I changed direction, heading to the other one. As I reversed course, I saw a figure emerge from one of the other trailers, the one with the car parked out front. He was an older man wearing overalls and I could feel his eyes on me as I walked past him. I raised a hand in greeting, trying to make it seem like I belonged. Instead of waving back, he scowled.
As I approached what I thought to be Callie’s trailer, I began to get a good feeling. There were no curtains in the windows, no toys in the yard, no flowerpots or wind chimes or engine parts, which were typical of the others. It looked like the kind of place a girl would live who had barely enough money to pay her bills and hadn’t accumulated much of anything.
Peeking over my shoulder, I noticed the man who’d stepped outside earlier was gone, probably back inside. I hoped he wasn’t watching as I sidled toward one of the windows and peered inside, taking in a small, functional, and exceedingly clean kitchen. There were no dishes or silverware in the sink or on the counters, nor any spills on the floor. In one of the corners, I saw jars of peanut butter and jelly lined up neatly next to a loaf of bread.
I scooted to another window and peered in, noting a couch futon and a pair of small mismatching tables, maybe the ones that Claude had given her. There was a lamp, too, but otherwise it was about as spartan as a place could get.
I paced around the trailer, searching for more windows, but there weren’t any. On a whim, I tried the doorknob and was surprised when it turned in my hand. When she’d left for work, Callie hadn’t locked the door. Then again, there didn’t seem to be much worth stealing.
I hesitated. It was one thing to peek in her windows; it was another thing to enter her home. I reminded myself that Callie had broken into my grandfather’s house and that I still needed answers, so I pushed open the door and entered.
It didn’t take long to go through the trailer. There was no chest of drawers; instead, she had stacked her folded clothes against a wall. In the closet, I found a few blouses and pants on hangers, and two pairs of shoes. A worn University of Georgia Bulldogs sweatshirt sat on the top shelf, but most everything else looked like thrift store finds.
There were no photographs, diaries, or journals, though on the wall in the kitchen, I noted a hanging calendar featuring picturesque Georgia sites, including Tallulah Gorge and Raven Cliff Falls, with her work schedule neatly outlined, and a few dates throughout the year marked in red marker. M’s birthday in June, R’s birthday in August, T and H’s birthday in October, and D’s birthday in December. The first initial of someone she knew, but nothing that would tell me anything more than that.
But it made me wonder…
Why, unless she was fond of or drawn to Georgia, would she have purchased this particular calendar? Or have a Georgia Bulldogs sweatshirt separated from her other clothing?
I rifled through the drawers and cupboards in the kitchen, then did the same in the bathroom. Again, the stark absence of belongings yielded few clues. I looked for a phone, hoping for an answering machine, but there was none.
I have no idea how long I was in the house, and I gazed warily through the kitchen window in the direction of where I’d spotted the old man earlier. I didn’t want him to see me leaving, but luckily he hadn’t reappeared.
I exited the front door quickly, hoping to make a clean getaway, but instantly registered the maroon car emblazoned with the word SHERIFF across the doors. I felt my stomach drop.
A moment later, it dropped even further when I spotted Natalie emerging from the car, and for a long time, all I could do was stare at her.
Chapter 16
If I was stunned to see her, she seemed equally taken aback. When she finally stepped out from behind the open car door, I was reminded of how she looked the first time I’d ever met her. As I stood before her, it seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Trevor?” she ventured, closing the door.
“Natalie,” I said, finding my voice.
“What are you doing here? I got a call about a possible burglary in progress.”
The old man. “You mean this?” I waved at Callie’s trailer. “I didn’t take anything.”
“Did you just break into someone’s house? I saw you walking out.”
“The door was unlocked.”
“And you went inside?”
“It’s good to see you, by the way.”
“This is not a social call.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I guess I should explain what I was doing.”
Over her shoulder, I spotted the older man stepping out onto the porch. Part of me wanted to thank him for being so conscientious.