Stranger in Town - By Cheryl Bradshaw Page 0,51

small town in California.”

He raised a brow. “So, why Park City?”

“My grandfather lived there. I wanted to be close to him while he was still alive. After I moved, I fell in love, and I’ve lived there ever since.”

Cade looked out the window. “We’re here. I can’t guarantee we’re going to find the place, but we can sure try.”

We drove up one street and down another, trying to match the house up with the surroundings in the photograph. Thirty minutes in, our quest hadn’t yielded any positive results, but we kept looking anyway. Alpine wasn’t a very big town, but there was one thing it had a plenty of: trees. The rich, vibrant shades of green blanketed most of the valley. It was breathtaking.

“How many people live here—in Alpine?” I said.

“Less than a thousand, I’d imagine.” Cade pulled over to the side of the road and pointed. “This is where the three rivers meet—the Snake River, Salt River, and Greys River. They all come together and run into Palisades Reservoir.”

We sat there for a moment, taking it all in.

“I caught a good-sized mac here over the summer,” Cade said.

“A what?”

“C’mon, you serious? A mackinaw.”

“I still don’t follow.”

“It’s a lake trout,” he said. “Haven’t you done any fishin’ before?”

“Not really.”

He smiled.

“Greys River has some of the best fishin’ around,” he said. “I’ll have to take you sometime.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. Cade pulled back onto the road, and we were on our way again.

“I don’t mean to disappoint you, but we’ve driven around just about every street there is here.”

“What about that one?” I said, pointing to a shiny piece of metal reflecting off the upper side of one of the mountains.

Cade leaned forward, squinting. “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s right there,” I said. But when I looked again, it was gone. “I saw something about halfway up that mountain. I swear. It’s hidden by all those trees.”

He tugged on the inside of his pocket, pulling out his phone. “Let me try that agent one more time.” It went to voicemail. “I wasn’t aware there were any roads up there, but let’s head that way and see if we can find one. If not, we’d better head back.”

We drove a couple miles before the road forked. The flash of light I’d seen had been to the right, so Cade turned. I kept looking, hoping to catch a glimpse of what I saw before, but I didn’t. It was like the sun had shifted, and the light was no longer hitting it just right. We drove up a steep hill. It didn’t seem propitious at first, but when we reached the top, there it was: the house. I glanced at it, and then down at the picture, verifying they were one and the same. They were.

The home was modest, no more than a couple thousand square feet, which was all on one level. No cars were parked out front, but a closed, oversized garage offered a bit of encouragement. We drove up the paved driveway, parked, and got out.

“All this because we matched a fingerprint,” I said.

No one came to the door when we knocked. Cade jiggled the handle. It was unlocked. We went in.

I cupped my hand over my mouth and shouted, “Hello?”

Nothing.

“Is anyone here?” Cade said.

Still nothing.

The entryway opened to a living room that split off into two hallways. I took one side, Cade took the other. The first room I came to was a closet of some kind. It was filled with oversized metal cans of food storage, fishing poles, and neatly stacked plastic bins. Typed labels were on the front of each bin, revealing the contents of the container. Most were labeled with the names of different holidays, the majority of them being Christmas.

The holiday bins had a second row of plastic containers behind them. I assumed they’d reveal even more of the same kind of thing, but I decided to look just in case. I pulled one from the first row off the shelf. Behind it was a bin labeled: Grace. I took it down and opened it. Inside I found stacks of folded clothes, most of them in a size five. I put the lid back on and slid the next one off the shelf. The bin behind it was labeled: Makayla. Makayla’s box contained clothes in a larger size, but there was something else.

At the bottom of the box was a broken picture frame. I instantly recognized one of the