by Ellery Adams
“I hear you were hurt saving the town. Again.” He tried to cover his concern with levity, but Nora heard it all the same. “Clearly, you need a cape and a pair of latex boots. And a cool name. Super Biblio Woman? No, that’s too cheesy. I’ll keep thinking about it. Seriously, Nora, what’s your pain like right now? And don’t play tough with me. I want the truth.”
“A moderate throb,” she said. “Talking makes it worse.”
“Okay, don’t talk,” Jed was quick to say. “I’m going to meet you at the hospital. I called in a favor from a physician I know. He’s the best at what he does. Will you let him treat you?”
Nora was touched by Jed’s thoughtfulness. “There’s no need. My cheek was already scarred.”
“Which is exactly why this guy should take care of you. Scar tissue is tricky stuff. This guy owes me one and I’m making a withdrawal from the Favor Bank.”
Jed promised that he’d see her soon and hung up.
Andrews shot a glance at Nora. “I talked to Hester while the paramedics were with you. She said she’d close the bakery if you need her to be with you.”
Hearing this, Nora’s throat tightened with emotion. She shook her head to convey her feelings.
“I thought you’d say that, so I told her that you were okay and that June and Estella should keep working too. I had trouble convincing Estella.” Andrews grinned. “She didn’t think Mrs. Henderson’s root touch-up was important in light of what went down this morning, but Mrs. Henderson threatened to tell all her Red Hat Society friends to find a new stylist if Estella canceled on her.”
Nora didn’t want her friends wasting the day in a hospital waiting room. None of them could afford to miss work. “Can you tell me about Griffin?”
Andrews was happy to oblige. “Your idea of putting blood on the watch and wiping it off again so that it would show up with Luminol was brilliant. Just like you and the sheriff predicted, Kingsley switched watches. I can’t believe he had an identical watch at the ready. Just in case he had the chance to swap them.”
“Why? Is there something inside the watch?” Nora asked. She didn’t want to talk because it stretched the skin around her mouth and pulled at her wounded cheek, but there were things she had to know.
“Kingsley wouldn’t say. He didn’t say much. Just a quote from that Arabian Nights book.”
For some inexplicable reason, Nora was relieved to know that Griffin genuinely liked the collection of Arabian stories. Virtual Genie might have been constructed on a foundation of trickery and deceit, but Nora wanted those framed quotes to have meant something to someone. She hated the idea of literary quotes being used for the sole purpose of adding to Virtual Genie’s décor.
“Seeing as you’re a book person, I’m guessing you’ll want to hear the quote,” Andrews said. “‘Watch your world burn, light of my heart. Tomorrow we will find another one and burn that too.’”
Nora watched the landscape pass by. The slopes of the mountains were still painted in golden light, but the hues weren’t as rich as they’d been earlier that morning. The glow was gone, and while the canvas of autumnal colors was still lovely, it was now a much more muted palette.
The transformation reminded her of Robert Frost’s famous poem.
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
The line mentioning gold turned Nora’s thoughts to the mysterious pocket watch. Was the watch connected to the quote Griffin had spoken? Had Tamara been the light in Griffin’s heart? If so, Nora didn’t believe the feeling was returned. Tamara didn’t seem capable of love. Love required an element of selflessness, and Tamara was too caught up with the injustices she’d suffered to share her heart with another human being.
Amanda Frye, on the other hand, had fallen in love with her next-door neighbor. Abilene had told the Secret, Book, and Scone Society that Amanda and Ezekiel had started off as friends. That friendship had blossomed until, over time, it became something more.
To Amanda’s disappointment, her husband landed a job in another state and she’d been forced to abandon the happiness she’d found with Ezekiel. She made the right choice. The hard one. But she punished her husband and son for that choice. Her misery wore them both down until her husband died and her son became estranged.
As for the man she’d once loved? He ultimately betrayed her. He made it clear that a pocket watch mattered more to him than she ever could.
No wonder she became bitter, Nora thought.
“Tamara must have the keys. She’s the killer. She killed Amanda, Kenneth, and Ezekiel. She would have taken me out too.” Nora closed her eyes. “She got better at killing as she went along. Her anger grew until she could push one man over a railing and stab another in the back.”
That short speech sent spikes of pain through Nora’s cheek. Her scarred skin wasn’t like healthy skin. It was bubbly, petal-smooth, and as fragile as a seashell.
Despite the pain, she was determined to continue her narrative. She hoped that her words would speed Abilene’s release.
Andrews, mindful of Nora’s injuries, asked only pertinent questions. He didn’t interrupt. He listened attentively. By the time Nora finished, they were at the hospital.
“I don’t want to go in there thinking it’ll be hours before Abilene is set free.” Nora was mumbling now. Not only was her discomfort acute, but the worry, confusion, and shock from the events of the past few days had completely drained her. Like the book she’d discovered in Amanda’s house, she felt hollowed out.
Andrews pulled out his phone and showed Nora the screen. Hester had sent him a text saying that she was heading to the station to get Abilene. She planned to take their new friend home and remain with her the rest of the day.
“Guess she closed the Gingerbread House after all,” Andrews said. He smiled reassuringly at Nora. “Abilene will be okay. I have to see about you now. You heard the sheriff. He’ll have my head if you’re not given the best care. And how will I finish the rest of Orson Scott Card’s novels without my head?”
Nora opened her door. “Don’t make me smile. It hurts.”
But she smiled anyway. Just a little.
* * *
Jed found Nora in the emergency waiting area. He tenderly kissed her undamaged cheek and helped her with the admission forms. In the privacy of a consultation room, Jed introduced her to his friend, a tall, debonair Indian man named Dr. David Patel. The doctor told Nora that he specialized in facial reconstruction and was known for his correction of burn scars. He went on to explain that skin grafts did not produce the best results and that he preferred facial flaps, skin expanders, and laser technology.
Perhaps sensing that Nora was having a hard time following him, he put a hand on her shoulder and said, “The long and the short of it is this: You need plastic surgery. I’d like to perform that surgery. I can repair today’s damage and improve your old scars. You just need to complete another round of forms and we can set this in motion.”
Nora filled out more paperwork. She felt disembodied. Weightless. She’d felt that way since entering the hospital. She filled in the information on the form without digesting any of it. And then she was in a hospital gown and Jed was sitting next to her, holding her hand.
“I didn’t call David because you need to be fixed,” he said. “I think every bit of you is beautiful. Every single centimeter.” He rubbed her palm with the tip of his thumb. “I called him because only an artist should be allowed to touch your face. No one else but the best. No one else is good enough for you.”
Later, a nurse injected something into Nora’s IV line.
The drugs sent a silent invitation to sleep, which she willingly accepted. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so tired.
As the drugs moved through her veins, the noises in the room receded and the darkness behind Nora’s eyelids deepened to the blackness of outer space.
Seconds before she drifted off, a line written by Hermann Hesse surfaced in her mind.<
br />
Some of us think holding on is making us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.
With the warmth of Jed’s hand on hers, Nora let go.
Chapter 18
I must stand on my own two feet if I’m to get to know myself and the world outside. That’s why I can’t stay here with you any longer.
—Henrik Ibsen
Nora left the hospital with a packet of instructions from Dr. Patel and a reminder that he’d be seeing her again for follow-up procedures. When Nora pointed out that she couldn’t afford those procedures, he told her that Jed had once saved his son’s life. He’d been looking for a chance to repay him ever since.
“Now, I have that opportunity,” the surgeon had said.
After Jed dropped Nora at Caboose Cottage so she could shower and change clothes, she opened the bookstore in hopes of earning a few sales before day’s end. She wasn’t truly concerned about her business, however. Just as she wasn’t concerned about her bandaged face. Her only concern was Abilene.
Nora had called Hester and was happy to hear that Abilene had returned to work at the Gingerbread House.
“On the outside, she seems fine,” Hester had said. “There’s no way she can be fine, but I’m not sure what to do for her.”
“She might need more help than we can offer.”
To Nora’s surprise, Hester had agreed. “I think so too, which is why I asked June to speak with a therapist at the lodge.”
The sooner the better, Nora thought, gazing at the display in the front window.
Abilene had created a transparent girl made of transparent packing tape. A girl holding a transparent, bubble-wrap balloon. The only colorful things in the window were the books.
It struck Nora that Abilene had made a self-portrait in the bookstore window. The scene was beautiful and ethereal, but there was another side to it as well. Now that Nora knew Abilene’s story, she saw acute loneliness in the invisible girl surrounded by books—her only vehicles of escape.
The sleigh bells banged, startling Nora out of her reverie. She turned to find Sheriff McCabe standing in the shop’s threshold.
“I thought I’d drop by for a cup of coffee and a chat,” McCabe said. “Is this a good time?”
“I’m closing in ten minutes, so it’s perfect.”
Nora led the sheriff back to the ticket agent’s window. He ordered a Dante Alighieri and asked to defer payment until the end of his visit as he planned on buying a few books.
Having missed too many sales yesterday and today, Nora liked the sound of that. She poured decaf coffee into a heavy mug with the text LAW & ORDER on one side and DUN DUN on the back.
Sheriff McCabe barked out a laugh when he saw the back of the mug. He repeated the famous sound effect and told Nora that he’d seen every episode of the famed crime drama.
He settled into June’s chair and touched his cheek. “How is this feeling?”
“Tender,” Nora said. She’d made herself an Agatha ChrisTEA, but it was too hot to drink. She set it aside and folded her hands on her lap. “It’s easier to talk than it was yesterday.”
McCabe smiled. “Good. Let me know if it gets to be too much, all right?” Satisfied by Nora’s nod, he went on. “Tamara Beacham—I’m choosing to refer to her by her alias—has confessed to the murders of Amanda Frye, Kenneth Frye, and Ezekiel Crane. It took hours to get her to cave, but she eventually told us everything in hopes of receiving a lighter sentence.”
“Good luck with that, sister,” Nora murmured darkly.
She could relate to Tamara’s anger over having been tricked by a man she trusted. Nora had also been the victim of deceit. Her anger had been so encompassing that she’d nearly killed two people because of it. Nora had acted like a fool in the heat of the moment, but Tamara had made careful and deliberate plans to exact her revenge. She was also motivated by greed. She knew Ezekiel’s pocket watch was valuable and she would do anything to possess it.
“Griffin Kingsley has pled guilty to accessory to murder and multiple fraud charges as well,” McCabe continued. “Their gypsy life is over. No move traveling from town to town to rob unsuspecting people. Though she was clever in many ways, Ms. Beacham didn’t disguise herself well enough to keep Ezekiel Crane from finding her. She was always a swindler and she found another man to partner with. Not a good decision on Mr. Kingsley’s part.”
“What about the watch?” Nora asked the question plaguing her for days. “Did Tamara have the keys?”
McCabe’s smile grew broader. “She did. And yes, we opened it.” He placed his phone on the mirror-top coffee table and turned it, giving Nora a clear view of the screen. “I thought you might like to experience this moment for yourself.”
Realizing that she was meant to watch a video, Nora picked up her mug of tea and leaned forward.
McCabe pressed the play button and an image of the gold pocket watch with the ram’s head filled the screen. A woman’s fingers, long and slender with an elegant French manicure, appeared in the frame.
“That’s Deputy Wilcox,” McCabe explained.
Wilcox pressed the release on the top of the watch and the cover popped open. With the face revealed, the deputy fit a key into the first keyhole, which was located near the Roman numeral three. She inserted another key into the second keyhole, which was near the number nine, and put the final key into a tiny hole in the center of the second-hand dial. She then gently twisted it.
Nothing happened. At least, not that Nora could see.
The deputy must have noticed something, for she used the tips of her fingernails to carefully pry up the watch face. Underneath, embedded in the space where the mechanical elements resided, were small gemstones.
A flashlight beam fell onto the watch, and the gemstones glowed like hot embers.
“Rubies?” Nora asked, utterly entranced.
McCabe pointed at the phone. Nora saw another hand place a shallow tray on the table. Deputy Wilcox turned the pocket watch over, causing the red gemstones to spill out into the tray. She then gestured at the watch and the flashlight beam was directed back into the cavity. Nora saw letters engraved in cursive. Then words. Her mouth moved as she read the message etched inside the watch.
TO HANNAH,
OUR GREATEST TREASURE.
LOVE ALWAYS, MOM AND DAD
Nora wasn’t a sentimental person, but tears sprang to her eyes as she read the words written from parents to child. How many years had passed since the message had been engraved inside the watch? How long had it been secreted away, without Abilene’s knowledge, until the day Amanda Frye discovered it? What difference would such a message have made to a girl who believed that no one had loved her?
No one.
Not ever.
“We located the law firm that handled Joseph and Caroline Tupper’s will and arranged for Hannah’s placement with Ezekiel Crane. Joe and Caroline were both only children, so Ezekiel was their closest relative. He was Caroline’s second cousin and they weren’t close. Like many young parents, the Tuppers didn’t believe their child would end up being raised by a stranger. They simply put down Crane’s name because he was the logical choice.”
“Is that how the pocket watch ended up in Texas? The law firm gave it to Ezekiel?” Nora asked.
McCabe picked up his phone. “The firm mailed it to him. In two parts. The first, the pocket watch, was sent on Hannah’s tenth birthday, per her parent’s request. Though the package was addressed to Hannah, we assume Crane opened it. The second mailing, delivered on Hannah’s eighteenth birthday, contained the watch keys.” He paused and seemed to be considering whether he should say more.
“It gets worse?” she guessed.
No trace of a smile lingered on McCabe’s face. “For Crane, the watch was his winning lottery ticket. He’d been waiting for those keys for nearly a decade. It’s clear from the diary found in Crane’s office, and it’s clear from his entries following Hannah’s last birthday that he was planning to kill her.”
&
nbsp; Nora wasn’t at all shocked by this revelation. “Why did he wait for the keys? He was a jeweler. He could have forced the watch open and taken out the stones years earlier.”
“The Lubbock cops have read Crane’s diary in its entirety and here’s their take. When Hannah first came to live with Crane, it unbalanced him. He wasn’t comfortable around most people and barely managed to deal with the public at work. As for children? He was terrified and disgusted by them. He locked her in the basement so he could pretend she wasn’t there unless it suited him. As for the pocket watch, he writes about it all the time. He guessed that something precious was inside based on the watch’s weight coupled with the Tupper family history of African gem mining. However, he didn’t know what kind of gems were inside. He spent years fantasizing about how his life would change after he sold them. He fantasized, but he didn’t act. The two people standing in his way were Hannah and, later, Amanda Frye. Insomuch as he was capable of it, Crane cared about Mrs. Frye. Though after he learned of her impending move, his journal entries became embittered. He also began to wonder how he could be rid of Hannah.”
Nora shook her head. “It’s a wonder she survived as long as she did.”
McCabe made a noise of agreement. “Crane was too scared to kill her until she turned eighteen. Once emancipated, people wouldn’t look for her—not that they ever had before. Crane never enrolled Hannah in school and only the legal firm knew where she was being raised. Despite this, Crane lived in terror that someone would drop by to check up on Hannah. He hated the sound of the phone or the doorbell. With every passing day, he became more unstable.”
“And then, Amanda swiped the book containing the pocket watch.”
McCabe sighed. “Yes. Crane could have left Abilene in the basement and gone after the book, but like most bullies, he was a coward. After Mrs. Frye’s departure, Crane became more reclusive. He bought pieces only from people he knew and trusted. His business was barely limping along.”