"I was bracing myself not to scream," Tia confessed as she placed a hand over her heart. "I am not cut out for the detective business but I’m surprised you didn't show any fear!"
"My heart is still pounding." I looked around, noticing how unobserved we were. Many residential front yards were planted with large shade trees that had matured over the decades. Now they also provided good cover from the houses beyond. "We should close the car doors and tell Detective Logan what we found. I didn't use gloves but I'm sure I can come up with an excuse as to why he might find my fingerprints inside."
"We could say we thought someone was hurt inside?"
"Best to keep it plausible. We saw a car we didn't recognize and it was parked strangely. When we got closer, we discovered it was unlocked and I opened the door to see if the owner's information was somewhere inside. That's when I found the paper with the map of Aunt Edie's house and we decided to call Detective Logan. That's exactly what happened minus the bit about us actively searching for it." I pushed the trunk lid closed and shut the door. We headed back the way we came, hitting the street less than a minute later.
"I'm sorry we didn't discover anything. I thought there would be some useful information," said Tia.
"I think there was. So what if there wasn't a big sign with an arrow marked 'my accomplice'? At least we know how they got here."
"Maybe they took off in another car?"
"I thought that at first, but we know that two people were traveling together at some point because of all the doubling up of food and beverages. The thing that bothers me is that the other person could have fled on foot after they killed Terry."
Tia frowned and looked around. "Where would they go at that time of night?"
"Possibly the bus station to catch the first bus out of town?" I suggested. Another much worse idea occurred to me. "Or maybe they had somewhere to stay locally. Just because they traveled here with Terry doesn't mean they didn't already live here or know someone who does."
"I bet once we tell Detective Logan, he can see what’s on the cameras at those gas stations and who was inside the car," said Tia, brightening.
I reached for my cellphone to call him and hoped she was right.
Detective Logan promised to come out immediately so we both waited at the entrance to the service road for him to arrive. When he did, we directed him to the car and watched while he read the plates over his radio and waited for confirmation that it was actually Terry's car. When the confirmation came through, he slipped on his latex gloves and opened the same door I did.
"Did you touch anything in here?" he asked.
"A few things when I was looking for the owner's details," I said. "We called you as soon as we saw the map of Aunt Edie's house. It's the piece of paper tucked inside the door pocket."
"How do you know it was your house? A lot of these houses are very similar."
"Similar, yes, but not identical. I've been in enough homes over the years to know that none of them exactly matched Aunt Edie's. Trust me on this, the map is definitely of her house."
"Did you see anyone else hanging around?"
"No."
"I'm going to call a tow truck to pick up the car but you two don't have to wait around for that. Thanks for reporting it."
"You're welcome!" I replied. Tia and I took off before Detective Logan could ask anymore awkward questions. "I'm glad we could help," I told Tia. "Hopefully, if someone comes back for the car, they'll see it’s gone and know their time is ticking. That should scare them off."
"It sure would scare me off. Do you want to join us for dinner tonight? Dad’s making a pot roast."
"That sounds lovely but I'm worn out with all the running around. Besides, I'm still pretty full from lunch. Another time?"
"You got it."
We paused in front of my house and admired the inelegant path my Dad had managed to hack through the brambles. He hefted the thorny branches into a big pile, ready for disposal when Nate undertook the real work. "It actually looks a whole lot better," said Tia. "Ugly, but better, and no more snagged clothes. Call if you need me to come over," she added before waving as she walked back to her own house next door.
I headed up the path and let myself inside the quiet house. First, I made myself a coffee to warm up. The air was cooling much more rapidly now. I grabbed my notepad and book and settled onto the living room couch, curling my feet under me. After a half hour of pleasant reading, Mallory called and I spent an hour filling her in on all the things that had happened since my arrival home. She replied with a colorful mix of oohs, ahhs and oh my goshes!
"You said you came from such a sleepy, little town where nothing ever happened," she chided.
"I thought I did!"
"Apart from the creepiness of finding a dead man in your yard — a long-lost cousin no less! — it all sounds very exciting! Police detectives, hidden cars, treasure! Admit it, Vanessa, you have kept this side of your life totally hidden."
"There's no other side to my life!" I protested, laughing at Mallory's joy and excitement. "Detective Logan may well crack the case now that he has Terry's car. I'm sure he'll catch the accomplice soon too. Then, as soon as all the work is completed on the house, I'll sell it and everything will return to normal. You'll see." But as I hung up, a lump lodged in my throat. The past few days reminded me of how much I'd been missing. Not just with Tia, Danielle and Melissa, but also the final months of Aunt Edie's life. And the way Calendar residents rallied together to help out. I had so many offers of help, and so many warm welcomes from everyone that I had to admit, Calendar was a town like no other.
Finally, as I headed to bed after ensuring all the windows and doors were closed, a task that would be much less arduous once I the alarm system was installed, I felt more positive. Now we knew the dead man was Terry Swanson, so one mystery was solved, although it was a little bit sad to discover the dead man was my no-good cousin. Tia was right about trying freelance work; if only to make sure my résumé had no long gaps in time, and the growing possibility of selling the house to Nate, who loved it as much as I did, relieved me just a tad.
What if Nate asked Danielle to marry him so they could raise a huge family here? I tried to picture it but I couldn't. It took a long time of staring up at the ceiling in the turret bedroom for me to admit why that picture seemed so impossible to see.
Then I realized the reason why. It was because the only person I could think of beside Nate was me.
Chapter Fourteen
The sound of something heavy falling dragged me out of sleep. I pushed back the covers and sat up, waiting to hear it again. The street outside was quiet and darkness filled the room. I blinked sleep from my eyes and wondered if I imagined it. Perhaps it was my subconscious playing tricks on me? I'd gone to bed thinking about Terry and his accomplice so it was more than likely I would attribute any noise to a burglar.
No. There it was again! A soft knock, like a door being closed, and then a rattle. I wouldn't have heard it in the daytime, not with the radio on, or cars passing outside, but in the still of night, the unusual sound reached me. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and hesitated. I was alone in the house and I didn't know who was out there. Yesterday's bravado at finding the car was not like this. Tia was beside me and it was still light outside. I checked the clock. Three a.m. and I was alone.
I listened hard for a few minutes but couldn't hear anything else. I debated whether or not to call the police but what if they came out and found nothing? They would think I was just scared of being alone. What if I called them out too often and the one time I really needed them they refused to respond because they thought I was like the boy who cried wolf?
Reaching for my phone, I hesitated again. The police were simply out of the question. I couldn't call my parents either because they would never let me forget it. They would probably insist I either move out right away or let them move in. So I dialed the one friend I knew whom I could rely on in any emergency.
&n
bsp; "What time is it?" asked Nate, his voice fuzzy with sleep.
"Three a.m," I said, my voice barely a whisper.
"What's up?" he asked, suddenly alert.
"I think someone's prowling in my house."
"Lock yourself in the bathroom. I'll be there in ten minutes. I'll let myself in through the front just so you know it's me." He hung up. I started for the bathroom and locked myself in. It felt like a cowardly move yet I knew it was the smartest one. If Terry's accomplice was downstairs, they had a gun and I was no match for an intruder with a weapon. But neither was Nate, I realized with horror. What if he walked in on someone in the middle of a robbery and they shot him? Fear flooded my logic.
Before I could consider the intelligence of what I was doing, I snapped the bathroom lock open and crept out, inching my way to the hallway. Ever so cautiously, I looked out. The long window at the end of the hallway allowed plenty of moonlight inside, lighting the corridor with silvery shards. No one was there, but they could have been in any of the bedrooms, and ready to leap out the moment I passed. I wondered if I could run so fast no one could catch me. Or maybe I could use my bodyweight to leverage them away from me?
A flash of light outside made me strain my head towards the long window. There it was again, a small dot of light weaving through the yard. A flashlight! Whomever I heard wasn't inside at all, but outside.
This was my moment. Before I could run through a dozen more scenarios, each scarier than the last, I darted forwards, sliding onto my knees when I reached the window. I peeked over the window sill, afraid that whomever was out there would look up and see me. The flashlight beam reached the edge of the property, bobbing around in the dark, then it disappeared. I watched and waited for it to appear again. I could have been sitting there for seconds or minutes. I had no idea.
Then a stair creaked below. And another.
I shuffled around in my crouch, facing the stairs. That was why the light disappeared! They found a way into the house and didn't want to alert me. Well, I would show them! I grabbed the big vase from the stand and tiptoed to the top of the staircase. As soon as I saw a head come into view, I raised it, waiting for the right moment to smash it downwards using maximum impact.
"Nate?" My voice trembled when I recognized the dark hair and black sweater.
"Vanessa? What are you doing with that? Were you ready to smash it on my head?"
I glanced up at the vase I raised. "Yep," I mumbled, shivering.
Nate grabbed it, setting it on the floor and pulling me against him. "I got here as fast as I could and I'm pretty sure my sweater is on inside out. Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," I mumbled against his chest. He was so warm and reassuring, it was hard not to cry. I adjusted my head away from a small object that hung on a chain around his neck and I relaxed into him. "I heard something and I thought they got inside."
"Are they still inside?" he asked. "I came directly upstairs."
"I don't think so. I saw a light in the yard. A flashlight."
"Come on. We're going to turn all the lights on. If someone's still around, that should scare them off. If not, my trusty friend and I will make sure they get lost," he added as he held up a baseball bat.
"They have a gun," I pointed out.
Nate stiffened. "Did you see it?"
"No, but someone shot Terry and I don't want to take any chances. Don't confront anyone, please."
He pulled me against him again. "I won't but let's get those lights switched on. No thief wants to draw attention to himself and a house lit up like a lighthouse at this time of night definitely will attract attention." Nate reached for the hallway switch and a moment later, the whole hallway filled with light, eclipsing the moonlight. Nate kept hold of my hand, tugging me along in his wake as he moved from bedroom to bedroom, flipping on all the lights until the whole upper floor was a shining beacon of happy illumination. At the top of the stairs, he tucked my fingers into the waistband of his jeans enabling him to grip the bat with both hands. "Just so I know where you are at all times," he explained. This time when I shivered, it wasn't from the cold.
We edged downstairs, Nate going in front of me, and repeating the motion of turning on every light. "No one's here," said Nate when we returned to the entryway.
I slid my fingers from where I gripped his jeans and rubbed some warmth into them. "Are you sure you heard someone?"
"Absolutely sure," I replied. The noise was as unmistakable as the light bobbing in the garden. "You don't believe me?"
"I believe you," he said. "I came in through the front door so I know that it was locked but we should check the other exits, especially if someone was in your yard."
"Let's go." We walked more confidently this time, no longer worried that someone was ready to spring out at us. Nate tried the kitchen's French doors and said they were locked. Next we checked the doors in the rear sitting room, Aunt Edie's painting studio.
"These are locked too," I said.
"But the sunroom isn't." Nate pointed past the doors we currently stood beside that served as the entrance to the glass house. The sunroom's external door had a smashed pane adjacent to the lock. "I think someone tried to get in that way. They might have accidentally broken the pane or even smashed it deliberately."
I breathed out a deep sigh of relief, so glad to know my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. Not that it made me feel peaceful. Someone had still tried to enter my house in the dead of night when I was home alone!
"If Terry had a set of keys, his partner might have taken them and expected them to work still," said Nate. "Did you tell anyone you changed the locks?"
"No, I don't think so. Tia, maybe, after I found Terry. My parents. Detective Logan. Did you tell anyone?"
"Yeah, I told everyone," said Nate, shaking his head. "It was the most exciting job I’d had in months and I couldn't wait to tell everyone." He looked up, and the edges of his lips were quivering.
I punched him on the shoulder but didn't put any weight into it. "Very funny."
"We should call the police."
"I left my cellphone upstairs." I glanced at the entryway and rubbed my arms as the night chill settled over me. Even if we were ninety-nine percent sure the wannabe burglar couldn’t get inside, I still didn't want to walk around the house on my own.
"We'll call him on mine," said Nate, already tapping the screen. He gave a short message to the police dispatcher and hung up. "Someone will be here in a few minutes," he said. "How are you holding up?"
"Rattled but fine." I stifled a yawn and didn't need to add I was very tired too. Getting up in the middle night was never my favorite thing to do but on top of all the running around yesterday, and the mountain of things I planned for tomorrow — today! — the lack of sleep would definitely have a poor effect on me.
Instead of Detective Logan turning up, two of the younger officers came. They introduced themselves as Officer Nixon and Officer Ortiz, whom I met before. "You reported a break-in?" asked Officer Ortiz.
"That's right," I said. "Someone tried to get inside via one of the rear doors."
"They didn't succeed?"
"Not that we can see," said Nate. "There's a broken pane of glass but the doors are still locked."
"Did you happen to see the person?" asked Officer Nixon.
"No. I just heard a noise that awoke me. It sounded like rattling but I could have mistaken the glass breaking for that," I explained.
"And you, sir? Did you hear the same thing as your wife?"
"I wasn't here," said Nate.
"Why weren't you at home?"
"We're not married," I explained quickly. "Nate doesn't live here. I called him because I was worried and he came right over but I think the burglar got away just before Nate arrived."
"What makes you think that?" asked Officer Nixon. He looked behind me, his eyes roving around the entryway.
"I saw a flashlight in the garden. It disappeared right at the edge of the property."
"Tha
t's probably for the best," said Officer Nixon. "You did the right thing by turning on all the lights."
"Let's have a look at the broken door. I'll take down your report and we can get on our way so you two can go back to bed," said Officer Ortiz, stepping inside as I widened the door.
I thought about explaining that bed was the last place Nate and I were planning to go but it seemed unnecessary in the early hours. Plus, they didn't need to know I had no intention of falling back to sleep like nothing happened. Even if I were exhausted for the rest of the day, there was no way I could sleep again tonight. Not now that I was more than certain Terry's accomplice was definitely still in town. There was no one else I could think of who would want to break into my house.
"Did you notify Detective Logan?" I asked them.
Both officers shook their heads. "Is there a reason why we should?" asked Officer Ortiz.
"It could be related to Terry Swanson's death," I said.
"I knew this was the house," said Officer Nixon, his interest growing as he tapped his co-worker's arm. "I said that to you in the car, man."
"Show me the damage and I'll make a decision on whether to call Detective Logan out tonight," decided Officer Ortiz. "Since no one was hurt and no crime was committed, he probably won't want to be disturbed."
Grabbing the keys from the kitchen drawer, I unlocked the French doors and the two officers stepped onto the veranda. They walked over to the sunroom door to examine the broken pane with their own flashlights. They conferred briefly before looking around for a few minutes and returning to the kitchen. Officer Nixon closed the door behind them.
"It's not great news," said Officer Ortiz. "It’s a dry night so there're no footstep impressions although we did see a few broken twigs from the nearby bushes. That doesn't necessarily mean a potential burglar caused it. Your yard is in pretty bad shape."
"I know. We intend to tackle it very soon," I said.
"There's no reason to call out Detective Logan now but I'll notify him when he starts his shift in the morning. He might come by to talk to you, given the recent circumstances, and I'd like to send a crime scene tech to dust for fingerprints on the door. Can I ask you to leave that area alone until the technician has finished his inspection of it?" Officer Ortiz continued.
Alibi in April (Calendar Mysteries Book 4) Page 13