Mourning After by Stephanie Damore

Author:Stephanie Damore [Damore, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sweet Promise Press
Published: 2018-11-23T06:00:00+00:00

7

Gran's house felt empty when I walked in, which was dumb because of course it was empty. But it was more than that. I couldn’t shake the unsettling feelings that followed me into the kitchen. It hung in the atmosphere like a dark cloud. On the countertop, the coffee pot was still plugged in, the carafe filled to the brim with stale, burnt coffee. A carton of half-and-half was on the counter. I untwisted the plastic cap and dumped the warm contents down the sink. I then moved around the house, opening windows as I went, letting in the fresh mountain air and praying it would blow out the negative feelings.

Alone with my thoughts, I struggled to make sense of what happened last night. Why had someone broken into Gran’s and attacked her? I didn’t like Gwen, but I had a hard time believing it was her. That didn’t feel right. Even if she did murder her sister, I couldn’t think of why she would come after Gran. Instead, I tried to come up with another scenario.

“What if it was a robbery gone bad?” I said aloud.

It wouldn’t be the first time a homeowner came in unexpectedly and interrupted a robbery in progress. But what could they have been trying to steal? I walked around Gran's bedroom with that in mind.

Nothing looked out of place. Dresser drawers were shut tight, the bed was made just so, Gran’s jewelry appeared to be untouched, although some trinket that I hadn't known could be missing. I didn't have a catalog of Gran’s baubles, but nothing was thrown about or obviously tampered with. Even in the bathroom, things appeared to be just the way they always were. My makeup bag still sat on the cream and beige swirled laminate countertop, a bottle of perfume tucked beside it. My toothbrush was nestled beside Gran’s in the white porcelain holder. The white towels were as fluffy as ever, and the bubble bath retained its place on the edge of the tub. A round pedestal makeup mirror sat in the corner on the counter. It was the kind that you could flip over, and it would magnify your face. I supposed it was meant to help you put on eyeliner or tweeze your brows, but I always found it reminded me that I needed to schedule a facial and do something about minimizing those pores on my nose.

Next to the sink was a little white dish full of pink, rose-shaped soaps. The soft floral scent reminded me of Gran. They were merely decorative, as no one would dare pick up and use the delicate soaps, and even they remained undisturbed. More and more, it made me feel that whoever had broken in hadn't been searching for something but rather waiting. I thought of Gran coming home and going about her nightly routine while someone sat here and watched, waiting to attack. That thought sent my head spinning. I swayed on my feet and plopped down right then and there on the bathroom floor.

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