Morning came slow over Terrapin Creek, dragging its light through a thin, gray mist that clung to the trees like ghosts reluctant to leave. Sheriff Cole Tatum drove the back streets out to Lily Pearl’s old place with Sadie Mae riding shotgun, her coffee thermos steaming up the truck cab.

“Lord, Cole,” she said, squintin’ out the window. “You sure he’s out here? Ain’t nobody stayed in that house since the funeral.”

Cole tipped his hat back, watching the road unwind ahead. “Neighbor saw a light last night. Said it looked like somebody movin’ through the rooms. Figured I’d best check it before word gets out and half the town starts whisperin’ about hauntings again.”

Sadie Mae gave a little snort. “Oh, honey, they already are.”

The truck rolled to a stop in front of the sagging porch. The screen door hung crooked on one hinge, tapping lazy against the frame when the wind shifted. Cole stepped out first, boots sinking into the soft red dirt, and Sadie followed, arms crossed tight against the chill.

“Place feels wrong,” she murmured. “Always did.”

Cole didn’t answer. He pushed open the front door; it wasn’t locked, and the smell of damp wood and something faintly sweet, like old perfume, drifted out to meet them.

Inside, the parlor was dim but neat enough, as though someone had been careful not to disturb the dust too much. Cole’s eyes caught the faint wisp of steam curling from the kettle on the stove. He moved closer, touched the metal.

“Still warm,” he said softly.

Sadie frowned. “You think he’s still here?”

He didn’t answer right off. Just let the silence stretch. Somewhere above them, a board creaked. Slow, deliberate, like a house breathing in its sleep.

“Tommy Wayne,” he called. His voice was steady, practiced, the way men in uniform speak to the unpredictable. “You in here, son?”

No reply.

Sadie wandered toward the mantle, where a row of framed pictures stood in crooked defiance of time. She ran a finger through the dust, pausing at one: Lily Pearl, younger and proud-eyed, standing beside a boy no older than ten. “He looks just like her,” she said.

“Mm,” Cole muttered, still scanning the room. His eyes caught on the open door to the kitchen and the locket lying on the floorboards, its chain snapped clean. He stooped, lifted it, thumb brushing the faint engraving.

“She never went anywhere without this.”

Sadie Mae came to his shoulder. “Maybe he found it.”

“Or maybe,” Cole said, “it found him.”

From upstairs came another sound. A single, hollow thump.

Sadie’s eyes went wide. “Tell me that’s a raccoon.”

Cole’s hand drifted to his belt, where his revolver rested. “You can stay out here if you’d rather.”

Sadie squared her shoulders. “Not a chance. If that boy’s up there, I aim to see he’s alive. And if it ain’t him…” She hesitated, glancing toward the staircase where the morning light stopped short at the landing. “…well, then I guess we’ll both know what else walks these halls.”

*****

New Yesterdays can be found at: Books-A-Million, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon, as well as your favorite bookshops. The Audiobook is available from Libro.fm, as well as Amazon.