The Opposite of Dark by Debra Purdy Kong

Casey closed her eyes a moment. The only remedy for it was to take a painkiller and sleep.
    Casey shuffled to the bathroom, popped a couple of pills, and then slid under her comforter. The last thought she had before dozing off was that she’d have to pick up all those bears.

Six
    BY THE TIME Casey had finished another uneventful shift, grabbed some food, then talked to Dad’s Marine Drive neighbors, it was dark. No one admitted to having known Dad. Few had even seen him, and most didn’t want to discuss the night of the murder because the police had already asked enough questions.
    â€œMarine Drive’s a busy street,” an elderly neighbor said, “with cars speeding along all the time. Some passenger in a vehicle could have spotted a car in your dad’s driveway, or saw someone entering the house. I did see a couple of people walking their dogs that night. One of them is a tall lady with short red hair who lives down the street. Didn’t recognize the other young fella.”
    Casey had spoken with a woman who’d been walking her dog, but the lady had been back home by seven-thirty and hadn’t noticed anything. Casey had also tried to reach Dad’s lawyer, but the guy’s number was out of service, nor was he listed anywhere. The only good news was that her migraine had gone away and her nap had dredged up a useful memory: an easier way to enter the house than lock picks would be.
    On the chance that Lalonde’s people hadn’t finished with the crime scene, Casey put on the gloves from her first aid kit. She removed a flashlight from the glove box and then a tire iron from the trunk, should a weapon be needed.
    Standing by her car, she studied the house. Crime scene tape still stretched along the property, but there were no signs of police anywhere. Despite Lalonde’s warning to stay away, the temptation to unravel Dad’s secrets had drawn her here like an enormous magnet. She needed to walk through those rooms, needed to try to make sense out of everything she’d learned.
    She’d seen enough this morning to know that floodlights were everywhere. Motion sensors would probably light up the yard the second she stepped onto the property, which was why she’d told the neighbors, including Gil, that she’d be here tonight, so they wouldn’t worry about activity at the house.
    Casey checked to ensure her cell phone and lock picks were tucked inside her jacket pockets. Taking a deep breath, she ducked under the tape and stepped in front of a tall bush. Two narrow windows flanked each side of the double doors. As expected, no lights were on in the house. Her flashlight scanned each side of the door in search of a potted plant. At their old place, Dad had kept a spare key buried in the pot. She’d often badgered him to buy a fake plant with sand so she wouldn’t have to stick her hand in dirt to pull out the little bag with the key. Dad had refused. Said she’d learn not to forget her key this way. He’d been right. But there were no potted plants here, not even a hanging basket.
    The second Casey stepped forward, the floodlights and porch lights came on. She stopped and looked around. Okay, fine. Nothing to worry about. Glancing at the damaged alarm system by the front door, she marched across the yard and down the right side of the property, noting the fence between this and Gil’s place. She reached the only door along the exterior, the one Gil would have seen from his garden. The broken window looked boarded up tight, and more crime scene tape was fastened across the door.
    The floodlights allowed Casey to see the single lock without the flashlight. Studying the deadbolt lock, she smiled. Dad never had liked big fancy locks. Still, it took Casey some time before the tools did their job. Pinpricks of sweat dampened the back of her shirt. She recalled Lalonde’s warning and feared what she might find, but she couldn’t walk