Criminal puzzles In Texas

Chapter Four

The tires crunched over gravel as Victoria pulled into the driveway of their new address. For a moment she didn’t move, just sat with her hands resting lightly on the wheel, staring through the windshield.
The house rose above the street, a three-story Victorian painted slate blue with cream trim and dark shutters. A wide porch wrapped around the front, its swing swaying lazily in the breeze. Beyond the backyard fence, a ribbon of river shimmered under the fading afternoon sun. The whole place had the kind of charm real estate listings usually oversold — except here, it was real.
Beside her, Samantha leaned forward until her palm pressed flat against the window. “No way,” she breathed. “That’s ours?”
“That’s the one,” Victoria said, careful not to let her nerves bleed into her voice.
Before the car had fully stopped, Samantha was out the door, sneakers hitting the front walk in a rush. She jogged up the steps, eyes wide, already exploring. “It looks like the kind of house that should have its own theme music,” she called back.
Victoria chuckled, sliding out more slowly. Her bleach-stained jeans caught on the seatbelt as she stood, the fabric just another reminder that she didn’t exactly match the picture-perfect setting. “Four bedrooms upstairs,” she said, trying for steady practicality as she caught up. “Two extra rooms down here. Dining room, office. That kind of thing.”
But Sam wasn’t listening. She spun on the porch, hoodie flapping, gaze fixed on the river behind the house. “We’re, like, right next to water.”
Victoria followed her line of sight. The current wound past tall grasses and smooth stones, the light glinting across its surface. For the first time since they left Phoenix, Victoria felt something ease in her chest.
“Wow, Mom,” Sam said, almost laughing. “Look at this place!”
Victoria’s lips curved into a cautious smile. Maybe — just maybe — this could work.
Inside, the front hallway glowed with natural light. Polished wood floors creaked under their steps, carrying the faint scent of lavender polish. A staircase curled upward, its banister worn smooth by years of hands before theirs. To the right, arched doorways opened into a wide living room with heavy curtains pulled back from tall windows.
Sam dumped her backpack by the wall and walked straight in, arms wide. “We could totally host people here.”
Victoria raised a brow. “Planning a party already?”
“Eventually,” Sam grinned, tugging one curtain closed and then open again just to test it.
They wandered room to room — the kitchen a sparkling white with brushed brass, the pantry bigger than Victoria’s first apartment. Sam opened every drawer like she was auditioning for a cooking show.
“This kitchen is insane,” she declared. “Can I cook?”
“You mean learn to cook.”
Sam gave her a sly smile. “Minor detail.”
Victoria leaned against the counter. “Weekly cook-off. Winner skips dishes.”
“You’re so on.”

Upstairs, the sun slanted warm across the floorboards. Each bedroom came with quirks: sloped ceilings, window seats, carved trim. Sam picked her favorite before Victoria could say a word — the corner room with the wide ledge that practically begged for art supplies and pillows.
“Perfect for sketches,” she said, running her hand along the sill. Her sketchbook was already out, pencil tapping against the edge as if inspiration might strike immediately.
Victoria let her have it without a fight.
By dusk, they’d managed to inflate mattresses, unpack a few bags, and rescue last night’s Thai takeout from its container. With furniture still on the truck, they sprawled on blankets in the living room, windows open to the cicadas and the slow rush of the river.
Sam twirled pad thai on her fork, gaze fixed on the glowing backyard. “Okay, maybe this doesn’t suck as much as I thought.”
“Highest compliment I’ve heard all week,” Victoria said, smirking.
Sam counted on her fingers. “Porch. River. Kitchen. My room. Non-creepy vibe. That’s five points in favor.”
“Guess we’re officially in the positive.”
There was a pause before Sam added, softer, “Thanks, Mom.”
Victoria looked over. “For what?”
“For… making it not terrible.”
Victoria set her food aside, reached across the blanket, and gave her daughter’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re the reason for all of this, Sam. Always.”
Sam rested her head briefly against her mother’s shoulder, hoodie brushing Victoria’s cheek. “I think I’m gonna like it here.”

Later, after the dishes were shoved into the sink and the sky deepened into indigo, Victoria stood at the front door with the keys still in her palm. Upstairs, the creak of boards and the faint shuffle of Sam unpacking filled the silence — a sound that soothed her more than the lavender polish or the realtor’s promises.
Outside, trees swayed in the evening air. The river gleamed between them, whispering possibility. She trailed her hand along the bannister as she climbed, the smooth wood grounding her with each step.
“Mom, you have to see this!” Sam’s voice carried down the hall. Victoria followed the sound to the back rooms. Sunlight flared through the upstairs windows, reflecting across the glass. For a second she saw herself doubled in the pane, alien t-shirt still on beneath the hoodie she’d pulled over it, hair loose from the long drive. A faint echo of Roswell — a reminder of how far they’d come in just a day.
Then she stepped into the room and saw what Sam was pointing at.
Through the tall window, beyond the hedges, sunlight glinted blue. The reflection rippled, not from the river this time, but from water much closer.
Victoria blinked, leaned forward, and laughed in surprise. A pool.