Page 73 of You'll Be Sorry

Possibly because the first time she’d snagged one of the oversized molasses treats, Lydia had cackled, “Like father, like daughter.” Mandy had been too busy blissfully chewing to argue.

Basically, if you wanted to get a bead on life outside of Shereford’s relentlessly Norman Rockwell main street, the Baird sisters were the ones to ask.

Now Mandy carefully navigated her way up the dirt drive, allowing plenty of time for various life-forms to scamper out of the way. The sky was growing dark and leaden above her, heavy with the promise of coming snow.

Yet another sleepless night, she thought. Given the forecasted size of the storm—twelve to eighteen inches—it would be all hands on deck for her and her officers.

She did her best not to sigh heavily. One thing at a time. Which, in this moment, was gathering community intel.

Lana was seated on the front porch, a heavy blanket wrapped around her shoulders while two cats covered her lap. Lydia, on the other hand, came walking around the house as Mandy pulled up. The woman was carrying a large, rust-covered wrench. But of course.

“Howdy, Chief,” the sisters called out in unison.

Mandy exited her SUV, zipping up her heavy coat. A small terrier mix came trotting over, paralyzed hind end supported in a harnessed cart with wheels. Mandy gave the scruffy little guy a scratch behind the ears. In return, she received two licks on the hand. Greetings established, she moved on to the sisters.

“Coffee?” Lana asked.

“Tea, hot chocolate?” Lydia expanded. “Go with the cocoa. I just finished a batch of homemade marshmallows.”

Mandy couldn’t argue with that. She followed the ladies into their house, where a woodstove was pumping out furious amounts of heat to the delight of yet more furry charges. She’d already noted thestacked rows of firewood on the front porch. Now she added to that the large cast-iron ring piled high with kindling. As police chief, she liked to know what’s what with her citizens. Looked like there was still no need to worry about the Baird sisters.

On that note, she quite happily accepted a large mug of cocoa, with a square marshmallow plopped on top, smelling of vanilla and cinnamon.

She glanced around the living area, where the blanket-covered furniture was already fully occupied. For hot chocolate this good, she could stand.

She opened with the usual niceties. The sisters answered patiently, while exchanging grins.

“We met the new neighbors,” Lana offered up.

“Theo and Raquel Collins,” Lydia added.

“Hotties! Both of them. Whoo hee, I don’t remember the new kids ever looking so good.”

“You know anything about a stray, pale-colored Lab mix?” Mandy hastily interjected.

“A stray dog?”

“We don’t get many of those.”

“Did you call the humane society?”

“Is it chipped?”

“I understand the dog isn’t chipped, hasn’t been listed as missing, and as long as we’re at it, I’m not sure it’s homeless.”

Those exchanged looks again.

“Where do you think it belongs?” Lydia asked.

“That’s my question to you.”

Swear to God, the twins truly did have some kind of telepathic connection. A pause, where Mandy could practicallyseethem communicating through thin air, then:

“We can ask around.” Lana, sounding suspiciously chipper.

Okay, Mandy was going to need another tactic. Fine, whether dealing with hardened criminals or local busybodies, pay to play remained a time-honored approach.

“You heard about the recently discovered well on the Dixon property?” she began.