grass in the side yard. Carefully, she opened the wood-and-wire door and stepped inside. A small body rushed at her, wings flapping.
Damn.
Killer Hen.
Tessa rose onto the balls of her feet, ready to dodge the attack. “If my mother didn’t love you, I would change your name to Sunday Dinner.”
The chicken was not impressed, but she stopped a few feet short of her target. The hen turned, ruffled her feathers, and ran into the coop.
Tessa grimaced. “I smell too bad for a chicken.”
She locked up the chickens and went in the side door of the house. She’d texted her sister earlier, and Patience had put Tessa’s robe in the mudroom. Tessa left her shoes outside on the stoop, undressed, and tossed her clothes immediately into the washing machine and started it. She might have to wash everything twice to get the smell out. Wearing her robe, she carried her duty belt and badge into the house.
She’d expected to find Logan’s grandmother in her house. Instead, his sister, Cate, sat in the living room, reading a book. Cate and Tessa had been friends since childhood.
Cate said, “I sent my grandmother home.”
“Thanks. I hate to keep her out so late.”
“It’s not a problem. We all pitch in.” Cate closed her book. “I’m sorry you had to deal with another dead body today.”
“We do seem to be knee deep in them.” Tessa had investigated several murders in the past year.
Cate stood and stretched. “My grandmother left a plate of food in the fridge. I’ll leave you to your evening.”
“Thanks again, Cate.”
“We’re all here for you.” Cate let herself out. Tessa locked the front door before going into her bathroom. After a long hot shower, she dressed in an old T-shirt and cotton pajama bottoms. Barefoot, she went into the kitchen. Her sister sat at the table, eating a bowl of ice cream.
Patience pointed to the microwave. “I warmed up your dinner.”
Tessa swallowed the reprimand for not closing up the chicken coop for the night. Patience did her best.
“Thanks.” She carried the plate to the table and sat with her sister. “How was your day?”
“Not great but better than yours,” Patience said.
Tessa scooped mashed potatoes and peas onto her fork. “What wasn’t great about it?”
“Mom was talking to her aunt Bea again.”
Aunt Bea had been dead for twenty years.
Tessa ate a bite of fried chicken and chewed it thoughtfully. “I’m sorry about Mom. I know it’s hard on you. It’s hard on everyone.”
Patience sighed. “Sometimes I wish she wasn’t living here, and then I feel really bad. It’s wrong to think that, isn’t it?”
Tessa lowered her fork, her appetite waning. “There are times when I think it too. The truth is we won’t be able to keep her here forever. At some point, she’s going to be more than we can handle. We’ll have to move her into a facility.”
Patience frowned. At sixteen, she’d been forced to grow up fast. “Savannah’s grandmother is in a nursing home. It sounds really horrible.”
Tessa pushed back her plate and lowered her voice. “There are no good choices for people with dementia.”
Patience swiped a finger under her eye. “I know. But it sucks.”
“It really does,” Tessa agreed.
“I’m going to bed.” Patience rinsed her bowl and put it in the dishwasher. “Night.”
“Good night.” Tessa forced herself to finish her dinner; then she went to bed. Exhausted, she fell asleep a minute after closing her eyes.
Tessa woke in the dark, her heart racing. A digital bell dinged, signaling that one of the exterior doors had been opened. When her mother had started wandering, Logan had installed alarms on Tessa’s doors. She leaped from her bed and ran from her room.
Her mother’s bedroom door was open.
Patience stood in her own doorway, her sleepy eyes wide as dinner plates with worry.
“I’ll get her.” Tessa ran to the open front door.
Outside, the motion-activated floodlights brightened the yard like a baseball stadium. Her mother stood in the middle of the front yard. Her feet were bare, and her nightgown flapped around her thin legs. In her sixties, she looked twenty years older. As her illness had progressed, she’d stopped coloring her hair. Then she’d refused to have it cut. Now, she protested even having it brushed or washed. It swirled in a tangled mess around her pale face. Tessa did her best, but there were days when she just gave up. Her mom shoved both hands into it and let out a scream that shook Tessa to her bones.
She ran outside. “Mom!”
Her mom didn’t respond.