“And where do you think he lives? Which direction? We’ll want to talk to him. He might’ve seen someone lurking around.”
“I’m…not sure. He was coming from this way when I saw him. There’s a little path near the back corner of the meadow. There are several piles of hedge apples, unless he’s already cleaned them up.”
She nods, then turns to the officers behind her. “Cruz, you and Fox go try to find this neighbor. See if he saw anything.”
The male officer, probably in his thirties with stark black hair and tan skin, steps back, following the lead of the woman who walks out first, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun that sits atop her head. It reminds me of the ballerina buns I used to struggle getting just right for Taylor. She always hated having her hair brushed.
Once they’ve left, the sheriff turns back to me. “Now, show me where the water appeared.”
I take her down the hall, where Greta and Taylor are still working to get water out of her mattress with the towels we finally found. They stop what they’re doing and stand up, turning to face us with straight spines and fearful expressions. Taylor’s eyes find me as the sheriff gets closer.
She walks the length of the room, scanning the perimeter. Then she looks at Taylor. “And you were the one who first found the water?”
Taylor nods, hands clasped together in front of her waist. “I, um, I…got food on my shirt while we were cooking, so I cameback to my room to change. That’s when I saw the water. My laptop’s ruined. My clothes, my bed…everything’s drenched.” She leans over and pushes in on the mattress, and a trickle of water gathers around her hand despite the amount of water we’ve already dried up, proving her point.
The sheriff looks up at the ceiling, then at me. “And there’s no water in any of the other rooms? No signs of a leak?”
“No,” Greta answers for me. “We checked right away. There’s nothing. We have no idea where it could’ve come from.”
“The window was unlocked,” I add, reminding them all, searching for an explanation. “So someone could’ve come in through there and left.” I pause. Though it’s the most reasonable explanation, I know the logic doesn’t hold up. “But they would’ve had to bring the water with them to not get noticed, and this is…a lot of water.” I gesture to the pile of wet towels on the floor.
The sheriff steps out into the hall slowly, glancing into the bathroom. “Is there a back door?”
“No, just the front door. No other way in or out.”
She clicks her pen, pointing up. “And what about upstairs?”
“There’s a loft,” I tell her. “But it only has one small window. No doors or anything.”
She does a quick wave of her hand, which seems to mean something, because the remaining officer quickly shuffles past us and down the hall, poking her head into the bedroom that was once my grandma’s but will soon be mine before she enters.
While she looks around, the sheriff draws my attention back to her. “Have you had any trouble like this before? Anyone hanging around at night?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. I haven’t stayed here since I was a kid, and I’ve visited fewer than a handful of times since then. My grandma used to live here, but she and my mom had a falling out when I was young, and we stopped visiting as much. The cabin was left to my mom after my grandma passed, butwe only came back once right after Taylor was born. Mom had the neighbor, er, Conrad, check in to make sure the lawn is kept up and everything—essentially make sure the place doesn’t burn down—but until now, no one has lived here. Conrad didn’t mention any trouble when we spoke, but again, we didn’t get to talk for very long.”
The sheriff jots something down in her notepad. “We’ll want your mother’s phone number.”
“Of course.” I rattle it off to her, and she writes it down. I’m just relieved she doesn’t ask me to call her. I don’t want to have to dive into that trauma right now.
She scans the room silently. “It looks like someone’s either moving in or moving out.”
“In. My daughter and I.” I gesture toward Taylor. “We found some trash in her room that looked recent when we arrived yesterday, and it worried us, but I ordered a new lock just to be safe. And then, of course, this morning I met Conrad, and now we’re dealing with…the water.”
She looks bored, and I realize I’m rambling. Repeating myself. “Have you spoken to your mother? Asked her if there was anyone else who might have a key?”
Great.Here we go. “I tried to call, but…we’re not exactly on the best terms right now. She’s not been returning most of my calls.”
“Because you moved into the cabin?” she guesses.
“What? Oh. No.” I try to decide how to sum up Mom’s current issues with me. I missed her wedding, for one thing. A courthouse ceremony at the last minute. She surprised me with it, and asked me to attend on the day I was scheduled to meet with my lawyer a final time before the divorce decree was signed. And then there’s the divorce itself, which she desperately didn’t want me to get. Leaving Lewis, moving in here…it all feels like a betrayal to her, one that I can’t undo. And then, of course,there’s the new husband. The one closer to my age than hers. But somehow, I’m the one making the “life-ruining decisions.” Those were her words in the last text she sent me.
I force the thoughts away, realizing the sheriff is still waiting for an answer. “She’s got a lot going on right now. I’ll try to call her again, but I really don’t think anyone else has a key. No one else is really out here. I don’t even know how close Conrad is, to be honest. We own the property, which is…forty acres, I think.”
“It’s secluded,” the sheriff agrees. “But it helps to know your neighbors. When you need a cup of sugar or someone to look after things. Sounds like your mom got that part right.” She opens her mouth to say something after a pause, but we’re interrupted.
“Morris, you’re going to want to see this.”
The sheriff straightens as the officer calls to her, then moves forward past the three of us. I follow her quickly, not sure if I should, but it’s my house, and—whatever it is—I need to know.
