the dagger back in its sheath and set it on the counter. “Aunt Estelle sent it. You got presents too.”
“Yay,” he says unenthusiastically and pulls out the leftover spaghetti from last night. “More crap to throw away.”
“It’s not always crap. Though speaking of crap—hang on.” I grab the jar of white powder and unscrew the lid. “Any idea what this is?”
Harrison takes the jar, looking at it with consideration for a second before taking a pinch and rubbing it between his fingers. He brings it to his mouth and I grab his hand.
“You’re seriously about to lick that?”
“I’m trying to figure out what it is, right?”
I roll my eyes. “Sometimes I wonder how you’ve lived so long. It could be rat poison for all we know.”
Harrison nods. “True enough.” He wipes his hand on his pants and goes back to the food.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” I start and put my presents from Aunt Estelle back in the box. “That she never forgets our birthday yet we’ve never even met her.”
“We’ve met her.”
“No, we haven’t.”
Harrison looks at me incredulously. “She used to babysit us.”
“No, she didn’t,” I insist.
“Yeah,” he replies slowly. “She did, back when we were still living in Michigan. Mom was finishing her residency and Dad had just started teaching at MSU.”
I stare at Harrison for a few seconds, waiting for him to laugh and tell me he’s joking. Because I have no memory of this.
“We’d stay at Nana and Pop’s for the weekend,” he goes on. “And Aunt Estelle would always drive up from Indiana. We went to her house a few times and she’d take us on nature walks through her property.”
I shake my head. “When was this?”
“The year before we moved here. We were, what, seven or eight? You really don’t remember?”
“I remember staying with Nana and Pop, but I have literally zero memory of Aunt Estelle.”
Harrison’s blue eyes narrow. “You’re not drunk, are you?”
“Unlike you, I don’t day-drink.”
He shrugs. “If I have nowhere to be, why not enjoy a drink? But really, sis…you look like her. Mom’s commented on it a few times, and Dad still jokes he’s glad the redhead gene only effects females in the Fowler family line.” I look at Harrison like he’s crazy, though I know for certain he’s not making this up. “Come here,” he says and waves his hand. I follow Harrison through the house, going downstairs into the finished basement family room.
“See?” He points to a photo that’s hanging on the stairwell. “That’s us with Nana and Aunt Estelle.”
“Holy shit,” I murmur, looking at the framed photo. It’s nestled in a gallery of other family photos, ones I’ve walked by a hundred times. How the hell did I not notice this? I lean in closer, looking at the photograph. There’s no mistaking Harrison, with his light brown hair and bright blue eyes. He’s standing with Nana—Mom’s mom—with a cheesy smile on his face.
And then there’s me, standing next to a woman with long red hair. It’s Aunt Estelle. She’s dressed in all black and has her hand on my shoulder. There’s no denying our resemblance, and at least now I know I’m not the only redhead on Mom’s side of the family.
“Wait a second,” I start, lips parting as I sharply inhale. There’s a dog lying by Aunt Estelle’s feet, and he looks shockingly familiar. A charm hangs from the dog’s collar, and while it’s too small to be sure, I’m willing to bet the charm from that dog’s collar is the same pendant that’s hanging around my neck. Slowly, I tear my eyes from the photo to look at my brother, expecting to see the same shock. “That’s Hunter.”
Chapter Two
“Okay,” Harrison says slowly, looking at me with concern now. “Not remembering something from our childhood is one thing, but thinking that dog is Hunter is another. That was nearly twenty years ago, and that dog was an adult back then.”
“But it looks like him.”
“He looks like a typical German Shepherd. And I’m pretty sure that dog was a female named Daisy.”
“How the hell do you remember all this?”
“How do you not?”
I let out a breath. “I don’t know. Did anything traumatic happen that would have blocked it from my memory?”
“Not that I know of. Unless it was…” He hesitates for a moment. “I always thought Aunt Estelle’s house was haunted.” He shrugs and we go back upstairs.
“Why are you here so early?” I ask, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the breakfast table.