Zach met her eyes for a moment, then set his empty can down and pulled the journal onto his lap. He read aloud.
“This is dreadfully difficult because I once cared for him. But though I have overlooked his small transgressions, I cannot sit idly by and ignore this one. I have evidence of his crime safely hidden, and I know I must tell him and insist that he turn himself in. I believe the authorities would be much more lenient on him. But I truly fear a confrontation, particularly since I don’t have irrefutable proof. He hides a vicious temper.”
Zach met her eyes again. “She can’t be talking about Harlan Greene. Frankly, I can’t see Harlan doing anything wrong.”
“I can’t either, but I really don’t know him all that well. What if he did do something to Anna Mae? What if she told him what she knew, and he got so angry that he shoved her into that table?”
“Again, what could Harlan have done that was so bad? The guy’s damn near eighty.”
“He’s seventy-five. He’s also a tax collector who gambles.”
Zach drew the same conclusion she had. “Embezzlement?”
“It’s the only thing I could think of. I scoured the book looking for hints that it might be Harlan, but in the later journals, Anna Mae was vague about people’s identities. I only recognized my mother in her writings because she described the gifts she left on our porch.”
“Did you find out what her evidence was?”
“Photographs. But I don’t know where she hid them. That makes me think that this man knew she kept journals. Maybe she was afraid he’d read them and find the photos on his own.”
Zach handed the book back to her. “Pretty thin. Have you shown this to Hollister?”
“Not yet. I wanted to talk it through with you first. Regardless of anything else I might be feeling, I value your opinion.”
Again, there was a flicker of something in his eyes, but his face remained impassive. Kristin set her soft drink aside and took a deep breath because there was more to tell. “Zach, I think that Anna Mae’s death, the man in her attic and the fire at my shop are all connected.”
This time he reacted. His dry, skeptical look wasn’t what she wanted to see.
Kristin stood and headed for her van. “Never mind. If you’re going to act like I’m a twelve-year-old playing Nancy Drew, I’ll see Chad right now.” Her voice dropped to a mutter. “I just keep making mistake after mistake with you.”
“Wait.”
“No.” She felt him behind her, and she turned to face him as she latched onto the van’s door handle. “I just thought that you might give a damn since you seemed so grateful to Anna Mae for helping you once.”
“I do give a damn. But obviously, I haven’t given this as much thought as you have. Tell me why you think all three events are connected, and I’ll try to keep an open mind. I wasn’t in a very receptive mood when you got here.”
“You’re still not in a very receptive mood.”
“Potshots? I thought we’d declared a cease-fire.”
Kristin stilled. He was right.
“Do you want to tell me the rest of it?” Zach prompted.
“Yes.” She needed to get things straight in her head before she saw Chad.
“Do you mind if we talk by the pond? I’d like to rinse some of this sawdust off.”
“Fine.”
But beneath her squared shoulders and cool reply, she did mind. There were memories all around her, the most poignant in the whitewashed barn where they’d first made love, the most hurtful in the tall weeds behind it that led to the Wilder farm. But Gretchen was gone now, and she had to put those memories away, once and for all. Holding onto them served no useful purpose.
Zach motioned her to an old wooden bench a few feet from the water’s edge, and Kristin complied, her sandals all but disappearing in the fine, calf-high grass.
She sat stiffly as he bent to splash his face, arms and chest, trying to ignore the play of sunlight on his tanned back. Then he was beside her, combing his wet hair back with both hands.
“Okay. Why do you think all three events are related?” Water beaded on his skin, a few rivulets sliding down his taut midsection and pooling in the whorl of hair at his navel.
She glanced away. “Some of this is going to sound far-fetched.”
“Go on.”
“All right. If the man in the journals knew Anna Mae had photos linking him to a crime, he might have been searching for them in the attic the night I was there. I’m assuming that he’s already searched the rest of the house. He would’ve had ample opportunity because it was empty for weeks while Anna Mae’s will was being probated. Besides, if he got inside the night I discovered him, he certainly could have gained entry before that.” She met Zach’s grave expression. “Still with me?”
“Still with you,” he said, but it didn’t appear to please him.
“Okay. While I was tagging the items I wanted that night, I noticed that someone had made a mess of Anna Mae’s bedroom. They hadn’t trashed it, but a few of the photographs and pictures on the walls were tipped, and clothing stuck out of one of the dresser drawers. I thought the Arnetts had done it. Now…”
“Now you’re not sure.”
“Yes. That brings us to the fire at my shop. What if the intruder didn’t find the photos that night? Wouldn’t he wonder if they were hidden inside one of the pieces I’d bought? To make sure they never saw the light of day he could have—”
“—torched your shop.”
Kristin nodded.
Zach frowned at a clump of dandelions at his feet. “Okay. I don’t know a thing about criminal investigations, but I have to say that this theory of yours assumes a lot of things. Who knew you’d bought the contents of Anna Mae’s attic?”
“You, me, the Arnetts, Eli, Harlan…” She rolled her eyes. “The all-seeing, all-knowing Elyssa Spectral. A lot of people knew—customers who came into my shop, passersby the day of the delivery. This man could have easily heard about it. He could’ve even been watching Anna Mae’s house.”
Zach plucked off a few dandelion heads and tossed them, one by one onto the surface of the pond. “For the sake of argument, let’s assume that everything you’ve said is right on the money. Why didn’t the arsonist torch Anna Mae’s house, too?”
Kristin sighed. This was why she’d wanted to discuss her suspicions with him first. “I thought of that, too. The only thing I could come up with was, maybe this guy was sure the photos weren’t in the house. Chad and his men searched it twice, first during their investigation into Anna Mae’s death, then after I was pushed down the stairs.”
“But they wouldn’t have searched it in the same way.”
“That’s true. But I’m betting that the intruder did an exhaustive search. Then there’s another possibility. If Will Arnett—not Harlan—was the arsonist, he wouldn’t have burned down a home he stood to make money on.”
“I thought his mother inherited everything.”
“She did. But even though they bicker constantly, Will is probably her heir. Mildred’s a widow, and he’s her only child.” Kristin faced him again. “So? What do you think?”
Zach’s gray gaze settled on hers, and the attraction she’d been fighting quaked through her again.
“I think it’s possible.” But his expression said that there was still a lot of room for doubt.
Suddenly, something that should have occurred to her long before this hit Kristin. Energized, she pushed to her feet and started walking toward the driveway. “Thank you for listening. I have to go.”
Zach leapt to his feet, too, her sudden departure toppling his rigid demeanor. “Where?”
“To the lake. Not all of Anna Mae’s things were delivered that day. The rest are at Lakeside storage. Those snapshots could be hidden inside something that never made it to my shop.”
“Wait a minute!” Zach came after her, obviously annoyed.
“No. I need to do this right now.”
“Why?”
&n
bsp; “Because…” She faced him, tired of being stiff and cool when she felt so passionate about all of it. “Because I got to know Anna Mae when I was reading her journals, and I liked her, Zach. She was gentle and kind and went to great lengths to help anyone who needed it. She helped my mother. She helped you. She put up with dysentery and fevers and unsanitary conditions to help men and women she’d never met. If her death wasn’t an accident, I want to know who took her life. She cared about everyone—even the criminal she wrote about. It’s time someone cared about her.”
Zach studied the determination on her face for another long moment, then sighed. He didn’t completely buy the scenario she’d laid out, but if the arsonist and the intruder who’d pushed her were the same person…and that man knew that some of Anna Mae’s things were in Kristin’s storage bay…he might still be nervous about those snapshots. Then there was the debt that he, too, owed Anna Mae. She had been a wonderful woman.
“Give me a minute to put some clothes on,” he growled. “I’m going with you.”
“Why?”
“Because now you’ve got me imagining weird things, too, and I think someone should be with you in case your bogeyman shows up.”
“He can’t possibly know about my storage unit.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Then why do you want to go with me?”
Zach hesitated, not sure he wanted to examine that question too closely. “Would you rather I didn’t?”
“No. I could use some help going through the boxes.”
“Then I’ll be right out.”
Zach went inside and pulled on a shirt from the folded pile on the chair, then shoved his wallet into the back pocket of his cut-offs. She’d been a pain in the neck this morning, but she’d already toppled down a flight of stairs and someone had torched her building. There was nothing wrong with a little caution and a healthy respect for the unknown. That didn’t mean he wanted to drape her in diamonds and throw flowers at her feet. It only meant he didn’t want her to get hurt.
“Ready?” he asked, coming back out.
She nodded. “We’ll take my van and stop at the station to see Chad first.”
Zach sent her a deadpan look. “Oh, good.”
But Hollister was out when they reached the station, so Kristin jotted a short note of explanation and left the journal with Patrolman Larry McIntyre.
Now, as Zach got out of Kristin’s van and looked out over the marina, he watched white gulls squawk and wheel above Lake Edward’s greenish-blue waters. He was reminded of home, but there was no sand here, no breakers crashing, no houses on stilts. Everything around him was lush and green, trees, underbrush and grass marching all the way to the muddy shoreline.
He fell into step beside her as Kristin crossed the gravel lot beside Lakeside Self-Storage and headed for the last unit on the right. She bent low to unlock the door, then Zach pushed it up, garage-door style.
Shrieks and revving motors yanked their attention back to the marina, and they watched through the trees as someone on a Jet Ski flew across the water. Edward wasn’t as large as some other lakes, but it obviously had enough size to satisfy everyone’s needs. There was even a stately white riverboat with a huge paddle wheel moored near the slips holding smaller craft.
“Is that the riverboat they booked for the bachelor cruise?” he asked.
Kristin’s eyes clouded for a second, then she nodded and entered the bay.
It was smaller than he had expected. Or maybe it just looked that way because the center aisle was so narrow. Cartons lined both sides, and against the far wall, several large items were draped in mud-green quilts.
Zach pulled off the heavy covers and tossed them on a stack of boxes. There were chairs, an old curio cabinet, a rolltop desk, and a treadle sewing machine with a fancy wrought-iron foot pedal. A huge, bamboo birdcage sat atop two steamer trunks stacked in a corner, and a set of gaudy, black dog lamps with tasseled red shades stood on the floor beside them.
Kristin moved to his side. Her perfume in the confined area did strange things to his system. “Where do you want to start?” he asked, determined to keep this platonic. Determined to keep it the way she wanted it.
“I don’t care as long as we don’t miss anything.”
He set the birdcage aside and picked up one of the trunks. “Then let’s start with these.”
Zach carried the first one to the center of the room where the light was better, then returned for the second.
He glanced at her again as she lifted the birdcage to inspect the bottom. The interest in her eyes reminded him that the pieces here weren’t just hiding places for secrets. They were acquisitions for the new shop she hoped to build.
He cleared his throat. “I found those floor plans you sketched when you were at my place. Have you seen an architect yet?”
“Not yet,” she answered indifferently. “I want to see a check from the insurance company first. Actually,” she went on, “a man I used to date has already offered his help. I’m seeing him next Monday. He just opened an office in Lancaster.”
Adrenaline fused Zach to the spot. A man in Lancaster? An ex-lover? He stared at her for a long moment, then told himself he didn’t care and crouched to open the first trunk. He lifted out a chest that looked like a big mahogany jewelry box.
Raising the hinged lid, he saw that it was empty, then checked the double row of thin, side-by-side drawers and set it aside. He glanced at her again before he unpacked the rest—old puzzles, a few board games and a thick bundle of greeting cards, tied with binding twine.
Apparently satisfied that the birdcage held no secrets, Kristin joined him, quickly taking charge. She handed him the stack of cards. “If you’ll search through these, I’ll check the games. Okay?”
“Sure.” But he wasn’t thinking about incriminating photographs right now, dammit. He was still thinking about an architect in Lancaster who’d heard about the fire at Kristin’s shop and phoned to offer his services.
Long, bare legs drew his attention as she fanned through Monopoly money. And something primitive thudded in his blood as he remembered how soft they’d felt under his hands…how silky smooth her thighs were, all the way up to where her faint tan ended and the curve of her bottom began.
The Monopoly box hit the floor with a thwack, and she picked up another game. Then she seemed to sense him staring at her and looked up. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.” Spotting the still-bundled cards in his hands, she sighed wearily. “All right, you think this is a waste of time when you have work to do back at Etta’s. Or you’re still annoyed about this morning. Whatever. If you want, I’ll take you back to the farm.”
“That’s not it.”
“Then why are you staring at me?”
Zach shrugged and untied the cards, but underneath, his gut was knotted and his libido was hearing the call of the wild. “You just look pretty today.” He grumbled to dilute the compliment he’d been forced to give, but didn’t raise his head to gauge her reaction. “I must be getting used to your hair.”
Crickets were chirping below a rising moon when they finally sat back on those furniture covers and gave up. Some time ago, their crouched legs had begun to cramp. Zach had folded the dusty throws into a padded seat and turned on the overhead light.
“You’re disappointed,” he said.
She nodded. “I really thought we’d find those snapshots. For Anna Mae. And even for me. While we were searching, I couldn’t help thinking that if we found them, and the same man was linked to the fire at my shop, the insurance company would stop dragging their feet.”
“It’s only been eight days. Just be glad you had blanket coverage instead of a policy that requires you to list every item and its worth. It would be months before the appraisers decided what you had coming.”
“I know. I don’t mean to whine. I just need to get my life back. I need—”
She needed everyth
ing. She needed for all of this to be resolved. She needed money to rebuild. And despite the fact that she and Zach had an unspoken pact, despite the fact that it would be a large mistake, she needed to be held. They’d made love. They’d been as intimate as two people could be. Now, though they’d spoken easily while they’d searched, the distance between them felt foreign and cold. Felt wrong.
Standing, she brushed off the seat of her shorts. “Let’s go. I want to stop by the office and see if Chad’s had a chance to look at the journal.” She released a short, mirthless laugh. “He probably thinks I’m crazy, too.”
Zach carried the quilts over to drape the furniture again. “I don’t think you’re crazy. And I’d bet my eye teeth that Hollister won’t accuse you of that, either.”
“Why not? You said yourself that my theory assumed too much. I believe ‘thin’ was the word you used.”
He walked back to her. “Why not? Because a man who wants something doesn’t say things that will screw it up. And it’s pretty obvious he wants you.”
She knew that. But it would probably never happen. Even though it was the worst thing in the world for her, she wanted someone else. Kristin moved to the light switch beside the galvanized door and waited for him to exit. Then she clicked off the switch, and let Zach pull down the door and secure the padlock.
As she walked to her van, she glanced at the gritty stones underfoot, glanced up at the moths fluttering in the wash of the light poles…glanced at the trees, dark blots against the night sky.
She glanced anywhere but at him.
Chapter 12
K ristin watched as Zach entered the farmhouse, turned on a light, then closed the door behind him. Blinking rapidly, she backed out of the dark driveway.
“Be careful going home,” he’d warned. “Looks like the fog’s rolling in.”
“I will. Thanks for your help.”
“Sure. Good night.”
And that was that. There’d been no kiss, no touch, no “See you soon.” Just a polite, civilized parting that echoed how the entire day had gone. She knew it was for the best, but she couldn’t shake that hollow, empty feeling.
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