“What are you doing?” A man grabbed her cell.
She slithered away before looking up. Thank God. Jerrod.
He took her hands and pulled her to standing. She struggled to find any words, to keep her chin from wobbling. “Some...” She pointed toward the store. “Someone broke in.” She hardly recognized her voice it was so much higher than usual.
“Okay, you stay here, and I’ll check this out.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gun before he stepped into the store.
“Oh, my God.” Her head whirled, her lungs hung like empty bagpipes. No air pumped. She’d pass out, if she didn’t do something. Resting her hands on her knees, she leaned over. She gasped in a short breath and then a longer one. Yes. After the third time, she slowly stood up and leaned against the lamppost. Jerrod stepped out of the store, his gun no longer in evidence.
“Didn’t find anyone, but I’ve called Sheriff Hardwick for you. He’ll be here in a few minutes. We can wait inside if we don’t touch anything.”
“I’m glad you came along when you did. What I saw froze my brain. I couldn’t figure out what to do.” She stepped into what had been her haven. Trembling shook her body.
“No problem. I was on my way to Mother’s for brunch.”
“I’m making you late. I—I’m fine now. Go on. The sheriff will be here soon, anyway.”
As if her words conjured the man, he walked into the store. Again, the bell hadn’t tinkled. Maybe that’s important. She’d tell the sheriff. A squarely built man with short gray hair, he looked to be in his late fifties. A badge and insignia prominently displayed on his jacket told of his job, and the gun on his hip told of the danger he sometimes encountered.
“Sorry to meet you under these circumstances, Ms. Barlow. People say you’re doing a good job keeping up Anne’s store.” He said in his crisp speech.
“Thank you.”
He walked into the back room. His gaze missed nothing. “Can you tell whether anything is missing?”
His words eerily reminded her of when she’d talked with Detective Fletcher after her house in Fort Worth had been broken into. Damn, not a pleasant memory, or one she’d ever wanted to repeat. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“You’ll need to be closed for at least today. I’ll get one of my deputies to come in and dust for prints. No idea whether we’ll find any. Might’ve been kids trying to make a mess.”
“They were successful.” She pressed her fingers into her temples, trying to relieve the building pain.
“Good morning.”
Jill jumped and spun around. Sally. Of course. Jill’s heart rate slowed, and she chided herself for being such a wimp when two armed men surrounded her. She stuck her head into the show room.
“Don’t turn the sign to open. We’re going to be closed today.”
“Why in the world would we do that? The town is swarming with shoppers.” Unbuttoning her coat, Sally started toward the office but stopped when she saw Jill wasn’t alone. “What’s wrong?”
“We’ve had a break-in. Probably going to get worse when they dust for fingerprints.” Jill hated the tremor in her voice.
“Well, damn, we’ve never had anything like this happen before.” Sally looked around shaking her head. “Whoa. It is a wreck.”
Sheriff Hardwick’s tech came in adding to the crowd in the room. After a brief conversation, they began moving around checking the doors and the front windows.
“Jack, be okay with you if I take the ladies to Mother’s? If we stay here, we’ll only be in the way.”
The sheriff nodded and turned his attention to the scene.
“Jill, give your cell number to Jack.”
“No. I don’t want to.”
“He can call you when he’s finished.”
“Couldn’t he call you?”
Jerrod cocked his head at her and then nodded. His lips set in a straight line. “Sure.” “Do you have a spare set of keys, Ms. Barlow? I’ll lock up when we’re finished.”
“They’re hanging on the wall near the restroom.” She crossed toward the shelf they hung under. Stopped. “They aren’t here. Sally, did you give them to Mary Ann?”
“No.” She shook her head. “She’s never wanted them. Anne or I always opened and closed. Maybe they’re under this mess.” She gestured to the clutter on the floor.
“No signs of forced entry. Suppose someone could’ve used the keys. We’ll follow up with you to see who had access to them. For now, Jerrod, go ahead and get them out of here. Give me your set, Ms. Barlow, and we’ll lock up when we’re finished. I’ll drop them off at Mrs. Phillips’.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.” How she remembered her manners in this situation, she had no clue. Must be Mom’s ingrained training. Jerrod ushered Sally and her outside.
“We can’t burst in on your mother, Jerrod.” Sticking to the formal society rules of waiting for an invitation, Jill struggled to pretend her life was normal. Yeah, like she could make the break-in go away.
“Jill, did you hear me?”
“What? Sorry, Sally. Mind must’ve wandered.”
“Understandable with what’s taken place. I said if we’re lucky, Anne will invite us to stay. We’d be very fortunate.”
Jill found herself sitting at Anne Phillips’s kitchen table drinking coffee, and eating stuffed French toast with too many calories, but worth the extra pound she’d probably see on the scale tomorrow. Sally hadn’t lied about the taste. “You never had this kind of trouble before, Anne?”
Her hostess shook her head. “In fact, we’ve had few thefts at any of the stores. An occasional hot check from a tourist, but other than that, we’ve been fortunate.”
“Most of our local folks have a great respect for history. They share a sense of stewardship. We’re taking care of the town for future generations—” The muscle in his jaw bunched and released. “Well, that sounded pretty corny.” He got up and grabbed the coffee seemingly embarrassed by his words. “Anyone want more?”
“Not corny, at all.” Jill found herself staring at the man. More to him than merely a handsome face. Warmth spread through her belly and lower. Awareness of Jerrod that way clearly made her certifiable given the circumstances. How could he arouse these feelings without his outwardly having to try?
“Well, ladies, I have an appointment at the courthouse, so I need to get out of here. I hope to help put things together at the store late this afternoon, but it depends on the judge.”
“Nice of you to offer, dear.” Anne patted her son on the shoulder. “We’ll call if we need you, but I’m going back with Jill and Sally, and I bet we can take care of whatever is needed.”
“Always make sure more than one of you is in the store. I wouldn’t expect you to have any more trouble, but no sense taking chances.” He kissed his mother on the cheek and made his way toward the front of the house.
“If we get Mary Ann in to help, can we get ready to open tomorrow, Sally?” Jill asked.
“I intend to help too, dear. Between the four of us, we’ll get it done.” Anne’s tone left little doubt they’d handle the problem.
GET IT DONE, THEY DID. Sheriff Hardwick’s staff finished their work and removed the crime scene tape at noon. The locksmith showed up around two and re-keyed the front and back doors, presenting Jill with three new keys. Jill sent Anne home at five, not wanting her to over-do. They were finished by seven that evening, and ready for the next day. Jill thanked Sally and Mary Ann then headed home. She’d let herself in the house when her cell rang. She recognized Gary Myers’ number and answered right away.
“Hey, Gary.” Exhaustion rang through her voice. Accurate for how she felt.
“Are you selling a lot of crystal? You’re in the height of the fall vacationers, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but we’ve not done too much of that today.” She dropped her coat on a chair and headed for the wine bottle she’d opened the night before.
“What’s going on?” Gary’s voice held a str
ain, she hadn’t detected when he’d first spoken.
She poured herself a large glass of Merlot. “We had a break-in last night. Between what the person did and the sheriff’s staff with their dusting for fingerprints, the office was a wreck.”
“What?”
“Hang on.” She set the wine and cell down long enough to get the gas fire going in the living room. “Nothing was taken, and the speculation is someone lifted the spare set of keys.”
Kicking off her shoes, she dropped into the closest chair, a long breath whooshing out. “Probably kids on a lark. We sometimes have young people come in, but generally, they’re with their parents, so we can’t figure how they got hold of the keys. We put everything back together, had new locks installed, and we’re ready to go tomorrow. I have great help here.” Damn she’d run on, not letting him get a word in. She sipped the calming garnet-colored liquid.
“Gary, did you hear me?”
“Yeah, hon, I did.”
“Well, you called me. Must’ve wanted to say something.”
“Jill, I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but a project had me flying back and forth to Colorado.”
“What is it, Gary?”
“Detective Riley knows you’re in Woodstock.”
Her stomach clenched at the news. Her leg muscles quivered. She’d have fallen if she hadn’t already been sitting. “How’d he find out?”
“He checked your credit cards.”
“Can anybody do that, Gary?”
“No. Just law enforcement.”
Didn’t do much to make her feel more secure. If some FBI agent in Austin ratted out her father to the consortium, they could know where she was right now. Considering the information about the break-in at her house in Fort Worth, and the ability of the consortium to locate her, the store vandalism looked a whole hell of a lot scarier. She gulped her wine.
“Riley asked me if I knew whether you had anything belonging to your father. Do you, Jill?”
She swallowed the ball of fear in her throat and found the strength to speak. “Well, I have lots of Dad’s things, but most are in storage.” She didn’t like the direction this conversation was going.
She forced her legs to work, rose, and edged around the room, checking all the windows in the living room. Locked. Of course, they were locked. A sigh edged from her tight lips.
“Did you bring anything of his with you, Jill? An item of value?”
Carrying her glass in one hand and her cell in the other, she pushed through to the kitchen. She wished Gary would say goodbye.
“What did you have in mind?” she stalled. God, she couldn’t tell him. She circled the table. “Hold on a second.” she set down the phone and her wine again, pulled up a small step stool, climbed on, and checked that the window over the sink was locked.
Gary’s words vibrated from her cell before she picked it up again. “Jill, are you all right? What’s going on?”
“Sorry. Just pouring another glass of wine. Now what did you ask?” She pulled her ponytail holder out and ran a hand through her hair, hoping to lessen the pain building in her head.
“Did your father leave you any papers or a file? Maybe a CD with information about one of the issues he spent a lot of time on?”
Damn. Her stomach twisted, and she fought the urge to throw up.
“Jill? Did you hear me?” Gary’s voice had a hard insistence she’d never heard before.
“Yeah, Gary. I heard.” She glanced frantically around her kitchen. Did her father tell Gary about the flash drive? What could she say to derail the conversation? “I’ll go through what I’ve brought up here. How will that do? Uh, listen, I hear knocking at the front door. I’ll get back with you.”
She disconnected, without waiting for a response from him and slumped into one of the chairs. Her arms wrapped around her body, and she rocked back and forth. Whimpers escaped through her clamped lips. What could she do? Should she leave Woodstock? Where would she go? Maybe she should plug the damn flash drive into her computer and see what—
No, no, better not to know exactly what it contained. Make her denial more believable.
She popped out of the chair. A jack-in-the-box had nothing on her. Damn, did she think someone was going to grab her and force information from her? She ran a hand around the back of her neck to release tension.
Not successful.
Her whole body quaked at the idea of encountering the consortium goons. Too many trashy novels in her spare time. She walked through the house checking doors and windows again. The old-time remedy of a chair under the handles of the front and back doors gave her a modicum of comfort.
After swallowing the last of the wine, she poured another glass. No more running back and forth in her brain tonight, or she’d go crazy. A soak in the tub was in order. Her muscles ached from the physical labor today at the store.
She prayed Gary wouldn’t call back.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 2
“Detective Riley, this is Gary Myers.”
“What can I do for you Mr. Myers?” Riley gripped his phone. Anticipation that Myers might have info for him rippled along his muscles.
“I got hold of Ms. Barlow last night. I tell you, I’m concerned about her.”
“Why’s that?” Riley sat forward, his pencil tapped on the desk. “Did she tell you
she had some item of her father’s?” He hoped the answer was yes, but dreaded to hear the words, for the woman’s sake.
“Jill said she didn’t, but she also told me the office in her store had been torn apart the night before.”
Riley’s pulse quickened. “What was taken? Do they have much robbery crime in the town?” He shot the words fast, impatient for a quick answer.
“If anything was removed, she couldn’t recognize it. Files had been pretty much wrecked.” Myers paused, and swallowed loudly. “Like her house here. Whoever broke-in couldn’t gain access to the computer, because it was password protected. Riley, I’m worried this is related to her father and husband’s deaths.” Strain spiked Myers’s voice and pinged across the connection.
“Suspicious certainly but could be random. Don’t know what to make of this incident. Did Ms. Barlow seem worried?”
“No, not when she first started telling me. But after I mentioned the possibility of her father leaving information with her, she changed.”
“How’s that?” Mike struggled to keep his voice even, while wanting to jump through the line and pull the information from the accountant.
“She took a long time to respond, put the phone down a couple of times. Finally, said she’d look around and then mumbled about someone being at her door and disconnected. I’d have been worried if I’d thought she was serious. It seemed to me she wanted an excuse to get off the phone.”
“Could Ms. Barlow have a boyfriend who’d be coming by at night?” Silence greeted him from the other end of the line. “Mr. Myers, did you understand the question?”
“Yeah. I understood, and I don’t know if she does, to use your term, have a boyfriend. Frankly, I’d feel better if she did, contrary to being by herself.”
“I understand her needing to get out of Fort Worth after suffering the losses she did, but how’d she decide on Woodstock? I don’t believe I ever heard.”
“She has a friend from high school who went to college in Vermont, married a native, and stayed. Visiting with her after George’s death helped Jill start the process of getting back on her feet.”
“Do you know the friend? What’s her name? Can we use her to check on Ms. Barlow?” Again, he fired questions, not giving Myers a chance to answer. Mike wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but knew he needed more info on Barlow’s current situation.
“Karen Livingston and her husband Tim live a few miles out from town on a few acres, so they’re not close geographically to Jill’s store or her house. Are you familiar with Vermont, Detective?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Well, it’s very rural, but
nothing’s far apart by our standards.”
“Have you seen the house? How secure is she?” Riley couldn’t let it go. That gut feeling he’d learned not to ignore was kicking his insides around and raised his fear level for the widow.
“I went up for the store closing. It’s an old house, quaint, but I don’t remember seeing any security system.”
“Can you convince her to put one in?” Mike asked.
“Don’t know if she can. She’s renting, but I’ll damn sure try.”
“Good. I appreciate you keeping me posted on this, Myers.”
“If I can’t convince her about the security system, what’s the next step?” Myers’ tone said he was determined to help Barlow. She was lucky in her friends. “Well?” Myers waited, but not patiently for an answer.
“I’ll touch base with the local law enforcement.”
Chapter Nine
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 11
“Any news for us, Phillips?” Mitch swallowed what felt like one of the red potatoes served in local restaurants. Cranston’s low guttural voice sent shivers across Mitch’s shoulders even though he was across the country. He’d wondered whether to call and report he hadn’t found anything or wait until he had something good to report. Obviously, he’d made the wrong decision.
“I’ve taken steps, Mr. Cranston, but don’t have the information you want. I checked out the woman’s store but didn’t find anything. I’m waiting for the right opportunity to go over her house.”
“Don’t wait for an opportunity. Make one.”
It sounded to Mitch like Cranston took long puffs from one of those cigars he favored. “I want results. You owe me. You want me to take payment in another, more physical way?”
“God, no.” Mitch’s voice telegraphed his fear. It curdled his insides. If he didn’t get off the phone quick, he’d crap his pants. “I’ll get in her house, give me some more time. Please.”
“All right. Don’t disappoint me.”
The buzzing sound was the only indication Cranston had hung up. Mitch disconnected and ran to the bathroom.
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