“Did he show up?” Violet asked.
Lindsey nodded.
“So, he’s alive,” Nancy said and put her hand over her heart. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“Maybe,” Lindsey said. She then told them the rest of the story. They were shocked about Milton being accosted and worried about Stewart, reaffirming Lindsey’s own upset about the whole situation.
“But why would someone harm the Rosens?” Nancy asked. “They’ve lived here all their lives, and everyone knows they’re a bit batty with the booby-trapped house and hoarding issues. Why harm them?”
“Did they have anything of value in their home?” Violet asked. “Maybe in their piles of junk, they collected gold bars or perfect diamonds, or something else of value that someone wanted enough to kill for it.”
“You mean someone like those two collectors who came to the library?” Beth said. “Maybe they know what the Rosens had that would be worth killing for.”
Lindsey felt a chill sweep across her back, and it wasn’t from the cold. Rather, it was from the realization that there was evil in their midst, and it was stalking the Rosen brothers, and it had no problem taking out anyone in its way, like Milton.
“I don’t know that Hodges and Perkins were planning on staying in town for very long,” Lindsey said. “Unless Emma informed them otherwise, but I don’t know that she’d have any reason to do so.”
“Except that they’d been in contact with Peter, which might give her a reason,” Beth said. “I heard they’re staying at Jeanette’s bed-and-breakfast.”
“So they have to go elsewhere to eat lunch and dinner,” Sully said. He turned and looked at Lindsey. “Dinner tomorrow at the Anchor?”
“It’s a date,” she said.
The room went still, and she glanced at her friends’ faces and sighed. She knew better than to lob around the d word in front of them—really, she did—but she was emotionally and physically exhausted. She most definitely did not have the stamina to deal with their input on her love life.
Still, the damage had been done. Nancy looked pleased and said, “I’ll give you a lift into work, so you don’t have to take your bike. Sully can bring you home. Right, Sully?”
“Sure,” he said.
Lindsey glanced at the others. Violet looked reproachful and Beth excited. She knew there was no pleasing everyone, but at least Beth looked happy.
“I have a date, too,” Beth said.
“Another one with Aidan?” Lindsey asked.
“Yup,” Beth said. Then she blushed and giggled.
Both Nancy and Violet grinned at her, and Lindsey had the feeling that they’d spent a good portion of the time they’d waited for Lindsey listening to Beth talk about Aidan.
Lindsey was happy for her friend, but she also felt a tiny spurt of envy that Beth was in the salad days of her relationship. There were no issues with her and Aidan; everything was new and lovely. Lindsey missed those days.
She didn’t know if it was the warm milk or the fire or the ebb of the adrenaline she’d been cruising on for the past few hours, but she realized she was weary all the way down to the marrow in her bones. A big yawn loosened her jaw, and she rose to her feet.
“I’m sorry, but I have to call it a night,” she said. She reached over and squeezed Beth’s hand in hers. “Details tomorrow?”
“Definitely,” Beth said.
“I’m out, too,” Sully said.
They said good night to everyone, and Sully followed Lindsey and Heathcliff to the door. They grabbed their coats on the way, and Lindsey stood by the front door, holding her coat over her arm while Sully shrugged his on.
A part of her didn’t want him to leave, and it was on the tip of her tongue to invite him upstairs, but she knew it was for the wrong reasons. Tonight she wanted to have someone at hand to tell her that Stewart was going to be fine every time her anxiety spiked, which was likely to be every fifteen minutes, but that wasn’t fair to Sully.
“So, I’ll pick you up after work tomorrow?” he asked.
“I’m off at five,” she said.
Sully stepped forward and cupped her face with his right hand. His eyes locked onto hers, and he said, “I know how you’re feeling. But I want you to be clear that what happened tonight wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was,” she disagreed. “But thanks for saying it wasn’t. I should have called Emma as soon as Stewart walked into the library, but I was stupid—”
“No, stop,” he said. “There was no way for you to know that someone would attack Milton to try and get to Stewart, and we don’t know for sure if they got him or not.”
“But the footprints in the parking lot indicate that they did,” Lindsey said. “I get sick to my stomach just thinking about it.”
Sully pulled her close and gave her a strong hug.
“Remember, Stewart is a tough old coot. I don’t think he’d be taken that easily.”
Lindsey nodded. It was true. “I really hope you’re right.”
“I am,” he said. He kissed her forehead and pushed her toward the stairs. “Go get some sleep. Everything is better after a good night’s rest.”
Lindsey put her foot on the first step, then she turned back, thinking again that she would ask him to stay with her just for tonight.
“Sully—”
The door to Nancy’s apartment opened, and Violet and Beth appeared.
“Yes?” Sully asked. His gaze was intent upon her face, as if he knew what she’d been about to say.
Violet and Beth looked between them as they shrugged on their own coats.
“Thanks again for your help,” she said. She figured the appearance of her friends was the universe’s way of telling her that now was not the time to be having a sleepover with her ex-boyfriend.
“Anytime,” he said.
Sully held the door open for Beth and Violet. They waved as they headed out into the night. Sully paused before stepping through the open door. He looked at her, and his ocean blue eyes twinkled at her.
“What?” she asked.
“Just so you know, the answer would have been yes,” he said. Then he winked at her and slipped out into the night.
The door shut behind him, and Lindsey stood half on the bottom step, staring after him. She glanced down at Heathcliff, who looked up at her and wagged with his tongue hanging out of his mouth as if he was in on the teasing.
Lindsey reached down to scratch his head and felt a small smile lift the corners of her mouth. Heathcliff could always make her smile even in the darkest hours. She crossed the foyer and locked the door after her friends.
The metal knob felt icy cold to the touch, and Lindsey shivered. She hated the thought that Stewart was out there, but then she supposed it was a better alternative to his being kidnapped.
With any luck, Sully was right and Stewart had managed to get away. And maybe, just maybe, they could find him again before he came to any harm.
* * *
Preoccupied with Stewart’s whereabouts, Lindsey had arrived early at the library and spent her morning studying up on the Rosen family. The town of Briar Creek had published a small weekly newspaper that had come out every Thursday afternoon since the town had been established as a resort town in the late eighteen hundreds.
The library had copies of every single Briar Creek Gazette on microfilm thanks to an archival project by the town’s historical society back in the nineteen sixties. Currently, they were working on digitizing the film, but the progress was slow, as it was being done by volunteers.
Lindsey hunched over the microfilm reader, scanning the old issues of the Gazette, looking for any mention of the Rosen family. Engrossed in her project, she barely registered the arrival of Ms. Cole until the lemon began to unload the cart from the book drop with a relentless chorus of bangs, thumps and slams that was impossible to ignore.
Lindsey pulled her eyes away from the lit-up window of the film reader and glanced at the desk. Ms. Cole was looking positively green toda
y. From her heather green sweater to her olive green skirt over her thick Kelly green tights, it was an off-putting outfit to say the least.
As if sensing her stare, Ms. Cole glanced up and met Lindsey’s gaze. Her lips tightened into a severe line, and she thumped a thick hardbound Stephen King novel down on the counter. It made Lindsey jump, and she glanced around the library and noted that many of the patrons had stopped what they were doing to watch Ms. Cole as well.
Thump! Thump! Thump! James Patterson, Jayne Ann Krentz and Nora Roberts titles were slammed on top of King. Lindsey hopped up from her seat and hurried to the check-in counter before Ms. Cole could add to the pile.
“Is everything all right, Ms. Cole?” she asked.
“It most certainly is not,” Ms. Cole snapped. “Of all the selfish, thoughtless, reckless, asinine things to do . . .”
Lindsey looked at the pile of books. She couldn’t imagine what someone had done that had Ms. Cole worked up into such a mighty froth. Had they spilled a beverage on the books, marked their place by dog-earring the corners of the pages, what?
“Who are you talking about?” Lindsey asked.
Ms. Cole snapped up to her full height. “You!”
“Me?” Lindsey gaped. “What did I do?”
“You put my Milton at risk!” Ms. Cole cried. “What if he had been concussed or even worse, killed? How could you be so . . . so . . . so stupid?”
Lindsey felt the eyes of every single person in the library upon them. She felt her face grow warm, not from embarrassment because of the stares but because what Ms. Cole was saying was true. She had put Milton at risk. It had been inexcusable.
She glanced at Ms. Cole. She felt her chest get tight as she noted the glisten of unshed tears in the lemon’s eyes. She reached across the desk and took Ms. Cole’s hands in hers.
“You’re right, Ms. Cole. Milton is one of my most favorite people in the world, and I . . . I can’t even imagine . . .” She paused to take a breath. Ms. Cole’s hands felt cold in hers, and there was a part of Lindsey that was shocked that Ms. Cole was even allowing her to touch her, so she clung harder, trying to give Ms. Cole some warmth. “I’m sorry. It was unforgivable of me to put him in harm’s way.”
Ms. Cole stared at her for a moment and then removed her hands from beneath Lindsey’s. She didn’t speak. She simply nodded in acknowledgment of Lindsey’s apology and then turned back to her cart full of books.
If an anvil of guilt had fallen out of the sky and smashed Lindsey flat, she couldn’t feel any more squashed with shame than she did. Knowing there was nothing more to be said, she turned and left the desk and went back to the microfilm machine.
The patrons who had been watching their conversation turned back to what they were doing, but Lindsey still felt horrible. She had finally been making some progress in her relationship with Ms. Cole, but now instead of just being disliked because she was new, she was reviled, and rightly so, for putting a beloved member of the community in danger.
Lindsey stared at the microfilm without seeing it. Maybe she should just pack it up and forget the whole thing. None of this was her business. Finding Stewart and figuring out who had shot Peter was a job for the police. She put her fingers on the crank to manually wind the film back onto its spool. The name Rosen hit her right between the eyes, and she stopped.
Lindsey glanced up at the date. It was the summer of nineteen sixty-one. The headline read Dr. Rosen Drowns at Sea. Lindsey read the short piece. It talked about Peter’s heroism in trying to save his father’s life and breaking his own back in the process. It gave the details of Dr. Rosen’s memorial service even though his body hadn’t been recovered.
Lindsey knew that the Rosen brothers were in their early eighties, so she figured Peter must have been in his mid to late twenties at the time of the accident. He had been in a wheelchair, virtually stuck on his family’s island, ever since. She wondered what the house had looked like back then with a full staff and their mother still alive.
From what Sully had told her about Dr. and Mrs. Rosen, it seemed neither of them were ideal parents. Stewart and Peter had only had each other. No wonder Stewart had looked so shattered when she saw him. For the first time in his life, he was utterly alone.
Lindsey scrolled to the next week’s paper. She wondered if there would be a report about the service. There was. It was held in the small Congregational church just down the street from the library. The reporter described the service as small but respectful and waxed on about Mrs. Rosen’s first time off of her island in over twenty years. Despite being a virtual shut-in, the reporter described Mrs. Rosen’s clothing as the height of fashion with her “little nothing” dress and her bouffant hairdo. There was a grainy picture of Mrs. Rosen and Stewart. Peter was not in attendance, as he was in New Haven at Yale–New Haven Hospital for his back. Lindsey wondered if that was the only time he’d ever been out of Briar Creek. She suspected it was.
She wished she could have known the Rosen brothers before their lives had been defined by tragedy. There were a few people in town, like Milton, who knew the brothers back when they were all young, but because the Rosens rarely left their island, there were no close friendships made and there was no one to say what they had really been like.
The only people who might know more about the brothers were the staff who had lived on the island with them. Lindsey glanced at the bottom of the article. There was a list of names of the people who had attended the service. She wondered if any of them had stayed in touch with the family and would be someone Stewart would turn to in a crisis. Without overthinking it, she printed the page.
She finished rewinding the film and put it away in its small box. She thought about showing the names to Milton, but the image of a teary Ms. Cole stopped her. She couldn’t—she wouldn’t—do anything to put Milton in harm’s way or upset Ms. Cole again. She would have to find someone else.
She pulled out the metal drawer that housed the film and refiled the box. She was tempted to take another and continue her research, but she thought better of it. She would show the names to Sully tonight at dinner. Given that he’d spent his childhood on the islands, maybe he could give her some insight into the families of the people who had attended Dr. Rosen’s funeral all those years ago.
She resumed her seat at the reference desk and willed a patron to come and ask her a question, any question. She’d even be happy to do in-depth research on the Connecticut state statutes if it meant she could stay busy and ignore the constriction in her chest that seemed to get tighter every time her gaze inadvertently landed on Ms. Cole.
The early afternoon dragged, but later, a crowd of students filled the small library to bursting, for which Lindsey was profoundly grateful. Midterm papers were under way, and she spent her afternoon helping fifty kids choose their science fair projects. They had it all going on with everything from manufacturing a manmade cloud to hair-raising projects with static electricity.
Milton arrived, and Lindsey noted that Ms. Cole gave him a frosty glare and then turned her back on him. Milton looked crestfallen, and Lindsey felt her chest get tight again.
This was her fault. She crossed the library and joined Milton in the room where he was setting up for his chess club. She knocked on the doorframe, and he glanced up from the board he was laying out with a hopeful expression. When he recognized Lindsey, he was clearly disappointed but quickly tried to hide it.
“Sorry,” she said. “You were hoping for someone else?”
“Eugenia is a bit put out with me,” he said. “She’ll come around . . . eventually.”
“I’m sorry,” Lindsey said again. Truly, she felt as if all she’d done was apologize today.
“Not your fault,” he said. He gave her a stern look. “It was my idea to linger after the meeting and my bad judgment to go outside without letting you know what I was doing.”
“That’s not—” she protested, but he waved her off.
“Yes, it was foolish. There’d been a
murder, a cold-blooded murder, and I waltzed out into the night without even considering that it could be dangerous.”
“Why would you?” Lindsey entered the room and picked a pawn up from the game board. She turned it over in her fingers. “We aren’t criminals. We don’t think like they do. Why would you have suspected danger when by all accounts it was a person in need of aid? It’s not your fault any more than it’s mine.”
Milton gave her a closed-lip smile. “We’ll shoulder the blame together then?”
“The burden will be lighter that way,” Lindsey said. She gave Milton a half hug. “I am so glad you’re all right. I couldn’t bear it if you’d been more seriously injured.”
“Me either,” he said and then laughed.
The door banged open, and members of Milton’s chess club began to stream in. Lindsey waved at him as she walked back out into the library. She could feel someone watching her as she crossed the room, and she didn’t have to look to know it was Ms. Cole.
Time, she assured herself, refusing to look and see the hurt or accusation in the lemon’s eyes. It was just going to take time.
Lindsey hurried out of the library at five o’clock on the dot. Sully’s truck was parked at the curb, and he hopped out to open the door for her as soon as she appeared.
Sully gave her work outfit, a skirt and heels, an appreciative look as he helped her into the truck.
“I am pretty sure librarians didn’t look like you back in the day,” he said. “I would have noticed.”
“Mr. Tupper was your town librarian for thirty years,” Lindsey said. “I’m pretty sure he never showed this much leg.”
“Thank heavens,” Sully said, and Lindsey chuckled.
He shut the door after her and circled around the front. It was a very short drive to the Blue Anchor, but since they had no idea if the two collectors would show up or when, they were planning to be there for the long haul, and this way Sully could take Lindsey home afterward.
A Likely Story Page 13