Questions raced through her mind. Was it significant that these particular pictures had been saved? Who had saved them-Antonia, May, or maybe one of her siblings? Were they stored and forgotten or were they hidden? Skye had always found it odd that Antonia had so few photos of her children growing up. Had something happened and all snapshots been banished?

Skye knelt down near the heap of slick black-and-white images. They ranged in size from tiny one-by-one squares to a couple of eight-by-ten enlargements. Only a few were in color. Skye carefully separated a photo from the group. It showed Dante as a boy in a cowboy suit holding the reins of a pony. His smile was pure joy. When had he lost that emotion?

It took Skye several hours to sort through and examine the pictures from her grandmother’s box. It was nearly eight in the morning before she finished. In one pile she put pictures of people she recognized. In another, pictures with information written on the back. The last group contained photos of people she couldn’t identify. None seemed more recent than the early 1970s.

Skye put the unknown ones in a large manila envelope, and set them aside, intending to ask her mother to go through them. The other two batches she studied closely. Again she wondered if the person who had stolen the Bible had in fact been looking for the box of photos. And if so, which of the hundreds of pictures was the thief after?

She stood and stretched. Pins and needles shot up her legs from sitting on the floor.

Skye limped into the kitchen, fed Bingo, and made herself a cup of tea. What was her next move?

She took her mug into the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as she could stand. After shedding her nightgown, she stepped into the stall.

Skye abruptly stopped lathering her hair with shampoo. A chill ran down her spine and she quickly rinsed out the suds. Someone is watching me right now. I can feel it.

Her eyes flew open and she spotted Bingo sitting on the bathmat scrutinizing her. He licked the crumbs of his breakfast off his whiskers and looked smug.

Once her breathing returned to normal, she asked, “If you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me who killed Grandma?”

Bingo blinked and lifted a paw for a wash.

After dressing, Skye gathered up the pictures and drove to her brother’s salon. She quickly told Vince what had happened and watched him lock the photos in his safe. She swore him to silence, promised a longer explanation later, and ran back to her car.

Next she headed to the police station to report the theft of the Bible. She knew she should call her parents, and probably Simon, to let them know what had happened, but there was nothing they could do except worry or tell her to stop trying to find Grandma’s killer. She didn’t need them to remind her that what she was doing was dangerous. It was her choice and her decision, nobody else’s.

CHAPTER 13

Skye and Trixie Went to Town, Riding in a Mustang

Two pieces of luck shortened her stop at the police station. Her mother wasn’t working and Wally was out on a call. Skye was able to convince Thea, the dispatcher, not to summon the chief and to allow Skye to fill out the paperwork herself. At the same time Skye wrote her mom a note and asked her to stop by Vince’s and look at the pictures to see if she recognized anyone.

It was a couple minutes before ten when Skye started down Trixie’s lane. By Scumble River standards, she was late. To most citizens ten o’clock really meant nine-forty-five. She had almost canceled her date with her friend, but realized she really needed to buy a dress for her grandmother’s funeral in two days.

The old farmhouse was in the process of being remodeled. The outside was covered with Tyvek material and huge holes in the front and sides were sealed with plastic. Skye picked her way carefully up the worn wooden steps. The porch had been stripped and a sander lay in a corner.

Before Skye could ring the bell, Trixie pulled open the unpainted door and tugged her inside. “What fun. I haven’t been shopping in ages. Are you looking for anything special? Do you want something to eat or drink before we go?”

Skye gave Trixie a quick hug. “I need an outfit for the funeral. And no thanks to the offer of refreshments. Let’s just get going before something else in my life blows up.”

“What are you talking about?” Trixie grabbed her purse from the newel post.

“I’ll tell you all about it in the car.” Skye nudged Trixie out the door.

“Okay, but I’m driving.” Trixie led the way to her Mustang convertible. “No offense, but that Buick of yours is pretty sad.”

“None taken. I’m just borrowing it till I get the insurance check.” Skye got into the passenger’s side and put on her seatbelt. As they roared toward Kankakee, she told her story, sometimes competing with the wind to be heard.

When Skye finished, Trixie said, “Wow. Do you think everything that’s been happening to you is being done by your grandma’s killer? Or maybe it’s some of those awful parents you had run-ins with?”

“Got me.” Skye shrugged. “Maybe both. I’m beginning to feel like the most hated person in Scumble River.”

“Well, then, shopping is just what you need.” Trixie flashed an impish grin. “I know maxing out my credit cards always makes me feel better.”

“I don’t know about that. I can max mine out at the gas station.”

“Want to stop at the mall first?” Trixie asked.

“Sounds good to me. Then let’s go to K’s Merchandise. I have got to get an answering machine.”

Shopping for clothing was tricky. Skye needed Plus Sizes while Trixie required Petites. Except for the large department stores, few dress shops carried that combination of merchandise. They finally decided to alternate, one place for Trixie, then one for Skye.

Their first stop was Pretty Petite. Trixie held up a short red dress for Skye’s inspection.

“It looks like a long tank top. Isn’t it a bit… revealing?” Skye asked.

“Yep, it’s for our ninth anniversary. He won’t tell me where we’re going, just says to dress up.” Trixie held the garment against her body. It came to mid-thigh. “I’ve always wanted a sexy red dress.”

Skye nodded thoughtfully. “Why don’t you try it on? Take this dress, too.” She held up another dress with a flared skirt and triple spaghetti straps that crisscrossed in the back.

Trixie’s giggle could be heard clearly in the waiting area where Skye sat on an overstuffed chair.

Coming out from behind the oatmeal-colored curtain, Trixie twirled in front of Skye. “What do you think? I know I don’t have the cleavage, but can I get away with it?”

The front of the bodice hung loose, but the rest of the dress hugged Trixie’s small body.

“It looks okay, except for the bust.” Skye tilted her head. “Would you consider one of those Wonderbras to fill out the top a little?”

“Maybe. Let me try on the other dress and see if I have the same problem.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be right here.” Skye resumed reading. She always carried a book in her purse for anytime she had to wait.

The second dress fit without having to resort to unnatural means and Trixie bought it. As they strolled the mall, window shopping and gossiping, Skye began to relax.

They were nearing an escalator when Skye spotted her cousin Hugo’s wife, Victoria. Skye knew she had to be in her early thirties but she looked much younger. Smooth blond hair fell straight to the middle of her back and blue eyes shone from a sun-kissed complexion. She wore a short navy-and-white polka-dot slip dress over a slim, toned body.

Skye was filled with instant loathing, a deep mingling of envy, contempt, and self-pity. It wasn’t a feeling she enjoyed or was proud of.

She froze. Before she could decide what to do, Victoria looked around, then abruptly turned and walked rapidly in the other direction.