“Baxter… is that…?” My voice trailed off. He stepped forward, carefully set the soft, yellow fabric bundle at my feet, and looked straight up at me. It was Lily’s sweater! The same one I hadn’t seen since the police took it. The same one she had been wearing when she died. My legs nearly gave out! I grabbed the doorframe to steady myself, breath caught in my chest.
“This… this isn’t possible,” I whispered. I reached down with shaking hands to pick it up, but Baxter grabbed it again. “Hey?! Where did you get this? Give that to me,” I said, tears burning behind my eyes. Baxter didn’t bark or move for a few seconds. He just stared at me with those intelligent, urgent eyes, then turned his head sharply toward the backyard. Then he took off.
“Baxter!” I yelled, fumbling to throw on a pair of clogs as I chased after him. I didn’t even stop to put on a jacket. He slipped through a gap in the wooden fence at the back of the yard — the one Lily used to squeeze through during summer to play in the empty lot next door. I hadn’t thought about that lot in months. We always said we’d put up a real barrier, but we never got around to it.
I followed, breathless, sweater clenched in one hand. The air smelled of wet leaves and distant rain. I hadn’t been beyond that fence in years. “Where are you taking me?” I called after him, my voice cracking. Baxter stopped every few yards, looking over his shoulder to make sure I was still coming. And I was. Something told me I had to.
It was like he wanted to show me something connected to Lily. He led me to the far side of the lot, past the weeds and rusted tools, right to the edge of the old shed. It hadn’t been used for years. The door hung crooked on one hinge. After about ten minutes, Baxter finally stopped in the doorway, motionless. Then he looked back at me with the same eyes that had stared at me through the storm door, sweater in his mouth.
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