Miss Belle gave me a long look, and it wasn’t a happy one. “Okay.”
I let Frieda know I was leaving and headed out.
* * *
Tracy sat on a bench watching her kids run around the tot lot. She held up a water bottle. “Want one? I always bring extras when we’re out and about on a hot day.”
“Sure. Thanks. How are you doing?” I asked as I sat down next to her. I felt fairly safe meeting Tracy here. If any of the literary treasure hunters showed up, I could run to the police station for help. I’d checked around before I got out of the car but hadn’t seen any. I wondered if they were still camped out by my house. I really wanted to go back home.
“I took your advice and talked to my husband’s commander’s wife. She suggested I visit the MFLC.”
“The Military Family Life Research Center?” It provided anonymous, nonmedical counseling, and no records were kept of the sessions. It fell under the umbrella of the Airman and Family Readiness Center, which offered everything from counseling to financial advice to fun things like discounted tickets to sporting events and concerts. “Did you go?”
“I did, and they’ve been wonderful. I didn’t realize how many other spouses had gone through similar experiences.”
“I’m happy for you. I went through some tough times when CJ was deployed. And add to that your busy family life.”
“And how messed up Eric’s been since he got back. Admitting that was really hard. I just kept thinking he’d be okay. That we’d be okay.”
“I hope you will be.” I didn’t want to sugarcoat what might lie ahead for them, or recite platitudes.
“I just wish more people knew about the kind of help that’s available. That you don’t have to tough it out alone.”
It made me think of Luke. “If you’re willing to share your story with a reporter, I know one.”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s my brother, Luke. He’s had his share of tough times after serving, so he’ll empathize with you.” I took a drink of my water. Even sitting in the shade wasn’t much relief from the heat.
“I’ll think about it,” Tracy said.
“He could interview other spouses too. I don’t think many people realize how hard being a military spouse can be. Even under the best circumstances there’s a lot of stress.”
Tracy’s littlest boy came running over. “I need water.”
“Is that how you ask?” she chided him gently.
“Please may I have some water?” He had deep brown eyes. His dark hair was sweaty from running. Tracy got a water bottle from the cooler. He took a long drink before handing it back and running off.
“It’s the only way I get some peace. I have to wear them out.”
I nodded. It was quiet, but it was almost dinnertime. Tennis balls ponged as they bounced on the courts on the other side of the tot lot. But all the birds seemed to be taking naps. I only heard a desultory chirp now and again.
“How’s Eric doing?” I asked.
“Lots of mood swings. He hopes the fund-raiser will work and worries it won’t.”
“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to bring King back.”
Tracy turned to me. “I would like to talk to your brother. It’s time we stop hiding behind our pride.”
“Don’t feel pressured,” I said.
“No. Maybe it will help someone else too.”
“Great. I’ll give him your number.”
* * *
As I drove back to Miss Belle’s house, Alicia Blackmore called.
“I’m so embarrassed, I almost kept this to myself. But a woman is dead, so here we are talking.”
“What’s up?” I asked.
“One of my employees knew Kay and said she desperately needed a job. Kay had some minor legal issues when she was younger. Enough that I wouldn’t have hired her. But Kay convinced my employee to give her this job.”
“How did Kay know about the job?” I asked.
“Kay said she knew Miss Belle’s former housekeeper, who’d told her about the opening. And that Miss Belle was working with us to find a replacement.”
“But you said you didn’t know about Miss Belle.”
Alicia’s lips tightened. “Apparently, my former employee was keeping a few things off the books.”
This was disappointing. I’d thought maybe it would yield a lead to who was behind all this. Either Rena or Kay had been lying.
“Kay knew enough details about the job that my employee thought she was telling the truth and just a little down on her luck.”
I still didn’t have the answers I needed. “Thank you for calling. If you learn anything else, please let me know.”
“Oh, I will.”
I called Luke to update him on the situation. He hadn’t found out anything remotely shady about Alicia Blackmore or her agency.
“I’m heading back over to Ellington,” Luke said. “Where are you?”
“I just got back to Miss Belle’s house. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Love you, Sarah.”
“I love you too.” I smiled as I hung up the phone. It was good to be able to say that to Luke instead of just thinking it, like I had all the years he’d disappeared from my life.
* * *
I let myself in through Miss Belle’s kitchen. “Miss Belle?” I called as I walked down the hall. Her study was empty, as was Sebastian’s library. “Frieda?” I listened, but no one answered. Something was wrong. Frieda’s car was outside. There was a chance they were up in the attic and couldn’t hear me, but something felt off. I walked to the main foyer and called again.
“Come on up, sweetie.”
It was Frieda. She’d never called me sweetie or any other term of endearment. It wasn’t her personality to do that. She was trying to send me a message.
“I’ll be up in a minute. I left my phone out in the car.” Frieda didn’t respond. I hustled back to the kitchen, pulled out my phone, and dialed 911. Fortunately, the dispatcher knew me and said she’d send someone. Not everyone would send a car on someone’s suspicions.
I opened the kitchen door to let myself out. Bull stood there.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Before I could scream, he clamped a hand over my mouth. His other hand landed on the back of my neck. My spinal cord seemed like a fragile twig that could be broken with very little effort.
“Be quiet,” he commanded. “Someone has two women up in the attic.”
Someone? At least the police would be here soon. He described the women. It had to be Miss Belle and Frieda.
“It’s a man who goes by Trevor Hunter.” He pulled me away from the house and toward the garage.
What would Trevor Hunter want with Frieda and Miss Belle? And Bull had said goes by, not is Trevor Hunter. My face was starting to sweat under his hand. I needed to do something.
“I’ll uncover your mouth if you promise not to scream. It looked to me like a hostage situation. We don’t want to scare him in to taking action.”
I had no idea what Bull was talking about or whether to believe him, but I nodded even as I worried that this might be some kind of trick. It was getting hard to breathe with his massive hand covering half my face.
He slowly took his hand away.
“I know Trevor,” I said. “What’s he doing in the attic with Miss Belle and Frieda?”
“Like I said, it looked like he was holding them hostage.”
I stared at Bull. “I called the police a few minutes ago because I felt like something was off,” I said. “I need to call them back.”
“I called them myself about twenty minutes ago. They’re putting together the hostage rescue team. But call them again. The last thing we need is for wires to get crossed and have someone race up with their sirens on.”
Though still uneasy, I decided if he didn’t care if I called the police he must not be a threat.
I called 911 again, watching Bull as I did. After I updated the situation, I disconnect
ed. “Why does Trevor have them?”
“I think he realized I was on to him.” Bull shook his head. “I forced his hand, so he’s making a last effort to find out if the manuscripts or the book are really still in the house.”
“If his name isn’t Trevor Hunter, who is he?”
“Trevor Berne.”
Trevor Berne? “Why have you been following me?”
“I told you I wanted to talk to you.”
“Talk, then,” I said.
“I wanted to protect you.”
“You have a really funny way of showing it. You scared me to death when you leaped on the back of my car.”
“That’s because you took off.”
This was getting us nowhere.
“Why did you think I needed protection?”
“I’ve been working undercover, trying to unearth a group of very rich people who deal in stolen rare books and manuscripts.”
“Are you a cop? FBI?” He didn’t really fit my image of either, but if he was undercover, it would explain why.
“No.” He sounded offended. “I’m with the security division of the League of Literary Treasure Hunters.”
I stared at him. I couldn’t have possibly heard that right. Worrying about Miss Belle and Frieda must have impaired me in some way. I wanted to shake my head or stick my fingers in my ears to try to clear them.
“You said the League of Literary Treasure Hunters has a security division?” I’m afraid I didn’t hide my astonishment very well.
Bull looked hurt. “We don’t broadcast it. One of our missions is to make sure the literary treasures of the world are available for all people to enjoy.”
Pellner came around the corner just then. He put his fingers to his lips and gestured for Bull and me to follow him around the corner of the garage. A SWAT team milled about.
Bull quickly explained the situation as he’d seen it.
“You two stay here,” Pellner said. “Sarah, what can you tell us about the house?”
I went over the layout of the house and attic with them.
Pellner looked at Bull. “Keep an eye on her. She had ended up in the thick of things more than once.”
I held up my hands. “I’m not going anywhere.” Contrary to what Pellner thought, I was more than happy to let the police do their job.
Seconds later, they were moving out, communicating with hand signals. When they were out of sight, I turned to Bull.
“Why didn’t you just call and tell me you were on the side of good? Or send an email.”
“I wasn’t sure who to trust.”
“You could have told the police.”
“Again, didn’t know who to trust.”
“Then why trust me enough to want to protect me? Or for that matter talk to me in person.”
Bull looked down at the ground. “Okay, maybe protect wasn’t entirely accurate. Watch might have been more appropriate.” He looked back up, one eye squinting, as if to gauge my response.
“So you thought I was in on it and wanted to keep tabs on me.”
“I thought if I talked to you in person, I could gauge your honesty. According to the reports, you found the manuscripts and were around when they disappeared. Your whole story seemed off to me.”
“How did you find me all the time? Tracking device?” I’d searched through my personal belongings looking for one, but never did find anything.
“No.”
“Then how?”
“It’s what I do for the League of Literary Treasure Hunters. I track things.”
“That’s how you found me at the hockey rink?”
Bull nodded. I frowned at him. “I don’t like to be followed. It hasn’t gone well for me in the past.” It made me wonder what was going on with Seth and the trial today.
“Part of it was learning your patterns online. You were a little more challenging than some.”
That was good to know. “How’s that?”
“You don’t ever tag the location you’re in, and you don’t tend to post where you are in real time, like a lot of people do. That will keep you safer. But you still have patterns of where you go. Almost everyone does.”
“The hockey rink isn’t part of any pattern I have.” I still wasn’t sure how much of what he was saying was true.
“Sometimes dumb luck plays a part in tracking,” Bull said. His face got a little red like he was embarrassed to admit that.
“You said there was another part besides the online stuff. Drones?” I kept one ear out to hear if there was any activity coming from the house. But so far, nothing. I pictured the SWAT team moving silently for the house.
Bull laughed. “I wish.”
“How’d you find me that day on the common?”
“I saw you were doing a fund-raising event there on Saturday. I figured you’d have to be there at some point, so I waited. Finding things isn’t all jetting from continent to continent, roaming around in tuxes, and staying in exotic locations.”
My eyes popped open a little more than normal. “But that’s part of it?”
Bull nodded.
“I must be in the wrong business. I spend all my time in dusty attics and dirty basements.” I thought for a moment. “If you didn’t track me digitally, how did you find me the day I took the Uber?”
“Math.”
“Math?” It hadn’t been my strong suit in school. Thus the English degree in college.
“I searched a simple grid pattern. I figured out how far I thought you could get on foot, used a map to show me the blocks, and drove around. I was lucky to find you before you took off with the Uber driver.”
“I could have gone to a friend’s house.”
“But you didn’t, did you?”
Even though we were standing in the shade, the air felt like I was tucked in a teapot of steaming water. I kept listening for any sounds of action, but all I heard was the whirr of late-summer bugs and a garbage truck off in the distance. My stomach did a loop the loop before it crash-landed back in position. I grabbed Bull’s massive arm to steady myself.
“You okay? Need some water?” Bull asked.
“The garbage truck. Today is garbage day, not Tuesday.”
“Right.” Bull looked at me like someone who’d just spotted a raccoon foaming at the mouth.
“Ryne told me he was on Nutley Street because it was garbage day. But that was on Tuesday.”
“Could this Ryne person just have been confused?”
“No. He said he was near the woods because he’d found some great free chairs. That he was out driving around to dumpster dive.” Ryne, with his charming, boy-next-door persona, his slightly sarcastic way. Maybe I’d heard him wrong. I wanted that to be it but knew it wasn’t. “He lied to me. It’s why he drove so slowly, not because he didn’t want to follow the police. And he wouldn’t let me out of the car to chase after the man with the case.” It had all seemed so reasonable in the moment. But not now. Ryne, who’d been so helpful in the search of Miss Belle’s house. I looked up to see if a cloud was passing over because the world seemed darker to me. “Ryne’s in on all this.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Bull kept staring down at me as if he didn’t quite know what to do. Sweat beaded around his forehead and he swiped at it with his arm. “Are you sure?”
“I knew there had to be at least three people working with Kay. The person she was supposed to meet in the woods, the man who took the overnight case with the Hemingway manuscripts from the woods, and Trevor, who chased Roger all over town.”
“How did she end up dead in this scenario of yours?”
“She must have tried to double-cross someone. To get a bigger cut or something, because why else would she hide the overnight case?”
Bull nodded.
“I think she met Ryne. Maybe he didn’t mean to kill her. He shot, and the limb came down.” I gasped. “That means he shot at me. Why would he do that? And then later act all buddy-buddy with me.”
“He
might have been trying to scare you away.”
“Well, it worked. That doesn’t explain why he circled back.”
“To get information, or maybe he was going back to search for the overnight case.”
I frowned. “Oh, he got information, all right. From me. I blabbed all the way back to Miss Belle’s house about what went on the day Kay died. But someone other than Ryne and Trevor must have the manuscripts, or they would have left town. Right?”
“It might have drawn suspicion to them if they’d left. Or maybe they wanted to find the book too.”
“Greedy jerks. But if they don’t have the manuscripts, Kay must have called someone else she trusted. I wonder who that could be.”
Bull lifted and dropped his left shoulder. I thought about what he’d said about Trevor, wondered how Ryne and Trevor ended up working together. “How do you spell Trevor’s last name?”
“B-e-r-n-e.”
“That’s Irish, isn’t it?” I asked. Bull nodded. A lot of Irish people had settled in Boston. There was an Irish mob for goodness’ sakes. But who knows? They could have connected a million different ways.
A loud bang broke the quiet. I jumped back.
“They probably tossed a stun grenade into the attic,” Bull said.
We waited quietly until Pellner finally came around the corner. “You can go in now.”
“How are they?” I asked.
“Miss Belle and Frieda are scared. A bit dazed from the grenade, but that will clear up quickly.”
“Pellner, I have something to tell you. It’s about my neighbor, Ryne O’Rourke.” I filled him in as quickly as I could. I was starting to worry about Stella’s safety.
“And you’re basing all this on hearing a garbage truck?” Pellner asked.
“I’m basing it on a lie he told me, and the information I fed him that probably helped him out.”
Pellner’s face was passive as he mulled over what I’d just told him. He finally nodded. “I’ll check it out.”
We headed toward the house, with Bull following. As I rounded the corner of the garage, two SWAT members brought Trevor out. He was cuffed and unresisting. Trevor glared at me.
“You would have done it too if you’d been in my shoes,” he said to me.
I gave Trevor a long look. “I don’t know what I’d have done in your shoes, but it wouldn’t have been any of this.” I started to walk away. “Are you working with Ryne O’Rourke?”
The Gun Also Rises Page 21