the same … except a window was open and the curtains were fluttering in the wind.
A strange feeling washed over me. It felt like someone had been here. “Mercy?”
She moved to the window and looked out. “I can’t see anyone. It’s getting dark.”
“Shut the window, please.” I shivered and hugged myself.
She did as I asked and turned to me. “You want to call the police?”
I shook my head, then thought back to my earlier exchange with Brian. “Brian sent me a threatening text today. Although he wouldn’t think it was threatening. He said if I didn’t come back, he would come for me.”
Mercy’s mouth hung open. “What?”
My eyes, which had been roaming around the room, caught something else out of place. One of Grandma’s drawers had been opened, revealing a box of letters that had clearly been rifled through. “That’s weird,” I murmured, sorting through the letters. Grandma had always shown me these whenever she’d been nostalgic for Grandpa—the two of them had regularly written to each other during World War II.
Before I could say anything, Mercy had her phone out and she was typing on it. “I’m texting Damon and McCrae.”
I looked up, stuffing the letters back into the box. “Nope.” I shut the drawer.
The phone made a swoop noise, and Mercy shrugged. “Already did it.”
“This was nothing,” I told her, my temper rising.
Mercy pointed at me. “Someone broke into your house and got something out of a drawer. And your ex said that he was going to come.”
I threw my hands up. “Why did you text the Armstrongs?”
“Because Damon and McCrae have always been our friends. One is the police chief and the other is a cop. I didn’t think you’d want me to dial 911 and get the fire truck and the ambulance out here too. And it’s past dinner on a Sunday night.”
“I don’t need any Armstrongs in my life.” After seeing their brother up close and personal today, I was feeling twitchy.
Ten minutes later, a white Jeep pulled up. We were waiting on the wraparound porch that went around the whole cabin. When Damon and McCrae got out, I moved toward them. “Sorry, Mercy didn’t have to text you. It was nothing.”
Mercy shook her head. “It was not nothing. Someone opened the window in her grandmother’s old room and got into her dresser drawer. And her ex threatened her today that he would be coming.”
I winced. What she said was technically true, but it was likely a coincidence. “You are blowing it out of proportion.”
“Am I? I know you don’t want everyone to know, but these are the cops.” To the two men, she said, “Her ex used to push her and punched her two different times.”
Now I was ticked. “You don’t have a right to tell my secrets to people.”
Mercy looked unflappable, just like I’d seen her in the hospital whenever we’d had to deal with a tragedy. “You live here now. You need people who know your story.”
