by Hillary Avis
“Soon, huh?” Allison sat back in her chair, absentmindedly running her hand over Pogo’s soft, silky fur. “Do you know when?”
Kara shook her head as the server brought her drink over. She breathed in the steam and gave a happy sigh. “They have ninety days but usually they get it done faster. Especially when the sheriff is pulling special favors for you. She’ll probably move to the state pen in a few weeks, is my guess.”
“Special favors?” Allison frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know. Leroy just seems to help her out a little more than he has to. Brings her takeout. Lets her make extra calls. That kind of stuff. I think he has a crush on her, to be honest.”
Allison’s breath quickened. Leroy had a crush on Elaine? She didn’t know what that meant, exactly, but it couldn’t be good. On her lap, Pogo grumbled, and she realized she’d stopped petting him. She resumed her ministrations while Kara finished her coffee and they paid their checks.
“OK, mister, time to go home.” Kara stood and held her arms out for Pogo, then wobbled unsteadily. “Whoa, guess that last one went to my head.”
Who would have guessed that three cups of Irish coffee would make a person a little tipsy? Allison waited until Kara was steady on her feet before she handed her the little dog. She chose her words carefully. “Are you heading to work?”
Kara wrapped Pogo’s leash around her hand, then stooped to set him down on the patio surface. “Nope. Today it’s just Pogo, me, and some Long Island iced tea.” She flashed a wicked grin.
Allison had a hard time returning it. She’d seen the bottom drawer of Kara’s desk at the police station crowded with beer bottles. And she’d noticed Kara’s cruiser parked at the Why Not tavern every weekday afternoon during happy hour. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Kara without a drink in her hand. Allison bit her lip as she debated whether to bring it up. “Did you drive here?” she finally asked.
“Nope. This little guy wanted to walk.” Kara leaned to ruffle Pogo’s fur, then gave Allison a little wave and wobbled off down the sidewalk.
At least she wasn’t drinking and driving. Allison still didn’t feel great about letting Kara stumble away without saying anything. Though she hated to admit Leroy could be right about anything, his concern about Kara’s behavior on the job just might be justified.
Chapter 17
Monday
To everyone’s surprise, Myra worked her shift at Golden Gardens on Monday. She bustled around, catching up on all the duties she hadn’t delegated to Julio while she was taking her family leave, until her lunch break when she waved down Allison in the kitchen on her way out.
“I saw Mr. Paul checking out your rear end during enrichment.” She wiggled her eyebrows and sampled one of the cookies they’d baked for their morning activity. “I take it you had a good visit this weekend.”
“He remembers me,” Allison whispered, glancing over her shoulder like she might get found out by someone. Myra’s eyes widened and her face lit up. Before she could offer congratulations, Allison added, “Just a teeny bit, from when we were first dating. But it’s enough, Myra. He knows I’m Emily’s mom. He believes we were married, even if he doesn’t remember it himself yet.”
Myra squealed and wrapped her arms around Allison in a tight hug, squeezing as she murmured in her ear. “He will. Oh, baby girl. I never thought I’d see the day. I’m so, so, so happy for you.”
“Stop or you’re going to make me cry.” Allison pulled back, grinning through the tears that swam in her vision. “I can’t get my hopes up too much, but—” She broke off, overwhelmed by the emotion that swelled in her chest. She shook it off. “What about you? How was your weekend? Why are you even here?! I thought the three kids were still too much for Crystal.”
Myra nodded, as she finished off the warm cookie and dabbed the corners of her mouth with the paper towel she’d been using as a makeshift plate. “Oh yes. She’s still in bed most of the time. But Isaac’s mom flew out from North Carolina yesterday, and since Miz Patterson is here to help, I guess I’m not needed.” She pursed her lips.
Allison giggled at her expression. “Isn’t some extra help a good thing? I thought you were worried about missing more work, anyway.”
“Yes, well. She doesn’t need to be quite so helpful. She already rearranged my cupboards, Allison.”
Allison gave a mock gasp. “She didn’t!”
“She did. I can’t find anything.”
“How dare she organize. The nerve.”
Myra grabbed a dish towel and snapped it in her direction. “Don’t you get sassy with me, young lady. That is my house, and in my house, you better ask before you mess up my system.”
Allison dissolved into a puddle of giggles. She’d seen Myra’s cabinet organization system. It was one of those “put it in a pile and sort it out later” systems. She would have organized it herself if she’d spent any more time there.
“Don’t you laugh at me! She stays much longer, and I am going to start drinking.”
Allison sobered at the mention of alcohol. Myra caught the shift in her expression. “What is it?”
She shook her head. “I was just thinking about Kara, that’s all.”
“Is Leroy on her case about drinking?” Myra asked shrewdly. You couldn’t get anything past her.
Allison nodded. “I’m a little worried about her, too.”
“That’s a tough one to bring up.” Myra sighed. “I’ve noticed she uses alcohol as a quick fix. Probably should have said something sooner, but it was just a feeling. Maybe we can bring it up next time we’re together.”
“Like an intervention? I’ve never heard of one of those that went well.” Allison glanced at the clock and clutched her bag, with the signed gift deed paperwork still inside, closer. “I better run. I have errands.”
“You’re going to leave me alone with that handsome husband of yours?” Myra teased.
Allison grabbed the dish towel and snapped it at her. “Hands off, you hussy.” With Myra’s giggles ringing in her ears, she left to drop off the paperwork at the county recorder’s office.
WHEN SHE GOT HOME AND went to the dining room to check on the dogs, she caught sight of Taylor’s red hoodie flashing past the French doors on his way out. She yanked open the back door and called to him. “Hey! I see you.”
He balanced on top of the fence, arms outstretched, already halfway to his bedroom window. Carefully raising one finger to his lips, he jerked his head toward the yellow house next door and hissed, “She can hear.”
Allison moved closer so she could keep her voice low and craned her neck to look up at him. “Did you get your money? I left it for you on the table.” She hadn’t been sure Taylor would show up after Michelle’s angry confrontation, but she’d added a few dollars to the pile for today, just in case.
One shake of his head. No.
“It’s your money. You earned it, fair and square.”
“I’m not allowed.” His mouth bunched like he’d bitten a green plum. She waited, sensing he wanted to say more, and finally he did. “I was saving for a new bike.”
“But you have a—”
“She took it!” he flared, interrupting her, his tone acid. “She says it’s too dangerous. I can go too far. I could get lost. I can’t watch the library if I’m riding around town. Blah, blah, blah.”
Allison took a step back so she could see him a little better without cranking her neck to such an absurd angle. No wonder Michelle was paranoid about Taylor’s safety—she was afraid that he’d end up like his parents, dead at the hands of the Claypool family. She felt for Michelle in that moment, she really did. But her fears were overblown. Elaine was behind bars, and Zack was far away—plus, Taylor was a child. Zack and Elaine didn’t even know that Taylor was aware of the library and its magic. And pretty soon, she’d be able to keep an eye on Zack’s memories. If he was planning to hurt Taylor, she’d know about it.
“
Listen. I’ll keep the money safe for you. When you have enough saved up, I’ll talk to your grandma. Who knows, maybe she’ll give your bike back. And if she won’t, I’ll help you buy one with your money.”
“She’ll just take it,” Taylor said in a small voice. “You don’t know her. All she cares about is watching.”
“You can keep it at my house, if it comes to that.”
Taylor’s sharp, disbelieving laugh echoed between the two houses. “You’ll be gone soon, anyway.” Then, like a cat burglar, he glided swiftly down the fence and back through the window, just as the back door creaked open on the other side of the fence.
“Taylor?” Michelle’s voice was querulous, afraid. “Are you out here?”
Allison froze and held her breath for a few beats, waiting for the sound of the door closing again. But when it didn’t, she let it out in a sigh. “It’s just me. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Silence on the other side of the fence. Then, “Did you check the books today?”
“Not yet. I just got home from dropping off the forms.”
Michelle grunted. “Well, check.” The door slammed.
Allison sighed and headed back into the house, her skin prickling with rebellion like it had when she was a teenager and her parents wouldn’t let her go out with friends. No wonder Taylor was chafing under Michelle’s thumb. She was so single-minded.
Allison paused, her hand on the back doorknob, her criticism of Michelle ringing in her ears. The same complaint could be applied to her—had been applied to her, by Emily. Her own implacable focus on helping Paul recover his memories had driven her life for the last two years, to the detriment of everything else. She’d emptied their bank account, ruined the bakery business, alienated her daughter. If it weren’t for the library, she wouldn’t even have a home.
It didn’t feel great, comparing herself to rigid, bitter Michelle. This was what Emily had been warning her against all this time. But was there any other option than single-mindedness? Time was running out. As Taylor had pointed out so keenly, she’d be gone soon, at least if Michelle had her way. And Allison had a sneaking suspicion that Michelle always got her way.
She yanked open the door, wishing she could scream without alerting the watchdog next door. Inside, four furry faces pressed against the wire pen. Their gentle, quizzical expressions melted away her anger and frustration. She scooped up Venus, who cuddled into her chest as she sat down to check the table of contents in Family Dinners again.
Her breath caught as Zack’s name leaped out at her from the list.
It worked. Even though the deed transfer forms couldn’t have been processed yet, just mailing them had convinced the library to include Zack’s memories in the books.
With her free hand, she messaged Michelle. “We got him.”
Chapter 18
One peanut butter sandwich and sixteen magic memory books later, she found something promising. Zack’s memory in Combinations and Codes. It was a brief entry, just a number: 0521. The four digits jumped out at her because May 21 was her and Paul’s wedding anniversary. Had Zack chosen it on purpose, or was it just a coincidence?
It didn’t matter at this point. If the numbers were a padlock combination, it wasn’t a very secure one. Probably a gym locker or a suitcase. She sighed and sat back in her chair, drumming her fingers on the tabletop. The code to a storage unit would most likely be six digits, if it even had a combination. Her storage unit here in Remembrance had a key. The only code was the—
She sat up, a bolt of electricity straightening her spine. The only code was the gate code. 0521. Easy to remember because it was her wedding anniversary.
All this time, and Elaine’s storage unit was right here in town. Hands trembling, she found the number for the main office in her contact list.
“Hughes Mini Storage, this is Nan.” Nan Hughes, one half of the couple that owned the place, answered. The sound of laughter and glasses clinking was audible in the background; Nan must be at the Why Not happy hour.
Born Agnes Weaver, she’d been one year ahead of Allison in school and had, in their teenage years, a reputation for throwing the best parties when her parents went out of town. It surprised everyone when, instead of moving to a big city, Nancy had married the shy Ken Hughes and settled down in Remembrance to pop out one kid after another.
“Hey, it’s Allison Rye. I was wondering—”
“You got a problem with your unit?” Nan yelled into the phone.
“No, my son-in-law—”
“Your what?” The background noise faded as Nan moved somewhere quieter.
“My son-in-law, Zack Kirkpatrick. He wanted me to grab something from his unit, but I forget which one is his.”
“Hang on, let me check.” The line went silent at Nan put her on hold. She popped back a second later. “Zack’s in number 197. Ten by ten. Bill paid up, you’ll be happy to know.”
“Great, thanks.” Allison hung up and sent Michelle a text. “You’re never going to believe this. The unit’s here in town.”
She settled Venus with her siblings and went to open the front door, leaving it ajar so Michelle could let herself in. A few minutes later, Michelle arrived, Taylor in tow. As the sounds of their footsteps echoed in the hall, Allison remembered that the bills she was saving for Taylor were still stacked on the dining table. She quickly swept them under the pile of reject books so Michelle wouldn’t be reminded of the money.
Allison pulled out a chair for Michelle and then took a seat herself. Taylor went straight for the puppies, of course. “Come on out, big guy,” he cooed, lifting Everest into his lap.
“Get up. We’re not here to play with dogs,” Michelle said sternly.
“Oh, let him be. He can listen from the floor.”
Michelle glared at her but didn’t argue when Allison pushed the Combinations book toward her and pointed to the entry under Zack’s name.
“That’s the gate code for Hughes Mini Storage. He’s in unit 197.”
“Good. You should go tonight. I have a can of kerosene you can use.”
Allison blinked. Surely, Michelle couldn’t mean...
“Don’t be squeamish. I’d do it myself, but I don’t get around too well these days. Plus I don’t think Taylor should—”
“Obviously, Taylor shouldn’t commit arson!” Allison gaped at her. “Neither should I. I thought you wanted to get the paper back, not destroy it!”
Michelle’s face was stoic. “I’ve been thinking about it. The paper is as dangerous as the pen—more dangerous, maybe. I think we should get rid of them both before the new guardian comes in.”
Allison’s fingers began to tingle as all the blood drained from her limbs toward the panic rising in her gut. She didn’t care about the blank paper or the pen, not really—she could make a new pen with pages from the books and use that to write in the margins or on other blank pages. And she didn’t care about the box of vintage memories that the Claypools had torn out during their memory-crime spree in the early Sixties. Those memories were long gone and most of their original owners were likely dead, anyway.
But she did care about the box of Paul’s memories that accompanied them in the storage unit. Now that she knew Paul could regain any memories that she copied into the books, they were more precious to her than anything.
“I made a list of some candidates.” Michelle pulled a folded piece of paper from her housecoat pocket and handed it to her across the table. “See what you think.”
Allison pushed it back, her heart still hammering. “I get to choose the next guardian, not you. Those are the rules, right? The current guardian picks the next one?”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “Why else would I show you the list? If it were up to me, I’d just as soon keep it to myself.”
“I’ll make my own list, thank you very much. And I’m not going to burn down a whole storage unit when I can just as easily cut a lock. If you want to burn the paper, you can do it in your fireplace or something. But
the pen belongs to my family, and my family will decide what to do with it.” Allison felt her cheeks heat up along with her temper.
“Suit yourself. But don’t blame me when it comes back to bite you,” Michelle said, rising from her chair and squeezing Taylor’s shoulder. She watched as he grudgingly put the puppy back in the pen and got to his feet, then added to Allison, “Tell me when it’s done.”
THE IRONY OF WAITING for nightfall on the longest day of the year was not lost on Allison. Impatient for the light to fade, she dressed in all black, a color she’d banished to the back of her closet for the last couple of years. She didn’t want to bring any more darkness into Paul’s life, or the lives of the other residents at Golden Gardens, and since she visited there every day, there was no room for black clothes in her wardrobe. She had to dig around to find a pair of old yoga pants and a paint-splattered hoodie.
She added a pair of sunglasses, cinched the hood over her hair, and laughed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Not suspicious at all, wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt on the warmest day they’d had this year and sporting sunglasses after dark. She just hoped she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew.
When the last rays finally slipped away and the puppies had settled in for their first three-hour stint of sleep, Allison drove across the bridge and parked behind the Dream-a-Lot motel, a pink, crenellated relic of another era of roadside hospitality. A block away from the motel, the well-lit storage facility had cameras pointed at the street, and even an amateur criminal such as herself knew better than to expose her license plate on tape. Conveniently, the motel’s back parking lot was just across the street from the storage unit’s rear exit. She wouldn’t have to walk past the cameras with the boxes in her arms to get back to her car.