Lucy stuck a price sticker on an old lamp. She'd been helping Donna price stuff for the upcoming sale to help raise funds for one of O's victims. Lucy's eyes lingered on the door.

"Is everything okay?" Donna asked her. "You keep staring at the door."

"Sorry. Everything's fine. I'm just wondering if we were going to get more big ticket items. It's easier to make money that way."

"Well, Harry said he had a few families planning to donate some old dressers and tables," Donna answered. "I hope it doesn't rain too much today. Otherwise, no one will come out tomorrow. It'll be too muddy."

Lucy gave a sigh of relief. She really wanted to talk to ask Harry about the old desk she found the journal in. She looked out the window and grimaced.

She didn't care for rainy weather. When you had to start walking to bus stops, rain became a nuisance. "Yeah, I hope it doesn't rain too much either."

Twenty minutes later, Harry came rambling through the doorway. Donna smiled at Lucy. "The furniture is here! Hopefully he got some good items we can sell to really help that family out."

"Hi, Donna. I got a few tables and even an old dresser," Harry said as he came forward holding a pair of old table lamps. "It's starting to sprinkle so the boys are gonna hurry and unload in here."

Lucy watched as Harry and a couple of his friends carried the furniture in. She stepped closer to him and cleared her throat. "Harry, do you remember that rummage sale we had a few weeks back?"

He nodded. "Sure. Donna asked me to pick up as many donations as we could."

"Well, I'm asking you about it because I actually bought an old desk from the sale but I was wondering where it came from," Lucy explained.

"An old desk?" Harry asked scratching his head as he tried to remember.

"It's really old. Almost like an antique."

"Hmmm...if it's an antique it must've come from the old Forester Estate."

"Forester?"

Harry nodded. "We picked up a lot of old furniture from an estate sale. The owner was Camilla Forester. Such a shame. She died all alone."

"She didn't have any children?" Lucy asked.

Harry shook his head. "She had a daughter but she lives in Chicago with her husband. Camilla was all alone except for the neighbor's boy. He always visited her. She used to call him her adopted grandson. Her daughter asked for everything that wasn't sold at the estate sale to be donated to the church."

"You said she died alone but the neighbor boy was around, right?"

"As I recollect, he moved away several years ago. He stopped visiting her as much. Poor Mrs. Forester was all alone these past few years."

"So, no one else is living in Mrs. Forester's home right now?"

"Not that I know of. The house is deserted except for boxes of personal mementos that the daughter plans to pick up next time she comes down this way. At least that's what the guy running the estate sale told me. He had us clear the house out for the rummage sale. We just left the personal items behind."

Lucy nodded. "So, you think that desk came from Mrs. Forester's home?"

"It's possible. Why do you ask?"

Lucy shrugged, pretending the information wasn't important to her. "No reason. It's just a beautiful desk. I wanted to know who owned it before me."

"Well, I don't remember exactly but if I had to bet money on it, I'd say it came from the Forester Estate."

Lucy thanked him after getting the exact address of Camilla Forester's old home. When Donna was satisfied everything had been priced for the garage sale she wanted to have the following day, she offered to give Lucy a ride home.

"No, thanks. I have a few errands to run," Lucy explained as she turned down the free ride.

"Are you sure? It's no trouble. I can take you to the store or wherever you need to go," Donna offered again. "It's been raining on and off so I'd hate for you to get caught in the rain."

"No, it's okay. I have an umbrella with me. Besides, I really want to clear my mind right now. I'll see you tomorrow at the sale."

Donna looked perplexed but nodded with a frown as Lucy left on her own. Fifteen minutes later, she found herself staring at the Forester Estate.

"Rich people," Lucy muttered as she walked towards the large iron gate leading to the property. It wasn't locked. "Probably because there's nothing inside to steal anymore."

Still unsure of her decision to go to Camilla Forester's home, Lucy reminded herself she could find a clue to help her figure out who put the journal in the desk she now owned.

She passed a row of rose bushes as she made her way to the entrance of the home. Lucy knocked and received no response.

She walked around the house and saw a side entrance. She jiggled the handle to the door but it too appeared locked. Lucy's eyes caught on a small potted plastic plant. She walked over to the plant and slid it over with the side of her boot.

"Jackpot!" Underneath the potted plant was a small key. Lucy smiled at her luck. She felt something wet on the tip of her nose. Then on her cheeks. "It's sprinkling again."

Lucy quickly picked the key up and opened the door. The rusty hinges gave a loud squeak as she closed the door behind her. The house was dark. She flipped the light switch on and off but the house remained unlit.

"I guess the electricity has already been turned off," Lucy whispered, decideding to use her cellphone as a flashlight.

She stepped forward cautiously. She'd essentially broken into a home she had no business being in. She could hear the cold rain tapping against the windows. She licked her dry lips and ignored the voice of reason telling her to leave.

Lucy jumped as a loud crack of thunder struck outside. Unless she wanted to run out in the rain, she'd need to wait out the storm inside.

"What were you thinking, Lucy?" she asked herself as she made her way upstairs. The rooms were empty except for a few boxes.

She looked in one of the boxes and saw it held a photo album. Lucy began scanning the pictures. Camilla Forester had been a beautiful woman in her youth. Lucy smiled as she saw Camilla growing older. There were quite a few pictures of her and a small boy around ten or eleven. She was hugging him from the side and he was squirming around, his huge glasses too big for him. Lucy chuckled when she saw the cute photographs.

"He must be the neighbor," she said aloud as she saw another photo of two adults that must've been his parents and Camilla together. Lucy pulled the photo out of the plastic protector. It was a photo of the boy all by himself. He was marking his height in a doorway and looking back at whoever was taking the picture. His smile was missing a tooth but he looked happy. Lucy thought it was odd because all of the photographs were in black and white...even the recent pictures.

She flipped the page and saw another photograph of the same boy but he was angry. He was with his parents and another boy but he was wearing a scowl. He didn't look happy about having his picture taken. Several more photos showed the boy wearing the same angry expression.

Lucy looked back at the photo of the smiling boy which she still held in her hand, "What happened?"

She thought it was strange that he was frowning or angry in all of the remaining pictures. Lucy was hoping to see a picture of someone with the desk. She was hoping she could gain an inkling of who used that desk.

After looking through two more albums and not finding anything, Lucy decided to give up. She was about to walk back downstairs when she heard laughter. She stilled. No one was supposed to be in the home with her.

A male's laugh echoed up to her. It wasn't a joyous laugh. It was evil...almost maniacal.

The hair on her neck prickled up in fear.

She quickly hid behind a column and turned her phone off. The only light she could see by was from the occasional clap of lightening.

The sound of doors slamming,, caused her to cover her mouth in fear. It would only be a matter of time before he decided to come upstairs. The rain became louder in its pounding against the house.

Lucy tried to concentrate on the sounds of the man downstairs but the rain muffled his movement. She wanted to get out of the house as quickly as she could. She took a step away from the column when she heard him speak.

"Where are you?" He asked.

Lucy shuddered as he spoke again. "I know you're here. You left the door unlocked. Did you go upstairs?"

Lucy choked back a scream before running to the room she just exited. She softly closed the door and locked it from the inside. She remembered seeing a trellis earlier when she approached the house.

She said a quick prayer as she looked out the window through the glass. She wasn't sure if she could make it outside because of the rain. She looked back at the door.

"Where are you?" He shouted.

More doors slammed. She realized she still held the picture of the little boy from earlier. Lucy stuffed the picture in her pocket and opened the window.

The trellis was too far away but there a large tree stood nearby. She took one last look at the door before pushing herself forward. She gasped as the rain pelted against her, making it difficult to breathe. She looked back and could see the doorknob jiggling. She cursed as she pushed herself off of the window ledge and grabbed onto the branch of the tree outside. She hadn't snuck out of a window in years. She quickly tried climbing down, slipping and almost falling several times. She didn't bother to look up until she was on the ground and hidden behind the tree.

A figure stood at the window. She couldn't make out his face because the rain. She could only see his silhouette. She watched as he lifted his arms and shut the window.

Not wanting to waste any time, she sprinted across the lawn and back to the front of the house where the entrance had been. She gasped for breath as she ran to the bus stop. where there was a little shelter from the rain. Her eyes darted back to the direction of the Forester estate.

Lucy pulled out her phone and dialed the only person she knew who would probably help her without asking too many questions.

"Hey, Lucy. What are you doing? It sounds like you're outside," Dillon said.

"Dillon, can you do me a huge favor?"

"That depends," Dillon said with a laugh.

"I'm serious. I need you to please pick me up."

"Wait. Are you seriously outside in this weather? What the hell is wrong with you, Lucy?"

"It's a long story but can you please pick me up?"

"Yeah, sure. Where are you at?" Dillon took the address from her. "I'll be right there."

A few minutes later, Dillon's car window slid down in front of Lucy.

"What were you thinking? Didn't you know it was going to rain?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think I was going to get caught in it." Lucy tried to tie back her damp hair in a ponytail.

"Are you cold?" Dillon asked as he turned on the car's heater.

A weak blast of heat warmed her face but she couldn't stop shivering. She didn't want to tell Dillon it wasn't the wet clothing that was making her shiver.

"I'm fine. I just need to get home."

"My place is closer. We'll stop there. You can borrow some sweats or something. You'll probably catch a cold if you stay in those clothes by the time we get to your house."

"I'm fine, Dillon."

"Lucy, I'm not arguing with you about this. You're shaking you're so cold right now." Dillon pretended not to hear her protests as he drove to his loft. The rain had stopped as they were pulling into his parking space. "We'll get you warm in no time. I think I might even have some chicken soup."

"Seriously?"

Dillon shrugged. "It's from a can."

As they both got out of Dillon's car, another vehicle pulled up. Lucy recognized the car before its owner exited the driver's side.

She could see Dillon stiffen as Detective Holden Lahr walked around his car to stand in front of them.

"Can we help you?" Dillon asked.

"What happened to you?" Holden asked Lucy. "Singing in the rain?"

"Not funny," Lucy said as she rubbed her hands together to keep them warm.

"Listen, we're kind of in a hurry. So if you don't mind--" Dillon placed a hand on Lucy's shoulder to navigate her to his loft.

"Actually," Holden interrupted, "I do mind. I have a few questions to ask you about a Deidra Hamilton." Holden watched Dillon's expression change. "I can tell by that look on your face. You know her."

Dillon scowled. "If you want to talk, come up with us. Lucy really needs to get changed."

"Don't mind if I do." Holden smiled as he followed them.

After they entered Dillon's loft, Lucy went to change her clothing. As they waited for her to return, Holden whistled. "You sure do have a lot of artwork in here."

"I love to paint," Dillon muttered.

"I can tell. You're very talented."

Dillon gave a skeptical look. "Is that so? You know art?"

Holden nodded. "My mother was an artist."

"She was?" Dillon's leaned against his makeshift table of wooden crates pushed up against a wall.

"Yeah. She was more of a surrealist artist."

Dillon gave Holden a skeptical look. "What did you like about her pieces?"

"That her works were interesting, strange, and could have a lot of different meanings."

"That's a very beautiful statement." Dillon smiled at Holden.

"It is?" Holden asked, surprised. "I mean, thank you. I never thought I'd say anything beautiful."

"Neither did I." Dillon chuckled.

"So, Deidra Hamilton," Holden began to bring her up again.

"What about her?" Dillon asked.

"How did you know her?"

"We both attended the alcohol and substance abuse meetings together."

"That's it?"

"What else did you expect?"

"You seem so guarded with me. Any particular reason why?"

Dillon shook his head. "Is that all you wanted to ask me?"

"No, I wanted to know if you had talked with Deidra outside of the meetings. Was she dating anyone? Did she hang out with anyone?"

Dillon sighed. "I don't know. She stopped attending."

"You don't know why?" Holden asked.

"No. We didn't exactly keep up with one another outside of the meetings. She just stopped attending."

Holden stared at Dillon who didn't look away.

"Are we having a staring contest?" Lucy asked as she walked into the room wearing a pair of large sweatpants and a large sweatshirt.

"Something like that. Loser has to take you home," Holden said as he looked away from Dillon to Lucy.

"Gee, thanks. I feel so special," Lucy said sarcastically. She turned to Dillon. "Thanks for the clothes, Dillon. I promise I'll wash them and get them back to you ASAP."

"No worries. Just return them whenever," he said as he walked Lucy and Holden out.

After they left, Dillon walked into his bathroom with some towels, expecting the floor to be wet from Lucy. He noticed an unfamiliar photograph on top of the commode.

Figuring Lucy left it behind, he lifted the picture and frowned. A smiling young boy stared back at him. Dillon cursed as he crumpled the picture in his hand and threw it in the trash.