The Mommy Group (The Domestic Thriller Collection) by Ramona Light

Author:Ramona Light [Light, Ramona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-06-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 36

I didn’t tell Sylvia about the footprints. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to think about them. They were so clear when I saw them four nights ago. I could see where someone—or several people—had stood a few feet from the back of the yard, facing the house. Then the change in direction as the prints moved toward the fence before stopping as whoever it was climbed over it and disappeared into the trees.

They were so clear to me that night. And as I ran into the house, locked the slide doors, checked every room, then curled up next to Maddox and shivered, they were clearer still.

Of course, they were gone the following morning. Pretty soon, the memory of them became blurred. Like so many things that have happened since we moved to Brookwell, I’m starting to doubt whether I saw them at all. I think it’s the doubting of my own memories that is the most demoralizing thing.

Sylvia has been different since she got back from New York too. In exactly what way, I can’t pinpoint. I think she just seems more focused, which is understandable as she has been preparing for the opening of her store in Des Moines for a while. She told me everything was fine with the other two Fallen Angel Records in New York, so I have to accept that it’s just the stress of the opening of this one.

Now that we’re here, with about thirty locals milling around, drinking wine, and nibbling on cheese, Sylvia seems a little more relaxed. I wish I could say the same, but I’m more on edge than ever. Maybe it’s the fact that Wendy Wallace and Reneé Walsh are here for some reason, or perhaps it’s just because I keep doubting myself about what I saw in the backyard.

The thing is, I think I want to believe I imagined it, as the alternative is just too messed up. Was someone standing in my yard in the middle of the night wearing an old-style Halloween ghost costume? Or even more worrying: were several people there? I refuse to believe it. It’s just too ridiculous.

The footprints were mine. That’s the explanation I’ve come up with over the last few days, and it’s the one I’m sticking to. I was wandering around out there with no real direction. The problem is, when I think back, I know I hadn’t walked to the far corner where I had seen the shape until the very end. Also, I was wearing slippers, not shoes.

“Hey!”

I turn around, almost spilling red wine on a young woman with pink hair. She has it shaved at the sides the way some of the younger folk do these days, and her crystal blue eyes are mesmerizing. The faded black eye shadow she is wearing makes her eyes more piercing, and when she smiles, I can see intelligence on her face.

“Hello,” I say.

“Are you a collector?” she says, waving her hand over the rows of records on the shelves.

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