Free Hidden in Shadow Pines by Nancy Roe Page A

morning)
    Went for a walk. Be back in an hour. A simple note. A polite gesture on my part. I left it on the dining room table for Jaime. She didn’t need to know I was on my way to Gloria Pettit’s.
    Ten minutes later, I rang Gloria’s doorbell.
    “Thanks for coming so early,” Gloria said.
    “Did you find any pictures of my grandmother?”
    “Yes. I also came across a drawing you might find particularly interesting.” Gloria led me to the kitchen table. “Your grandfather gave it to me a few weeks before his death. Told me he was going through his attic and found it. Your grandfather said he forgot he’d borrowed it from my father.”
    Gloria unrolled a letter-size piece of parchment paper, holding down the corners with two sets of salt and pepper shakers. Half the drawing was an intricate illustration of a fireplace, the other half a map of the town. A red line, highlighted in green, had been drawn from the fireplace with an arrow pointing to the Stovall residence.
    I used green index cards to signify a clue and wanted the green highlighter on the drawing to be a clue, too. Was this a breadcrumb—an indication how to get out of Shadow Pines? Perhaps I was going crazy, but then again, maybe not. Jack Deveraux would check it out—and that’s what I needed to do.
    “I don’t know what all the symbols mean. Here in the corner it reads NAL 1885 May 24. Take it to the library. Ask for Louise. She’ll make a copy for you. Don’t trust anyone else with it. Understand?” Gloria handed me a rubber band and a gallon-size plastic bag.
    “Yes, Gloria. Only Louise.” I rolled the drawing, securing it with the rubber band, and put it in my purse.
    “Here are two pictures I have of your grandmother. The other woman is my mother.”
    I looked at the first picture. It was like staring in a mirror. The year on the back—1973. My grandmother wore a black, short-sleeved dress and Gloria’s mother a white lace dress.
    The second picture was from 1976. Both women held pies and were dressed in red, white, and blue. A banner behind them read Bicentennial Bake-Off. A tear trickled down my check. I’d gotten my love of baking pies from my grandmother.
    “Are you okay, Isabella?” Gloria rested her hand on my back. “Do you need to sit?”
    I wiped away a tear. “I bake pies. I won blue ribbons in the past five county fairs.”
    “Your grandmother was a wonderful baker. She always said the pie dish made the difference.”
    I thought of Tish, who had called my pie plate my secret weapon. “Do you mind if I take these and make copies, too?”
    “Go ahead and keep them. They mean more to you than they do me.”
    I gave Gloria a big hug, then tucked the photos in my purse.
    Gloria checked her watch. “Oh, I hate to cut this short, but I’ve got to run.” She grabbed a sack lunch and her purse. “I’ll see you tonight at church.”
    “Right. The daily activity.”
    “Hang in there. It’ll all work out.” Gloria smiled.
    I walked out the front door with Gloria just in time to see a white van turn the corner.
     
    Not trusting Jaime, I put the pictures in the plastic bag with the drawing and buried them behind a group of coleus in the garden.
    I stopped dead in my tracks as soon as I turned the corner and spotted a white van parked in front of the house. For a moment, I couldn’t move, but then shook off my nervousness and walked in the front door. Jaime and Hudson were sitting on the living room couch.
    “Have a nice walk?” Hudson asked, twirling the toothpick in his mouth.
    “Yes. I enjoy morning walks.” I didn’t understand why he was here. The last time I saw Hudson he was getting into a red pickup. Did he also drive a white van? Had he seen me at Gloria’s? I glanced at Jaime, but her head was lowered.
    “I came by to check on things. Jaime here was worried about you. I decided to stick around until you came home.”
    Trying to stay calm, I said, “Jaime, didn’t you see my note?”
    Jaime sat with her