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  I opened my mouth, about to say, "she's not my animal, I've only had her a few days," but I just shook my head slowly instead. Casper was mine now. I was all she had. And I wasn't going to let this woman near her again if that was her attitude. Instead I said, "Maybe you should learn how to be a little nicer to animals! Or you won't be welcome back in this house again any time soon!"

  "This was a waste of time," Prue announced, her nose in the air as she flounced out the front door. I put Casper down and she ran straight for the door, even once it was slammed shut, trying to scratch her way through it to get to this woman, for some unknown reason.

  Billy stood up a little awkwardly and brushed himself down. "Perhaps I should go as well," he said.

  "Oh, you really don't have to," I said. "Don't let what happened with that woman make you leave."

  He smiled at me and headed for the door. "Maybe I should just meet you at the funeral tomorrow, George."

  Right. Okay then. "Sure," I said quickly, opening the door and seeing him out. "Take care, Billy." I closed the door quickly and looked at the mess left behind. So it looked like Billy's offer of a date was retracted before I even had a chance to reject it myself. Hang on, can you even have a date at a funeral? I leaned back against the door for a moment and mulled it over. Yes, it was definitely intended to be a date, I decided. And I had definitely been rejected.

  "Well, that was a total disaster," I said to a tired looking Jasper as I took a swig of wine. "I'm starting to wonder if I should just give up on the idea of ever making friends in this town! They all wind up being criminally offended by me." I made a face. "Or dead."

  Jasper stood and came running up to me, asking for a pat. I leaned down and petted him. "I know, I know, Jasper. At least I have you. And Casper too!" With Prue gone, Casper had dropped down onto the rug and was already in a deep sleep. I looked at the ruined rug and sighed. That would have to be a problem for later. Maybe a problem for the garbage. White rugs and dogs do not mix.

  I flicked off all the lamps and light switches and headed for the staircase, ready for bed.

  The staircase. With the lights off, it suddenly looked far more sinister.

  I gulped.

  "Come on, Georgina Irene," I said, using my full name like my mother used to do, a very long time ago. "You are made of stronger stuff than this." I forced myself to take a step. But then I made the mistake of looking up at the landing, wondering what it would be like to fall off the top, down the long flight. What it would feel like to be pushed off.

  I shook my head and made another step, grasping the banister.

  I stopped, and then decided I needed back up. I didn't usually let Jasper sleep in my room, but on this night, I pulled his dog bed up the stairs and into my bedroom so that it was on the ground next to my king-sized bed. I called for Jasper to come upstairs and within moments, he had bounded up the stairs and made himself comfy on his bed next to mine. There. Now I felt a little safer. And Jasper thought he was king of the world, getting to be the special one upstairs sleeping in the bedroom, while Casper was downstairs.

  "It's just for tonight, you hear me? We won't go making a habit of it."

  I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. All I could think about was the funeral tomorrow, though. Very hard to sleep when you are obsessing about caskets and dead bodies and holes in the ground.

  And staircases that lay just outside your bedroom.

  "There's nothing to worry about, there's nothing to worry about," I kept repeating to myself, and finally I began to drift into a deep sleep.

  I don't know how long I was asleep for, whether it was minutes or hours, but the sound of scratching brought me straight back to the land of the living.

  I bolted upright.

  "Jasper?" I asked. "Was that you?"

  I flicked the lamp on and looked at the dog bed. Jasper was still lying on it, so it hadn't been his paws scratching against the floorboards that had been making the noise. But his ears were pricked. "Did you hear it too?" Jasper jumped off his bed and ran to the door, sniffing at it and trying to use his head to budge it open. Finally, he let out a sharp bark.

  "Jasper?" I whispered. "What is it? What is it, boy?"

  My heart was beating faster. "Is there someone there?" I gulped, picturing the staircase on the other side of the door.

  Jasper let out another sharp bark. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It was probably nothing. I crept over to the door and Jasper ran through it, taking off straight down the stairs, barking wildly.

  I ran after him and turned on every light in the house. "Who’s there?" I called out. Jasper ran to the front door and barked at it, so loudly that all the neighbors must have heard him. I stood very still, trying to control my breathing. There was someone there. There was someone outside.

  There was the sound of something smashing. A glass potted plant.

  I looked around for something to grab, something I could use as a weapon if the intruder decided to come in. I hadn't realized that Jasper was such a good guard dog. I'd never seen him like this, so protective, but I was still pretty sure that he wasn't actually capable of hurting an intruder or of being truly vicious.

  Unable to find a weapon, I reached for the phone instead and dialed. "Hello, Pottsville Police station."

  Ryan's voice. I let out a small sigh, feeling just the slightest relief while Jasper barked loudly at the door.

  "Ryan? It's George. You said I could call any time. Well, I need you now. There's someone here. Outside my house."

  Chapter 6

  Ryan stepped over the broken glass carefully and wrote something down in his notebook.

  "And you didn't see anything?" he asked.

  I shook my head wildly. "No."

  He gave me a look and then quickly looked away. He'd done that a few times now. He seemed embarrassed almost, careful not to let his gaze linger on me for too long. I glanced down and realized for the first time that I was wearing a rather sheer nightgown! Ryan had arrived so quickly after my phone call that I hadn't had time to even think, let alone dress. In any case, his arrival had scared the intruder right off.

  "Excuse me, I‘ll be right back," I said, trying not to run too quickly upstairs before I grabbed my robe from behind my door.

  By the time I had returned, covered, Ryan seemed to be finished taking notes. "Looks like someone tried to break in."

  I stared at him. "I know that," I said. "They were breaking in, to get to me."

  He shook his head. "We've had a few break-ins in the area. The thieves have only taken jewelry, things like that. No one has actually been hurt." He shot me a sympathetic look. "Do you have any expensive jewelry?"

  I glanced at a dish lying on the kitchen counter that contained some of my homemade bangles that I'd discarded before bed. "No," I said. "Nothing expensive." I sighed. "Nothing that anyone would want to steal, at any rate."

  Jasper was still whimpering a little and nervously looking out the open door.

  "I'm sure it was nothing to worry about," Ryan said casually.

  "Nothing to worry about?" I stood up straight and crossed my arms. "You do realize what has happened in this town recently, don't you? A woman was killed. I'm going to her funeral tomorrow!" I exclaimed.

  "Are you?" Ryan asked. "I suppose I will see you there, then."

  "Oh." I was surprised to hear that he would be attending. "I suppose I will."

  Ryan let out a deep breath. "Look, what happened here tonight had nothing to do with your friend's accident."

  Oh, right, 'accident.' That was what we were calling it.

  He stepped over the broken pot and into the house, still making notes in his notebook. "I'm glad you called me," he said with a smile. "Even if it was nothing."

  I sighed and pulled my robe around myself tighter. He was trying to be reassuring again.

  "Even if it was 'just' someone trying to break in, that's still not nothing," I pointed out.

  "You've got Jasper here. He'll look after you.
It looks like he scared the intruder right off."

  "I'm not sure. I don't think the intruder left until you got here." I didn't want to admit it, at least not out loud, but I didn't feel safe, not at all, and I didn't want Ryan to leave.

  Jasper ran up to me and made a sad face, as though he knew what I had said. I leaned down and petted him with a sigh. "Don't worry, you did a very good job," I reassured him.

  "What's this?" Ryan asked, nodding toward something in the living room.

  I stood up straight. "What's what? Oh." I saw what he was looking at. I hurried over to the whiteboard and tried to cover it up by throwing a blanket over it but the blanket missed and ended up on the floor, leaving my sketches of Amanda and Julia right there for everyone to see. Along with the details of their deaths scrawled underneath.

  "Just some drawings I was doing. I do that in my spare time." I let out a loud laugh. "I'm not very good," I said, trying again to cover the board with the blanket. "I'm a little embarrassed for you to see them actually."

  Ryan moved up behind me and pulled the blanket back a little. "Hmmm, because it looks to me like you are doing detective work."

  I let out a little laugh. "Not detective work. Just an art project. A craft project!"

  "George." His voice was full of concern. "What's going on? I don't think it’s healthy for you to obsess about this."

  I stopped fussing with the blanket and turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not obsessing," I said. "I'm simply concerned that these two crimes have gone unsolved. And that the Pottsville Police," I said pointedly, nodding at him, "have ignored important details."

  I almost immediately regretted what I had said. I didn't have many friends in Pottsville, and I couldn't afford to lose the one I did have. I quickly checked Ryan's face to try and see just how much offense I had actually caused.

  He pulled the blanket back and looked at the board. "You really think the two are related?" he asked gently.

  "I, um," I said, a little taken aback. I'd been expecting a lecture, but he was being kind. I cleared my throat and stood up straight. "Yes, I do," I said. "I believe these women fit the same profile. They were both in their early to mid-forties, they both lived alone, and they both died as the result of a fall down a flight of stairs."

  Ryan raised his eyebrows. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or skeptical. There was definitely a flash of amusement in his eyes. "Those are coincidences, though," he said gently.

  "Yes, well, that might be. But do you know another thing they have in common?" I pulled the blanket back completely so that the board was fully exposed and tapped my finger against my most recent discovery. "See here," I said, staring at Ryan. "They were both crafters."

  Ryan stared at the board for a long while. Is he taking this seriously? Does he think I'm mad? Is he...worried about me? He finally switched his attention back to me. "A lot of women your age are into crafting though, aren't they? It's not that unusual."

  I stood up even straighter and folded my arms across my chest. "Women my age?" I arched my eyebrow.

  He looked away. "You know what I mean."

  "Yes, crafting is a popular hobby amongst us ancient old crows."

  "George..."

  "But it is also a popular hobby amongst younger women as well. And men for that matter. We have a man in my crafting circle as a matter of fact."

  He looked at me in surprise. "You do?"

  I nodded. "A very nice man. A dog lover. A very nice dog lover who has asked me to attend the funeral with him tomorrow."

  Never mind the fact that he had retracted the offer. That was a small detail that I could clear up later. The point was he had asked me. That was the important bit.

  I saw a flash of something on Ryan's face. Was it jealousy? I leaned forward a little. Come on, please be jealousy.

  "And are you going to attend the funeral with him then?" Ryan asked.

  I shrugged casually. "I'll probably just go on my own. That's more my style."

  Ryan's face dropped a little. "Oh," he said. He turned back to the board. Darn it. I'd overplayed it and turned him off as well. I wasn't having a great 'people day,' was I? He looked over the drawings of Amanda and Julia again. "George, we don't need you doing our job for us, you know."

  His tone was gentle enough but I knew there was a little bit of a sting hiding underneath.

  "Someone has to do it," I said. Again, instant regret.

  He turned to me. "I just think that maybe you're being a little...now, don't take this the wrong way..."

  I braced myself to take it exactly the wrong way. "Yes?"

  "A bit paranoid." He held his hands up. "Not that I blame you."

  I wondered if I could, at that moment, very politely kick him out of my house and ask him never to return. Friends, remember, George. You want to make friends in this town, not enemies.

  "No, I don't think I'm being paranoid," I answered calmly. "I think I'm seeing a connection that other people might have missed, that's all."

  Ryan nodded and placed his hat back on. "I'm not saying you're wrong," he said with a sigh, flinging one last glance toward the whiteboard. "I'm just saying, for your own sake, don't dwell on it."

  I followed him back to the door. "Are you worried about me?" I asked a little flirtatiously.

  He turned around and stared at me just before he exited. "I'm worried about every resident in this town. It's my job."

  "Oh."

  He shot me a little smile. "But yes, George, I am worried about you especially."

  I smiled back and leaned against the doorframe, being mindful not to walk through the smashed glass. I'd have to clean that up. It seemed like the sort of thing that could wait until morning, though. Or until the next week. Knowing me, the next month. Actually, knowing me, that glass would still be sitting there a year from now.

  "I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Ryan said. "Seeing as you're so independent and love going to things on your own, I won't offer you a lift." There was just the teeniest hint of a wink as he turned and walked down the path to his waiting police car.

  Darn it. Should have played up 'damsel in distress,' not 'independent woman.' But I'm not great at pretending to be something I'm not, at least, not long term. I stayed there, leaning against the doorframe, until Ryan climbed into his car and drove away.

  Even if he wasn't far too young for me, there was the other small matter of him being a cop. And being involved in the case I was currently 'investigating.' Going out with him, even attending a funeral with him, would be a conflict of interest. No, I decided. It was a good thing we were going separately. Besides, I didn't need a ride. I was getting used to walking everywhere. It suited me.

  "Come on, Jasper, let's go in," I groaned, noticing too late that he already had his paws in the mud outside the front door. He was desperately digging at something. "Oh, Jasper, this is really the last thing I want to deal with tonight," I said, trying to pull him away from the dirt without stepping in the broken glass. I tugged on his collar, gently but firmly, trying to pull him back to the house and once again wondering just what kind of owners raised him before I did. I loved Jasper, but they hadn't exactly raised him to be obedient. Or maybe he was just partly deaf.

  "Jasper! No!" But no matter how hard I pulled on his collar, he wouldn't budge. There was something he was desperately trying to get to.

  "Fine!" I exclaimed, giving up and letting go as I threw my hands in the air. "You win!"

  Jasper ran straight back to the dirt and pushed his nose right into it, digging for something. "Great," I said, sitting down on the stoop with a heavy sigh.

  After a few seconds, Jasper came running over to me and I saw something white in his mouth. "What is that?" I asked, sitting up straight. "Have you found a bone?"

  He dropped it at my feet. "Good boy," I said brightly, surprised, as I gave him a pat. I leaned forward and picked it up gingerly, being mindful of the dog drool and looking it over curiously. It did look rather bone-like, but it wasn't a bone.r />
  Or was it? I turned it over and tapped it. In that light, I wasn't quite sure what it was made of.

  It was white and thin and smooth, about half an inch wide and six inches long with a tapered point. I turned it over again and looked at it carefully. Huh. What was it doing in my front yard? What was it doing buried in my front yard? I placed it in the pocket of my robe for the moment.

  Jasper sat down proudly, his tongue wagging. I laughed at him. "Yes, Jasper, you've been a very good boy." I ruffled the top of his head and looked at the mud around his mouth. "You've made a very good mess for me to clean up. Thank you very much." I stood up and this time, he followed me inside. We went up the stairs and each to our beds, side by side.

  There might have been rustlings outside again that night, but I was too tired to hear them.

  Chapter 7

  "There are no dogs allowed at the funeral," I said firmly to Jasper, who was already sniffing at his leash, jumping up to try and grab it off the bench. I sighed. It was my fault. I'd been taking him everywhere with me, so as soon as I put my shoes on, for any reason at all, he took that as a sign that he was about to leave the house as well.

  But it would be entirely inappropriate to bring him to Amanda's funeral. I glanced at Casper, asleep in her bed. Maybe it would be less inappropriate to bring her along. I half-considered it for a moment, before deciding that the whole thing would be too distressing for her. She'd just gotten settled in her new home, and I didn't want to upset her.

  "You two be good," I said, before pulling the door shut. As I walked away, I caught Jasper's face, glum and unforgiving, pressed up against the glass.

  About halfway to the cemetery, dark clouds began to gather and I stopped dead in my tracks as I stared up at the sky. Walking may have suited me—I may have even been getting used to it, enjoying it for the most part—but the weather didn't. I hadn't even brought an umbrella with me. I wasn't even sure if I owned an umbrella. If I did, it was that old bright, polka dot number with yellow material and bright pink spots. Not exactly appropriate for a funeral. I glanced down at my black clothes, not my usual color but at least black would be forgiving if I got soaking wet on the walk. My hair was another matter entirely.