At seven-thirty that evening he walked by the store. Pausing at the window pretending to shop, he saw Barlow helping a customer. The other woman must be in the back. He’d walk over to Barlow’s house now. She wouldn’t go home for at least two hours. That’d give him enough time to search the house and get out free and clear. He ambled down the street, playing tourist, glancing in the windows, supposedly without a care in the world. “Oh, shit.” He sucked in a breath. Her friend, the Livingston woman, came out of the store ahead of him. He barely stopped himself from plowing into her. Maybe she’d not notice him, but she turned.
“Hey, Mitch. How are things?”
He had rotten luck. “Karen.”
“I’m surprised to see you in town when we still have so many tourists here. Know you can’t stand all the craziness.”
“You’re right. It’s not my favorite time of year.”
“Not to worry, though. In another week, the numbers will drop right off.”
“Yeah, I’ll be glad to see them go.” Would the woman never stop talking?
“Where you going? I’ll walk along with you. I’m killing time, waiting for Tim. He made a home visit to check on Mrs. Mortonson’s cat.”
Shit, shit, shit. What could he do now?
“I’m headed home, Karen. See you around.” He took off walking fast toward the small place he had on the opposite side of town from Barlow’s house. He didn’t handle that well, but hell, who’d have guessed Karen would show up. Damn her anyway.
The extra detour would cut into his time, but he still needed to take a shot at this. He didn’t want Cranston getting so pissed he’d send someone after him. The idea shot ice through his veins. He shivered and pulled his jacket collar higher.
He came up to Barlow’s house from across a field in the rear. One light shone from the back window, but he had no reason to think she wasn’t still at the store. He’d learned Thursday was one of the nights she closed. Inching up to the windows, he looked in, but didn’t see her purse or keys lying around. Using a pair of latex gloves, he’d picked up at the drug store, he tried the back door.
Locked, of course. He fiddled with a credit card. Such an old house maybe some muscle...a shove...sure enough the lock popped open, and he eased inside. Palming a flashlight, he started with the kitchen, pulled out drawers, and rummaged through cabinets. No telling where a person would hide a flash drive. Maybe in the canisters on the counter? Nope. Would she put it in the refrigerator? He shuffled through the vegetables, fruit, even checked the butter dish. Nothing. Damn.
The dining room didn’t have much but the china cabinet. Quick work through that and still no results.
In the living room, the curtains stood open, and he closed them. He didn’t want a passerby to see him moving around. The bookshelf looked promising but was a disappointment. He dug into the sofa between the cushions and in the stuffed chairs.
Nothing.
Halfway up the stairs, they creaked, and he nearly peed his pants. The first room he came to appeared to be Barlow’s bedroom. Glancing at his watch, he hurried through dresser drawers. Nice lingerie. He held up a thong. Hmm. Maybe he’d give the old broad a thought or two. He’d like to get a looksee at her in that scrap of silk, and yeah...a matching black lace bra.
Get busy. He dropped the bra and panties on the floor and hurried to finish the bedroom.
With time moving, he upended the bathroom. Nothing. Then he pushed open the door of another room. Thank God. A flash drive lay right next to a laptop in her study. He rustled through the two drawers of the desk. No other storage devices. This must be the one. He grabbed it and her laptop to make sure he got anything she downloaded. He’d check it out at his place. He pulled in a deep breath, the first good one in all the days since he’d talked with Cranston in Las Vegas.
Nine-twenty. He’d better get the hell out. No time to straighten. He blamed Karen Livingston. Damn. Barlow could have fun picking up the mess. Mitch slipped out the back door and cut across the field toward his house. The car would’ve been faster, but too conspicuous, so he’d walked, which he hated. He raced toward his house, his hands itching to get on the cards again. Cranston would be grateful.
On entering his house, Mitch turned on the computer and plugged in the flash drive. Not password protected. Easy access. He searched one file after another. Then he checked the laptop.
Damn. The flash drive and the computer held nothing but her personal correspondence and a couple of things about her business. He leaned back in his chair. All the energy drained from him, replaced by crushing disappointment. Shit. He’d learned his lesson last time when he didn’t call right away. Not how he’d wanted to end the day, but he wasn’t putting it off. He picked up the phone.
“You got me the information?” Cranston’s voice formed icicles along Mitch’s spine. He’d never heard anyone who sounded like evil, whatever evil might sound like, but Sid Cranston scared the crap out of him. Thank God, he wasn’t in the same room with him.
“Yeah, but not what you want to hear, Mr. Cranston. I searched Barlow’s house and found a flash drive, but it only had her personal garbage. Not what you’re looking for. Are you sure she has the one you want?”
“I’m certain the flash drive exists. Have you checked her purse?”
“No. She’s had it with her when I searched the store and house.”
Again, the sudden buzzing from the other end. The man gave Mitch the willies. Hell, how was he going to get into Barlow’s purse? He poured himself a straight shot of whiskey and then another.
Disappear. He’d like nothing better than to disappear. No one here would miss him. He’d take the chance if he weren’t positive Cranston would send his thugs after him. After a third shot, he sprawled across his bed. He’d figure something out tomorrow.
“WHEW.” JILL STRETCHED her hands over her head, leaned left and right, trying to get the kinks out. “What a day. I’m so glad you’re here, Mary Ann. I’d have never gotten to everyone tonight.”
“I’m happy to be able to help, Jill. I keep expecting the crowds to slow down. They normally do after the Columbus Day weekend. I bet you’ll see a difference when we open Monday.”
After locking the front door of the store, Jill pulled her knit hat low over her ears, thankful for the long wool coat and boots. She still needed to get something heavier. The wind had picked up, and the weather forecasters talked about the first snow.
“See you Saturday, Mary Ann. Stay warm.” Jill started down the street in one direction and her employee in the other. Walking fast with her head down, Jill focused on getting to her warm house, the fire she’d build, and the glass of wine she’d sip curled up staring at the flames.
Anne had stopped by the other day and seemed pleased with the report Jill gave the former owner on how things were going at the store. The schedule they’d set up for Sally, Mary Ann, and her was working well. Two people were always in the shop, and on Saturday and Sunday, when they had the largest crowds, their schedules overlapped so all three worked.
The good thing about staying so busy was that during the day, she kept at bay her concerns about the break-in. She wasn’t so lucky at night. The worry often interfered with her sleep. Neither was she a hundred percent successful at the task of locking out the bearded lawyer either. Jerrod managed to creep into her thoughts with an unsettling frequency.
Tomorrow she’d call the number for the security company Karen gave her to see when they’d be available to address problems at the store. Maybe she’d do what Gary suggested and talk with her real estate agent to get him to check with her landlord. She’d pay to have something installed on the house at the same time she got the store wired. With tomorrow to herself, maybe Karen could make time for lunch. Jill could catch up on how plans were coming for the Historical Society fundraiser scheduled for November. She’d looked forward to helping with the project, but she hadn’t found a moment to spare.
Things were about to change if Mary Ann was correct about t
he slow-down in the number of tourists. They’d have to wait and see.
Jill walked faster the closer she got to the house, but the cold cut like a knife through her coat right to her bones. Shivers grew and seemed to take over. Oh, for the roaring fire. Her breath glowed in the porch light. Damn. The keys fell from her nearly frozen fingers, reminding her of Jerrod and the kiss.
Her stomach tumbled. Not thinking of that.
Finally, she unlocked the door and pushed into the entryway.
The powder room door stood open. She normally pushed it closed because of space issues. Turning toward the living room, Jill jerked to a stop in the archway. Her heart catapulted into her throat. Her breath fled. Oh, my God. Not again.
Her hand silenced the scream struggling to push past her lips. She turned and ran.
When she got to Elm Street, she stopped. Where was she going? Should she have gotten her car from the shed? She looked left and right and over her shoulder. Only a few people were still on the streets. Her feet began to move without a conscious decision on her part until she stopped outside Jerrod’s house.
Her gloved hand knocked on the door. This was crazy. He might not be home. Or worse, she’d burst in on him and a woman. Before she pounded the third time, the heavy wooden door swung open.
“JILL?” SURPRISE DIDN’T keep Jerrod from drawing her into his home. He pulled her trembling body against his. “Damn, you’re freezing, woman.” He tilted her chin up to assess the situation. She was pink with the cold, and her lips quivered. He kept one arm around her shoulder, walked her into his living room, and seated her in front of the fireplace before he spoke. “What’s wrong?”
She looked at him with the saddest expression he’d ever seen.
“They broke into the house.” A tear slid from one eye. She appeared not to notice. He reached out with one finger and caught the moisture. Did she refer to some specific they?
“Don’t move. I’ll bring you a cup of tea.”
When he returned, he found her with her hands outstretched toward the fire. A large bag still hung on her shoulder. With one hand, he pulled the strap, letting the purse settle to the floor. He held out the cup. She grasped it, took a hurried sip, and wrapped both hands around the bowl. Still she hadn’t spoken. “Talk to me, Jill.”
“What?”
She appeared dazed. Was she going into shock? “Did you call the sheriff?”
“Huh uh. I ran. Ended up here. Sorry. I shouldn’t impose.”
Jerrod placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her from standing. “Don’t worry, Jill. We’ll get this straightened out. I’m glad you came.” Later, he’d mull over the warmth in his middle because she came to him. Right now, she needed him to provide a safe base from which to operate. “Let me call Jack. You can tell him your story.”
“Thank you.”
“Drink some more tea.” She took another sip.
“Let’s get you out of the coat. You’ll be more comfortable.” After helping with her coat, he placed the call on his cell, but he wasn’t certain she took in any of the conversation. Jack Hardwick had pulled a late shift and promised he’d be right over.
By the time Jerrod finished talking with the sheriff, she’d drunk all of the tea, so he took the cup and set it on a table. She leaned closer to the fire. Thank God, she was moving a little. He was afraid for a while she’d go into shock, either from the cold, the surprise she’d found at home, or both. He’d added a shot of whiskey to the cup, but she hadn’t seemed to notice.
“I’d have you tell me about what you saw, but Jack will want to know the same thing when he gets here, and you’d have to repeat yourself.”
She nodded once. The way her arms wrapped around her middle told him she was barely holding herself together.
“Can I get you some more tea?” He hoped she’d say yes, because he fully intended to splash in another jigger. At her nod, he hurried to the kitchen. When he returned, he found her standing, staring into the fire. “Drink some, Jill. It’ll help.”
She’d taken several good sips when the sound of the doorknocker made her jerk. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a brief squeeze. “That’ll be the sheriff.”
When Jerrod returned with Jack in tow, Jill stood rigidly in front of the fire. Her eyes glazed over.
“Ms. Barlow, please have a seat and tell me what the problem is.” Jack took her by the arm and gently eased her into one of the wing-backed chairs.
“After we locked the store, I said goodbye to Mary Ann and walked to the house. I was hurrying because it was so cold. My fingers had grown numb, and I dropped the keys.”
Probably more info than Jack needed, but Jerrod didn’t want to interrupt the flow of words, grateful she was able to talk, though she spoke softly, not in her usual strong voice.
“When I stepped inside, the first thing I noticed was the door to the powder room was open. I leave it closed generally, but I thought...then I turned to enter the living room...” Her hand reached up and brushed across her forehead. She rubbed a spot between her eyes.
“What did you see?” Jack encouraged her.
“Books off the shelves.” Her chin quivered, but she went on. “Sofa and chair cushions scattered on the floor. I didn’t say anything or go in any farther. I ran. I’m not certain I closed or locked the front door. God, this is a nightmare.” She set the cup on the hearth and slumped forward, her elbows on her knees, holding her head in her hands.
“I’ll get one of my deputies, and we’ll see what’s what. You stay here with Jerrod, okay? Can I have your keys, in case you did lock the door?”
She nodded, reached in the side pocket of her purse and held them out to the sheriff.
“I’ll show you out, Jack.” Jerrod headed toward the front door with Jack at his side.
“Oh, and Ms. Barlow.” The sheriff stopped and swung around to Jill. “You did a good thing, to get out right away. Someone could’ve still been on the premises. Smart move on your part.”
She nodded, and what looked like a smile touched the corners of her mouth, but it faded quickly.
“I’ll be right back.” After seeing Jack out, Jerrod returned to the living room. “Can I get you something to eat?”
“No thanks.” She held up her cup. “Did you put something in this besides tea?”
“I confess. Wasn’t trying to get you drunk, but I worried you were going into shock. Between the cold and what you’d walked into.”
“This helped.” She tipped the cup in his direction. “I have a lot to thank you for... and to apologize for. I’m sorry I barged in on you this way.” She got up and began walking around his living room, picking up family pictures and nick-knacks, putting them down without really seeing them.
“I’m glad you came. Guess we need to get Jack’s phone number programmed into your cell.” His laugh was hollow to his own ears. “Sorry, that was a lousy joke.”
“No, you’re right. Let’s do it now.” She held out her cell.
“Jill, I was teasing. You don’t have to do this.”
“Please, Jerrod. I want his number. I need his number.”
He complied with her request and returned the phone. “I also put in mine.”
“Thank you.” Her knuckles whitened from the tight grip she took on the cell.
They both jumped when his phone beeped. He read Jack’s name. “I’m getting you more tea, and I’ll be right back.” He didn’t know what to expect with the sheriff calling him so soon but suspected he’d be able to talk more easily not in Jill’s presence.
“What’d you find?”
“My God, Jerrod, the place is a wreck. Drawers pulled out, stuff strewn around. In the bedroom, her lingerie is scattered all over. I hope we don’t have us some pervert. It’ll be a while before we’re finished here. She won’t be able to get in until maybe tomorrow. I’ve called Shirley to come dust for fingerprints. Can you take her to the inn? Isn’t that where she stayed when she first arrived?”
“I’m not big on t
he idea of her being alone tonight. Mother’s would be a possibility, but I can’t put her in danger if this isn’t random and someone’s after Jill. I don’t know how I’ll convince her, but I’ll keep Jill here. Talk with you in the morning.” Jerrod disconnected and took a bottle of wine from the rack and poured two generous glasses.
She needed to get some sleep to have the energy to deal with whatever tomorrow brought. Staying awake wouldn’t be difficult for him, regardless of how much wine. He’d only have to imagine the lovely blonde sleeping in the bedroom next to his.
When he entered the living room, Jill stood with her back to the fireplace and her hands wrapped around her body. Her eyes appeared more haunted than any he’d ever seen. She needed to tell him what was going on and what she was afraid of. If ever he’d seen a scared female, she stood before him now.
“Here, Jill, I’ve brought us some wine. It’ll help warm you.”
She raised the glass, taking a generous sip. “Appreciated on a cold night.” She took another sip then sat down in the large wing back chair to the right of the fireplace, one leg over the other, swinging at a quick pace. “Was that the sheriff?”
“Yeah.” He nodded and stalled with his own drink.
“Tell me. I can deal with whatever. Not knowing is the worst.”
One gutsy woman. Nothing to remind him of his ex. Jill never would’ve walked out on her family, regardless of the circumstances.
“Jack reported the house was pretty torn up. Drawers pulled out with the contents spilled on the floor. He couldn’t tell if anything was missing. You’ll need to go through the house tomorrow to see for yourself. Often, we don’t notice losses for some time after a robbery. Stuff is so out of place, you don’t recognize when a piece is missing.”
“So, I can’t go back tonight?” Her voice sounded like a small child’s. Her eyes seemed to contract, and the two lines above her nose deepened. She struggled to make sense of what he’d said.
He longed to reach out and gently rub the frown a way, to massage her shoulders, to hold her tight. He kept his fingers wrapped securely around the wine glass, the other hand in a pocket. She didn’t need to deal with his libido, which was threatening to take control.
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