My doorbell rang, causing me to screech in Megan’s ear. My mind went down a list of who could be dropping by at six o’clock as I headed towards the living room.
Since days were getting darker earlier, solicitors usually called it a day by this hour. Grandma didn’t use the doorbell; she knocked. Stone banged on the door as if he was still in law enforcement. One of my neighbors?
When I peeked through the hole, I was surprised who stood at my doorstep. I ended the call with Megan and unlocked the door.
“Hello,” I said, taking in Belinda Anderson, AKA Snake Lady.
She wore a Waya Mountain uniform, forest green pants, and light tan shirt with the logo embroidered in the corner. As the park’s herpetologist, she cared for the reptiles and amphibians, yet snakes were Belinda’s specialty. She o
