Hide in Plain Sight Page 5

The dog surged forward, tail waving, apparently welcoming this change in his usual routine. Did the waving tail indicate he sensed a friend?

  She edged down the two steps to the patio, lifting the flashlight to probe the shadows beyond the pond. Even as she did, the wail of sirens pierced the night.

  She must have relaxed her grip at the sound, because Barney pulled free and darted off toward the lane, letting out an excited bark. Turning, she caught a glimpse of what might be a dark figure. Her heart jolted. She swung the light toward it, but the beam didn’t reach far enough to show her anything suspicious.

  The dog barked again, a high, excited yip.

  If it had been an intruder, he’d be thoroughly scared away by the dog, the lights and the sirens. The lane led to the road—if he went that way, he might run straight into the arms of the police, although he’d hardly be so foolish.

  She swung the light back toward the shed where she’d first glimpsed the figure. Everything was still. Reassured by the wail of the police car as it turned in the drive, she crossed the patio, flashing the light around. Nothing seemed to be disturbed.

  Cal had said the outbuildings were stuffed to the rafters with furniture. She focused the flashlight on the toolshed. Nothing moved now. The shed was a dark rectangle, with a darker rectangle for the door.

  She frowned, trying to pick out details in the shaft of light. Memory provided her with an image of the door as she’d seen it earlier, and tension trailed along her nerves. There had been a padlock on the door. If it was open, someone had been breaking in.

  She glanced toward the house. Grams stood in the lighted doorway, peering out.

  “Grams, I’m going to check the toolshed. Please don’t come out.”

  “Be careful.” Grams sounded a little shaky.

  “I will. But if anyone was here, he’s long gone by now.” She called the words back over her shoulder, moving toward the shed. If something had been stolen on her second night here, she was going to feel responsible.

  A mental list began to take shape. Get better outdoor lighting, whether it enhanced the ambience or not. Ask the police to make a regular swing by the property. New locks on any building that held something of value. If what Cal had said was right, that could be any of the half-dozen or more outbuildings.

  Every building should be properly inventoried. If it hadn’t been done when her grandfather died, it should be done as soon as possible.

  Grams and Rachel hadn’t thought of that—their minds didn’t work that way, as Cal had pointed out. Hers did. He hadn’t intended a compliment, but she considered her organizational skills an asset. If her mother had been a bit more meticulous, maybe they wouldn’t have spent so much time evading the bill collectors.

  She shook that thought off, because remembering those days gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach and an inclination to check her bank balance, just to be sure she was all right.

  Hardly surprising. Other children’s bogeymen had been monsters and snakes. Hers had been collection agencies.

  “Barney! Come, Barney.” Her grandmother’s voice fluted over the dark garden.

  She glanced back the way she’d come to see the dog’s pale coat as he bounded toward Grams. Apparently Barney hadn’t been in time to take a piece out of their intruder.

  Ahead of her, the entrance to the toolshed yawned open, sending a faint shiver of fear across her skin. She hadn’t been imagining things. Someone had been here.

  A few steps took her to the shed door. With a vague thought of fingerprints, she didn’t touch it. She’d shine the light inside, that’s all. There was no way of knowing if anything was missing, but at least she could see if it looked disturbed. And get an idea of what she had to deal with.

  She leaned forward, light piercing the darkness, giving her a jumbled view of wooden pieces—straight chairs, tables, shelves, even an old icebox, jammed on top of each other…

  A quick impression of movement, a dark figure. She couldn’t react, couldn’t even scream as a hand shot out, shoving her into the toolshed.

  She barreled into the edge of a table, cracking her head on something above it. Stars showered through the darkness. She stumbled, hitting the floor just as the door banged shut.

  For an instant dizziness engulfed her, followed by a wave of sheer, uncontrollable panic. She was shut in, she was alone in the dark—

  She bolted to her feet, grabbed at the door, fumbling for a handle, a latch. “Let me out!”

  Shout, don’t cry, don’t let yourself cry or the panic will take over.

  “Help! Help me!”

  The door jerked open, and she hurtled out. She caught back a sob, her hands closing on the soft fabric of a shirt and solid muscle. She knew him by instinct before she could see him.

  “Cal—there was someone here. Did you see him?”

  He pulled her clear of the door and slammed it shut. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” They’d had this exchange before, hadn’t they? “I’m fine. Did you see him?”

  “I saw him.” He sounded grim. “Not enough to describe him, unfortunately. You?”

  She shook her head. “Just a blur of movement when he pushed me into the shed. I’m sorry.”

  He grunted, a frustrated sound. “I was following him. If you hadn’t sounded the alarm, I might have caught him.”

  Cal shook his head in response to Katherine’s repeated offer of another cup of chamomile tea. “No, thanks, I’ve had plenty.” One cup of the pale brew was surely enough to satisfy the demands of politeness.

  “I think that’s everything we need.” The young township cop sat awkwardly at the kitchen table, looking half-afraid to touch the delicate Haviland cup and saucer that sat in front of him.

  “Do you think you’ll catch the thief?” Katherine was as much at ease in her kitchen, wearing a fuzzy red bathrobe, as if she sat in the parlor.

  “That might be too much to expect, Grams.” Andrea spoke before the cop could come up with an answer. “None of us actually saw the man, and he didn’t take anything, as far as we know.”

  While the cop’s attitude toward Katherine was one of respect bordering on awe, the glance he turned on Andrea was simply admiration.

  Cal understood. Even casual and disheveled, wearing jeans and a loose blue shirt, Andrea was cool and elegant.

  And frosty, when she looked at him. Apparently his comment about her interfering with his pursuit of the intruder still rankled.

  “I’d best be on my way, ma’am.” The cop rose, settling his uniform cap over a thatch of straw-colored hair as he headed for the back door. “We’ll do the best we can to keep an eye on the place.”

  “Thank you, Officer.” Katherine was graciousness itself. “We appreciate that.”

  Once the door closed behind him, Cal shook his head. “That won’t be often enough. The township cops have too much territory to cover and too few men. What you need out there is better lighting.”

  “That’s just what I was thinking.” Once again Andrea looked faintly surprised to find herself agreeing with him. “I’ll call about it in the morning.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. If we leave on the lights we have, that should suffice.” Katherine set a cup and saucer in the sink, the china chattering against itself, betraying her emotion.

  “I can install them,” he said, knowing she was probably worrying about the cost, “if Andrea gets the fixtures.”

  Andrea nodded. “Of course.” Her gaze crossed his, and he knew they were thinking the same thing. “It’ll be my contribution to the renovations.”

  “I don’t want you to spend your money on this.” Katherine’s eyes darkened with distress. “After all, you didn’t think the inn was a good idea.”

  She probably still didn’t, but she managed a smile. “I have to take part. The sign does say The Three Sisters Inn, after all.” She put her arm around her grandmother’s waist and urged her toward the stairs. “You go up to bed, Grams. I’ll just talk to Cal about the lig
hts, and then I’ll see him out.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Katherine patted her cheek, and then came over to touch him lightly on the shoulder. “And you, Cal. I don’t know what we’d have done without you tonight.”

  “No problem,” he said easily. “Have a good night’s sleep.”

  She nodded. “Come, Barney.” The dog padded obediently after her. “That’s my good, brave dog,” she crooned, starting up the stairs. “You were so clever to chase the bad man away.”

  He waited until he heard her door close to shake his head. “I’ve never been overly impressed with Barney’s intelligence, and tonight confirmed that. He ran to me, recognizing a friend, instead of chasing the prowler.”

  Andrea frowned. “Even if he’s not the brightest dog in the world, you’d think he’d go after a stranger.”

  That thought had occurred to him, too, but he didn’t see anything to be gained by pursuing it now. If this was the same person who’d broken into several farmhouses, he could be someone local, even someone who’d been to the house before.

  She sat down across from him, apparently willing to forget her annoyance in the need to talk with someone. “Do you think he was planning to steal something tonight, or just checking things out for a future visit?”

  “I’m not sure.” He balanced the silver teaspoon on his finger. Silver, good china, antiques—there was plenty here to tempt a thief. “He may have wanted to see where the best stuff was. I would expect him to come with a truck of some sort if he planned to haul away any antiques. Pennsylvania German pieces tend to be pretty hefty, to say the least.”

  “I suppose you’re right. He did break the lock, though.”

  “Meaning he wouldn’t have done that unless he planned to take something? I’m not sure you’re right. He couldn’t know what was there unless he got in to have a look around.”

  “I guess.” She ran her hands through the silky strands of blond hair in a gesture of frustration. “I don’t even know what’s in the shed. How could they get away without a proper inventory when my grandfather died?” She sounded slightly outraged, as if lack of the right paperwork was a moral failing.

  “Maybe that’s a good job for you.” It would keep her busy, anyway.

  “I can’t imagine how long that would take. More time than I have, at any rate. But I’ll call a locksmith and have decent locks put on all those buildings.”

  A slight feeling of sympathy surprised him. Andrea was trying to do the right thing for her grandmother, even if she didn’t agree with her decisions.

  “I can put new locks on. We’ll get them when we go for the light fixtures tomorrow.”

  “We?” Her eyebrows lifted.

  “We. Unless you’re well-informed as to the best type of light fixtures and locks to use.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and he could almost see her trying to pigeonhole him. “I thought you were a carpenter, not a handyman.”

  “I know a little about a lot of useful things.”

  “In that case, I’m surprised you didn’t offer to do the lights and the locks before,” she said tartly. “Since you were so quick to warn me about the danger.”

  “I did. Numerous times.” He rose, carrying his cup and saucer to the sink. “Katherine always turned me down. She held tightly to the illusion that this place was still safe. After tonight, I don’t think that’s an issue, sadly. She’ll let us do it.”

  “You really don’t need to help.” Andrea’s chair scraped as she shoved it in, the only sound in the room other than the ticktock of the ornate Black Forest mantel clock. “I’m sure my grandmother appreciates your offer, but I can hire someone. I’ll pay—”

  He swung around, annoyed that she thought this was about money. “I said I’d do it.”

  “It’s my responsibility.” That stubborn jaw was very much in evidence. “Why should you be involved?”

  “Because I live here, too. Because your grandmother and your sister have both been kind to me.”

  Because they can accept me as I am, without needing a dossier on my past.

  Her hands moved, palms up, in a gesture of surrender. “All right, then. If you feel that way about it, I guess we’d better head out to the hardware store tomorrow.”

  “Fine.” He strode toward the door and pulled it open. “Be sure you lock this behind me.”

  “You don’t need to remind me of that.” The ghost of a smile touched her lips as she came to the door and reached for the dead bolt. “I’m a city-dweller, remember? Locking up is second nature to me.”

  She stood close in the dim light, with the half-opened door between them like a wedge. Her face looked softer in the shadows, more vulnerable.

  The way it had looked when she’d catapulted out of the shed practically into his arms. He’d felt her heart racing in the instant she’d pressed against him. She’d been panic-stricken, although she was hardly likely to admit that to him.

  “Katherine could use a few street smarts. But I can’t see her changing at this time of her life, so we’ll have to take care of it for her.”

  She nodded, but he thought there was still a question in her eyes. About him. She wasn’t like Katherine and Rachel in that regard. She didn’t accept anyone at face value.

  No, if Andrea stuck around for long, she’d be trying to find out more about him. She’d have to know, just so she could fit him into her neat classification system. And if she did, it would only raise more questions in her mind. Why would a rising young attorney in a prestigious firm throw it all over after winning the case of his career? She’d want to know the answer.

  She wouldn’t. No one here knew but him. His conscience would never let him forget the mistake he’d made in his rush to get ahead, or the child his stupidity had returned to an abusive father. It had cost his career to right that wrong, and he didn’t figure he was finished paying yet. But that wasn’t Andrea’s business.

  “Good night.” His fingers brushed hers lightly as he grasped the door to pull it shut behind him. “Pleasant dreams.”

  “So basically it was much ado about nothing.” Andrea gave Rachel her most reassuring smile the next morning. “Really. Stop looking so worried.”

  Of course Rachel couldn’t help it, tethered as she was to a wheelchair by the two heavy casts. The chair was parked by the window, but she didn’t look as if she’d been enjoying the view of the hospital’s helipad.

  “I knew we should have taken more security measures, especially after thieves broke into the Bauman farmhouse and vandals knocked over some of the gravestones in the church cemetery.” She brushed a soft brown curl behind her ear with a quick gesture, brow crinkled. “But Grams still thinks this place is as safe as it was fifty years ago, and anyway, she said—” She stopped abruptly, guilt plainly written on her face.

  “Relax, Rachel. I talked to Uncle Nick. I know about Grams’s finances.”

  Rachel blinked. “He told you?”

  “Yes. What I want to know is, why didn’t you tell me?” She forced the hurt out of her voice.

  Discomfort made her sister move restlessly in the wheelchair. “You know Grams. She’s proud. The only reason I found out was because I happened to be visiting when she hit a low point.”

  “So you came up with the idea of starting the bed-and-breakfast to help her.” How disapproving did she sound? Apparently some, because Rachel’s gaze slid away from hers.

  “It seems like a good use for the house. Nobody needs a huge place like that just to live in.”

  “Exactly.” She sat down in the vinyl padded chair that was all the room offered for a visitor, turning it to face Rachel. “So wouldn’t Grams be better off to sell? The place is way too big for her, and I don’t think she should have the worry of starting a business at this time of life.”

  “You don’t understand.” Rachel straightened, eyes flashing. “Grams loves that place. Unger House has been her home for fifty years. How can you act as if it would be easy for her to give it up?”

  That wa
s as much anger as she’d seen from Rachel since Caroline stole her boyfriend in tenth grade. She leaned forward, resting her hand on her sister’s.

  “I know it wouldn’t be easy, but doesn’t that point come to everyone? When people get older, they usually have to move into a place that’s more manageable. I’m sure Grams understands that.”

  Rachel’s expression was unusually stubborn. “She’s not ready for that. Besides, she always assumed there’d be family to take over Unger House one day. Us.”

  That was like a blow to the stomach. “She—why would she think that? It’s been years since we left.”

  “Not that long, as Grams sees it.” Rachel tilted her head, surveying Andrea with an expression that suggested she just didn’t get it. “You’re the one who had the most time here. I’d think you’d have lots of good memories.”

  “Good memories?” Something hardened in her. “What I remember is being dragged out of the house with half our belongings, Caro screaming, Grams crying, and Grandfather standing there like a statue. As if he didn’t care.”

  “Oh, honey.” Rachel patted her hand as if she was the one who needed comfort. “I know how bad that was, but can’t you think about all the good times, instead? We were happy here once.”

  She jerked her feelings back under control, shoving the images from that day behind a closed door. In her ordinary life, she never let them out. Here, she’d been tripping over them every other minute, it seemed.

  “You’ve always been the peacemaker, Rachel, trying to make everyone else feel good.” Lucky Rachel had the gift of being able to separate out the bad stuff and remember only the happy times. She didn’t, it seemed.

  “There were lots of good things,” Rachel insisted. “Remember the time the power went off in the big snowstorm, and Eli and Levi Zook brought the horse and sleigh and took us for a ride over the fields to their place? Having the power go off wasn’t a problem for them, since they don’t depend on it anyway.”

  “I remember.” She couldn’t help a smile. “Caroline tried to teach Eli and Emma’s kids how to do the hokey-pokey. I don’t think they appreciated it.”