Magnolias, Moonlight, and Murder by Sara Rosett - A Mom Zone Mystery 04 - Magnolias Moonlight & Murder

Author:Sara Rosett - A Mom Zone Mystery 04 - Magnolias, Moonlight & Murder [Rosett, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780758226815
Google: 5EfVgZk7ut8C
Amazon: 0758226810
Goodreads: 6053281
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2008-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

“It’s all in here in the garage,” Nita said. She opened the door and I followed her down a short set of stairs. A blue Jetta took up one side; the other was stacked with boxes. Nita’s gold Taurus was parked in the driveway and Gerald wasn’t home, so the blue car must be Jodi’s.

“We have her furniture in a storage unit,” Nita said as she walked down a narrow path between the boxes, scanning the writing on the sides of them. “Of course, this is just what was left after the investigators took what they thought was important. The FBI still has her computer.”

“The FBI is involved in Jodi’s case?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes, there are several agencies involved in her case. The FBI, the GBI—that’s Georgia Bureau of Investigation—the sheriff’s office. Some are more involved than others.” She sounded weary and her shoulders drooped as she ran down the list. She stopped about halfway down the aisle and rested her hand on a stack of boxes. “Everything is labeled. These were from her office at the house. This is where I think you should start.”

“It doesn’t look like you need any help with organizing anything,” I said doubtfully.

“No, I know where her things are.” She ran her hand over the tape that sealed the box before continuing. “Honestly, I can’t bear to look through Jodi’s life right now. Every small thing will bring back a memory. I’d get lost in memories.” She blinked a few times, then said briskly, “I can’t allow myself to do that. There’s too much to do.”

I nodded and swallowed. If Nita wasn’t going to cry, I wouldn’t let myself either, but I could see how torn up she was.

“I’ll leave you to look around.”

Nita left and I sighed. She’d described all this stuff as Jodi’s life, but it was a life on hold, frozen until there was some resolution. Maybe it was because it was gloomy in the garage—there was only one window and one overhead light—but a feeling of sadness seemed to permeate the place. Once, when Mitch and I were looking at houses, we stepped inside the front door and I knew immediately that neither one of us liked the dark, almost sad, room. Our agent had scurried around opening curtains as he said, “Sometimes houses get in a funk. They have a bad vibe to them.”

This garage definitely had a bad vibe that made me want to get out. I gripped the corner of the tape and pulled. The rip seemed to echo around the open space. I pulled back the flaps and dug into the box. We’d moved so often I was pretty good at assessing what was in a box by looking at a few things on the top layer or two. This one held personal bills. The next box was clippings of her newspaper articles. I heaved those aside and opened the third one. It contained more articles, office supplies, and some framed photographs wrapped in newspaper. The next box held thick spiral-bound notebooks.

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