“I know. Should we go and see if she’s home?” I asked as we slowed on the corner of Maple Leaf and Seneca Drives, as much as every fiber of my body told me not to go over there, not to get near her backyard.

Jess and I looked at Melissa, who crossed her arms over her chest. “We need to plan first. We can’t just show up unannounced. She didn’t like that even before the . . . before.”

She was right. Liz was too anxious to ever feel comfortable with people stopping by unannounced, as she was always convinced her house wasn’t clean enough. Never mind that my house consistently would be classified as a hazardous environment on a child welfare check.

“True. I did check out some books from the library the other day. On spiritual warfare and supernatural forces.” I looked quickly to Melissa, whose face had hardened in anger. “Please. I know you don’t believe me and think there’s a different explanation, but humor me, okay?”

Melissa didn’t answer and closed her eyes slowly, shaking her head.

“I’ll run in and grab them,” Jess said quickly.

“Amy, this is ridiculous,” Melissa said as Jess ran through the front door and up to my bedroom, where I’d told her the library books were stacked.

“I know it sounds like that, but I know what I saw. Please,” I said.

She tightened her arms around her chest as Jess came jogging out of the front door, books in her arms. Laughter followed her across the lawn to where we stood.

“I’ve never heard Mark say the F word so many times,” she said.

I cocked my head to the side in confusion. “What? Why?”

“Your dog really likes tampons, huh?”

CHAPTER
12

What else can I get you ladies?” Melissa’s husband, Tony, stood in the kitchen and surveyed the scene. Within less than a minute after we’d walked in the door, he had assembled a charcuterie board, hummus, and a veggie tray.

He continued. “I have some homemade limoncello if you’d like?”

Jess laughed. “Did you just whip up a quick batch of that when your wife texted that we were coming over?”

Tony frowned. “No, but I did put coffee grounds in the French press with a stout if anyone would like an infused beer.” He gestured to the stainless-steel French press filled with a dark amber liquid.

“Who could turn that down?” I said as I gingerly lowered myself onto the blue velvet overstuffed chesterfield.

Tony’s face lit up as he went over, plucked a pint glass from the Guinness warehouse in Dublin, and poured a milky, frothy beer, as Melissa pulled out a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured herself a hefty amount.