Where Secrets Sleep Page 17

  The tramp of feet announced the arrival of the paramedics. Nick stood, stepping back to surrender his place to them. His brother moved to his side.

  “Other than this—” Mac’s gesture took in the area around Allison “—nothing out here seems to have been touched. I’ll have a look at the cash register.”

  He moved behind the sales counter, and Nick, after a glance back at Allison and the paramedics, followed him. But here, too, everything seemed secure.

  “Allison said the light came from the back room,” Nick said. “So apparently the intruder was back there.”

  “Not your average break-in artist, then.” Mac frowned, meeting his gaze. “Let’s have a look.”

  Giving a wide berth to the bookshelf, standing now at an angle where he and Foster had shoved it, they headed for the back room. Mac pushed up the light switch with the end of his flashlight.

  The room couldn’t have been much more than twelve by fourteen feet, with a desk and chair taking up most of the space. The walls were lined with shelves, loaded with a miscellany of objects from books to cleaning supplies to a coffeemaker. Every drawer of the desk had been pulled out, its contents dumped on the floor.

  “Looks as if Ralph uses this primarily as an office,” Mac said. “Maybe the perp thought he kept cash back here.”

  “Why would he, when the cash register is sitting in plain sight?” Nick stepped over a litter of what looked like invoices on the floor. “I’d say it looks more like someone was searching for something.”

  “What?” Mac’s tone was filled with frustration.

  “I don’t know, but maybe the same thing that took somebody up in the attic.”

  Mac eyed him skeptically. “You’re assuming there really was someone in the attic.”

  “The door didn’t open itself.”

  Mac grunted. Nick could read him only too easily. He wasn’t satisfied with a quick answer, but he didn’t like making things complicated, either.

  “Chief?” Foster’s face appeared around the door. “The owner’s here. He’s pretty upset. I think you better see him.”

  “Okay, Foster. You go on back to the door and make sure no one else comes in. Good job,” he added.

  “Thank you, sir.” The boy flushed to the tips of his ears as he hurried off.

  They found Ralph standing in the middle of the bookstore. His face twitched, and he was literally wringing his hands. “This is awful, awful.” He burst into speech as soon as he saw Mac. “What is this world coming to? And poor Allison. I’ll just never forgive myself.”

  “Why? It’s not your fault, is it?” Nick asked before his brother could speak.

  Ralph goggled at him. “Well, no. I mean, I don’t know why anyone would break in here. But naturally I feel bad if someone’s hurt on my property.”

  Ralph’s attitude of assuming everything was about him had never been more annoying. Nick opened his mouth to speak, but his brother elbowed him.

  “We’d like you to take a look around and tell us what’s missing, if you would. Especially anything of value.”

  “Of course, of course.” Ralph gave an uncertain glance around and then headed for the cash register.

  Nick, seeing the paramedics starting to pack up, went back to Allison.

  “What’s the verdict? Should she go to the hospital to get checked out, instead of assuming you guys know what you’re doing?”

  The EMT in charge, Mike Callahan, had been in school with Nick. He grinned, unfazed. “Not unless Ms. Standish wants to, and she says no.”

  “I don’t want to spend an hour or two in an emergency room,” Allison said, her voice firm. “A couple of aspirins and a warm bath are all I need.”

  “You’ll have some dandy bruises where the shelves hit you by tomorrow.” Mike handed her a form. “If you get a headache or start to feel dizzy, you make sure you call us, okay? And it would be best to check with your own doctor.”

  “I will. Thank you.” She smiled up at him.

  Mike propped an elbow on the back of her chair and put on an expression Nick remembered from high school. “Now, I mean that. You can call me personally anytime. My number is on the form.”

  “Yeah, she already thanked you.” Nick elbowed him out of the way. “Stop flirting and go home to your wife and baby, Callahan.”

  Mike grinned, raising one hand. “Okay, okay. I’m going. One of you walk the lady home, though. No letting her wander off on her own.”

  “No fear.” He looked down at Allison. “We’ll take care of her.”

  Before he could say anything else, Ralph tripped over to Allison, tiptoeing around the books on the floor. “Are you sure you’re all right, Allison? I just feel so terrible about this. Interrupting a vandal the way you did—you could have been badly hurt.”

  “You think it was a vandal, do you?” Nick asked before she could speak.

  Ralph raised his hands. “What else could it be? They didn’t touch the cash register, and there’s nothing else of value here. Except books, and you can’t expect people like that to care about books.”

  “It seems funny that they’d think of vandalizing your shop,” he pointed out.

  “We’ve had all those people in and out of the building getting ready for the sale,” he said. “That probably explains it.”

  Nick didn’t see that it explained anything. “The back room looks as if it’s been searched,” he said.

  Mac, coming up to them just as Nick spoke, glared at him. No doubt he was thinking that Nick should leave the investigation to the pros.

  “What about it, Ralph?” he asked. “Anything in the back room anyone might want?”

  Ralph looked even paler than he normally did. “No. Well, I do sometimes leave a locked cash box in there. If I’m not going to the bank, you see.”

  “And did you do that tonight?” Mac looked as if someone had given him a present.

  “No, no, I didn’t. I just left the cash in the register. I was so busy...” He let that trail off, maybe deciding that his busyness wasn’t relevant.

  “Still, someone could have thought you had. Comes to the same thing, in the end.”

  Ralph got paler, if that was possible. “Oh, dear, I just can’t believe it. I’ve never been robbed, not in all my years in business.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Allison began.

  “Are you finished with Allison?” Nick interrupted ruthlessly, frowning at his brother. She could be here for hours comforting Ralph, if he didn’t intervene.

  Mac seemed to get the message. “Sure. You go on home, Allison, and try to get a decent night’s sleep. I’ll touch base with you sometime tomorrow.”

  Allison started to rise, and Nick slipped his hand under her elbow.

  “I’ll take you.”

  She gave a slight smile of agreement. Holding her close, he walked with her out the door and down the hall.

  When they’d stepped out onto the front porch, he paused. “I think you ought to come home with me,” he said. “To my folks, I mean. My mother would like nothing better than to fuss over you.”

  “Suppose I don’t want any fussing,” she said, gripping the railing.

  “I could tell her to go easy on it,” he offered.

  “No, thanks. Mrs. Anderson will take care of me.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t like the idea of you being on your own tonight.”

  “I’m sure.” They went slowly down the steps and out the sidewalk. He held the gate open for her.

  “I’m worried about you, that’s all.” He couldn’t seem to keep himself from saying it.

  “I know. Thank you.” Her voice was soft. “I’ll be fine.” There was a finality to her tone that told him there was no use arguing.

  Nick nodded his agreement, but he didn’t let go of
her arm until he’d safely delivered her to a clucking and dismayed Mrs. Anderson.

  * * *

  SHE SHOULD BE seeking out Mac to learn if anything new had been discovered, Allison told herself the next day. And she should be checking on Ralph’s bookshop, to say nothing of that email from the headhunter.

  Instead, she walked straight into the quilt shop, longing for its undemanding comfort. Sarah came scurrying toward her the instant she entered.

  “Allison, I made certain sure you wouldn’t come in today. How are you?” She took Allison’s hands in a warm clasp.

  “Sore,” Allison admitted. “I keep finding new bruises every time I move. You wouldn’t think books could be so hard. But I’m in one piece.”

  “Ach, what a thing to happen to you. Do the police know anything yet? Did you get any hint of who it was?”

  “Not a glimpse,” she admitted. “Frustrating, isn’t it?”

  “I’m just wonderful glad you’re not worse hurt. Let Mac figure out who did it.” Sarah put her arm around Allison’s waist and led her toward the rocking chair by the window. “You sit and rest for a bit. You probably should have stayed in bed. Do you want something? A cup of tea, or a cinnamon roll?”

  “No, thanks.” Allison sank into the padded rocker where Sarah’s mother usually sat. “Mrs. Anderson has already stuffed me full. Everybody here seems to think food cures all ills.”

  Sarah smiled, pulling a straight chair over to sit close to her. “It’s comforting, anyway, ain’t so?”

  “Just being here in the shop is comforting.” Allison leaned her head back against the cushion. “This place is very...well, restful, I guess.” Her thoughts flickered briefly to the office in Philadelphia. There had been nothing restful about it. Di’s frenetic personality had imbued the whole place with an air of turbulent energy.

  “Have you told your family about what happened to you last night?” Sarah’s gaze clouded. “They’ll want to help.”

  “There’s nothing they can do, living so far away.” She suspected Sarah wouldn’t understand. All of her family seemed to be gathered in and around Laurel Ridge. “Anyway, I don’t want to worry them.”

  “Mamm always says worrying is a mother’s job.” Sarah looked troubled, but she didn’t press the matter. “I checked on Ralph this morning already. He’s so nervous he’s jumping at the least sound. You’d think he was the one who was hurt.”

  “That shop is his baby, I think.” She set the rocking chair moving gently. “You’d feel that way if it was the quilt shop that was broken into, wouldn’t you?”

  Sarah sent a quick, possessive glance around her. “For sure.” She shivered a little. “I guess they could have broken in here as easily.”

  Allison frowned. “Why the bookshop, I wonder? It seems such an odd choice.” She broke off at the sounds of the door opening, and Sarah quickly rose.

  “More things for the sale,” she said. “I’ve had to start putting a few of the lighter things up in the attic.” She shrugged. “The more we have, the more money we’ll make for the volunteer fire company.”

  Sarah moved away to deal with the new contributions. Maybe she ought to get up and help, Allison thought, but Sarah would probably chase her right back to the chair.

  She frowned, mind returning to the question that had been revolving in her thoughts. Why the bookshop? And was this connected to the other things that had happened? Or was it all a series of random coincidences?

  The postage-stamp quilt top that Hannah had been working on lay on top of a basket at Allison’s feet. Hannah had contrived to sew the tiny pieces together in such a way that each piece blended with or complemented the surrounding ones, something that seemed a nearly impossible task.

  Too bad that the pieces of Allison’s life didn’t fit together in the same way. Her grandmother’s death, her unexpected legacy, the breach with both her lover and her boss—everything had combined to bring her here. But here, she’d been faced with still more odd pieces to a puzzle that wouldn’t fit together.

  Julia Everly had come through with her promised invitation to lunch. If she could just ask the right questions, Julia might have a few of the puzzle pieces she needed.

  “What are you doing out already? You should be resting.”

  She hadn’t heard Nick come in, and his voice startled her. She looked up to find him frowning...a frown that didn’t quite succeed in hiding the worry in his eyes.

  “If you think it’s restful to have Mrs. Anderson forcing food on you every fifteen minutes, all I can say is that I don’t.” She looked past him. “Good morning, Mac.”

  “Morning, Allison.” Mac took the chair where Sarah had been sitting, leaving his brother standing. “I hope you don’t mind going over things again in the light of day.”

  “You sure you’re all right?” Nick’s gaze held hers.

  “Fine. I just have a colorful collection of bruises, that’s all. Hard to believe paperback books could cause so much trouble.”

  “More likely the shelves,” Mac put in. “Good thing one of those pine shelves didn’t catch you on the head.”

  “Trust me, I’m very thankful for that.” She was aware of Nick, his gaze so intent that even though a good eighteen inches separated them, they might as well be touching.

  Mac flipped open a notebook. “Any idea what time it was when you came into the building last night?”

  “It was somewhere around eight. I’d been out to Sarah’s place, and I’d stayed after supper to help with the dishes and play a game with the boys. The drizzle had stopped by time I left, I know.”

  He made a note. “You said you saw a glow of light from the bookshop. What made you investigate it yourself? Why didn’t you call us?”

  Nick prowled around, staying within a few feet of her, for all the world like Hector when he was disturbed. She forced herself to concentrate on the question.

  “I assumed it was Ralph. He’d been complaining earlier about not having any place to put a shipment of books because of all the things for the Jumble Sale, so I thought he was unpacking.”

  “You usually help him with that?” Mac’s eyebrows lifted in a question.

  “Of course she doesn’t,” Nick snapped. His hands came down on her shoulders from behind, and her breath caught at the unexpected touch. “Ralph had been carrying on about how inconvenienced he was. You know how he can be.”

  “As I told you last night, I thought it might soothe his ruffled feelings if I offered to help him,” she added.

  Mac grinned suddenly, seeming to drop his law officer’s dignity. “He’s ruffled now, all right. He’s been carrying on as if he was personally attacked.”

  She remembered what she’d said about the shop being his baby. “The store is obviously very important to him. Was anything taken?”

  Mac’s eyes darkened as he frowned, and his expression seemed to emphasize his resemblance to Nick. “Nothing, according to Ralph. The intruder didn’t even touch the register, as far as we could tell. But Ralph seemed to think they were after the cash box he sometimes left in the back room.”

  Nick’s fingers tightened on her shoulders. “I’m not sure I buy that idea. How would a casual thief know about it? If this is connected with the other things that have happened in Blackburn House—”

  “There’s no reason to think that,” Mac said. He gave Allison an apologetic smile. “My brother’s got the wind up about this whole thing.”

  “You can’t deny it’s odd,” Nick snapped. “People prowling around the building, the power going off the way it did—something’s been going on since Evelyn’s death. And given what she said to Sarah...”

  “That might not have anything to do with any of it,” Mac said.

  “But it might. I think Allison needs protection if she’s going to stay here.” His palms pressed fi
rmly on her shoulders, as if willing her to agree.

  “I don’t...” she began.

  “Nick, be reasonable,” Mac protested. “The Laurel Ridge police force consists of me, a kid barely out of his teens, a patrolman on the verge of retirement and a couple of part-timers who can’t do anything more challenging than direct traffic. How am I going to mount a guard on Allison?”

  “You’re not,” she said forcefully, before Nick could speak. “If you did offer protection, I’d decline. I don’t need it.”

  “You could have used it last night,” Nick snapped. “You can’t—”

  “I shouldn’t have come into the building after dark by myself. I won’t make that mistake again.” She kept her voice firm. She wasn’t going to let the responsibility for her own safety pass out of her control. She frowned from Nick to his brother. “If you want to do something, find out who’s behind this...this harassment.”

  Behind my grandmother’s death, she wanted to say, but there was no proof that Evelyn’s fall had been anything but an accident. A letter, a brief conversation—they didn’t amount to proof, just suspicion.

  Nick and Mac exchanged looks, and she suspected they were thinking the same thing. “All right,” Nick said. “No police protection. But that doesn’t mean we can’t keep an eye on Allison. You, me, Dad, Sarah...we all need to look out for her.”

  She didn’t want to rely on other people, but it sounded as if she wasn’t being given a choice. And she couldn’t deny the reassurance she felt with Nick’s hands on her shoulders.

  * * *

  ALLISON HAD EXPECTED that Julia Everly’s home would be one of the traditional Victorian houses that seemed so common in town. She’d been wrong. Julia lived in a well-kept ranch-style house on a quiet residential street, and she had served their chicken salad and croissants at a glass-topped table in a small sunroom at the back of the house, overlooking a pocket-size backyard.

  “Not what you expected, right?” Julia refilled Allison’s tall glass of iced tea, grinning.

  “I have to confess, I assumed your home would be more like...”