04 Once Upon a Thriller (6 page)

THE MOONLIGHT CAST THE FIGURE'S
shadow on the wall in front of me. I grabbed a ceramic frog that was perched on the sideboard and whirled around, my heart pounding. I raised the frog, ready to bash the intruder.

“Stop! Don't touch me!” the voice screamed.

Bess?

I lowered my arm. “Bess! You scared the daylights out of us!”

Bess flinched and then scowled. “You almost hit me with that—that ugly frog.”

I smiled apologetically. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly, glancing at the painted ceramic figurine. “I thought you were an intruder.”

“I did too,” George added.

Bess glared at us both. “Well, you two are the ones who are out of bed in the middle of the night,” she said accusingly. “I heard the floorboards creaking and both of your beds were empty, so I didn't know what was going on. What's up?”

“George and I heard something outside the cabin,” I explained, leaning over and flicking on the light switch. “We wanted to check it out.”

George nodded. “And then we saw a shadow on the front porch. We were about to call the police when you came up behind us.”

“Well, let's call, then. It's possible the intruder is still around.” Bess shuddered. “I still don't know why anyone around here is interested in us.”

She picked up the phone and dialed 911.

About ten minutes later, Sheriff Garrison appeared at our front door.

“What seems to be the problem, ladies?” he asked. “I didn't expect to see the three of you again so soon.”

George said, “We heard a noise outside the cabin. Then we saw a shadow flit across the porch. We thought someone might be trying to break in.”

The sheriff looked concerned. “I'm glad you notified us,” he replied. “This is the third call we've received tonight from the cabins around Moon Lake. It seems there have been a few sightings.”

Bess, George, and I exchanged a look. First a fire, then a theft, our almost drowning, and now three calls to the police in one night? Was that also a plot from one of Lacey's books?

The sheriff's walkie-talkie crackled.

“Unit One, come in.”

The sheriff pulled the handset off his belt and replied, “Sheriff Garrison here.”

“We're sending the chopper over Moon Lake. Looking for a perp in the southeast quadrant.”

“Copy that,” the sheriff replied. He turned back to us. “You ladies okay? We're sending the helicopter out over the lake, so if there's anyone still out there, he or she should flee quickly or be caught in the floodlights. In the meantime, lock all the windows and doors and turn on any lights around the outside perimeter of the cabin. I doubt the perp will come back this way, but if you see or hear anything suspicious, just give me a call.”

He handed me a card. “This is my cell number. Feel free to call me directly and I'll send someone out ASAP.”

“Thanks a lot, Sheriff,” Bess replied as she held the door open for him. “And sorry to bother you twice in two days. At least we weren't annoying anyone this time.” She smiled.

“No bother,” he replied. “That's what I'm here for.”

Once the sheriff had gone and we had double-checked to be sure all the doors and windows were locked, we returned to the bedroom and climbed back into our beds.

“Whew,” Bess said as she slipped under the covers. “I feel like these two days have been like a roller coaster.”

“I know,” I said as I lay back against the pillows. “I'm really sorry this visit to Moon Lake hasn't been restful.”

I closed my eyes and mulled things over for a few minutes. Could the would-be intruder be connected to the fire and the art gallery theft? I had to check the plots of some of Lacey O'Brien's books to find out if an intruder in the woods was a character who appeared in any of her stories.

I opened my eyes to see that Bess and George were both asleep. I quietly slipped out of bed, grabbed my laptop from my bag, and tiptoed into the living room. Once my computer was running, I did a search on Lacey O'Brien's books. Up came
Framed
,
Drowned
,
Consumed
,
Shadowed
,
Snatched
,
Dragged
,
Ditched
,
Stalked
,
Nabbed
, and
Burned
, with plot summaries of each novel.

I read through the summaries, and my breath caught when I got to
Shadowed
. Lucy Luckstone is the protagonist again, and this time she's spending a week on vacation in a rented cabin on a lake. On the first day of her trip, her wallet is stolen, and for the rest of the week, she feels as though she's being followed. Then one night someone tries to break into her cabin. It turns out she has a doppelgänger who's trying to steal her identity.

My skin prickled. It was as if I was reliving the book. How could that be?

Had I really left my wallet at the Cheshire Cat Inn, or had someone—Alice Ann?—lifted it from my purse and then returned it to me after finding out my background?

I dug through my bag and grabbed my wallet, popping it open to check its contents. My credit card, ID, and cash were still inside. I laughed nervously. Of course Alice Ann hadn't stolen my wallet—she was the one who had brought up my missing wallet when Bess, George, and I returned to the inn, not the other way around. But just because everything was accounted for didn't mean Alice Ann—or anyone, really—hadn't looked through my wallet.

Now I was really being paranoid. But I couldn't help feeling that I had become the copycat criminal's target.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me. My head hurt from thinking too much about all the different possibilities. I had to get some sleep or I'd never be alert enough to track down the owners of the bookstore and art gallery, and possibly Lacey O'Brien the next morning. With heavy eyelids, I headed back to bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning we were all awake bright and early. George and Bess were packing up to return to River Heights. Meanwhile, I would stay here in Avondale and try to interview as many possible suspects as I could.

I decided to leave our rental cabin on the lake, which, without Bess and George, would be too isolated for me to stay in alone. I thought I'd stay in town at the Cheshire Cat. I'd be able to keep my eye on Alice Ann and anything else that happened.

“Nice to see you again, Nancy,” said Alice Ann as she checked me in. “So glad you decided to stay here after all. I think Two-B would be perfect for you. Just up the staircase, second door on your right.”

Two-B was decorated with everything related to famous writers, from Edgar Allan Poe to Emily Dickinson. A bust of William Shakespeare sat on the night table, and a framed needlepoint of the Robert Frost quote, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by,” hung on the wall above the bed.

There was even an old typewriter on a desk in front of the windows. I looked for a memento of Lacey O'Brien, but there was nothing honoring her in the room. That would be odd, if I didn't already know Alice Ann's true feelings about her.

I headed to Paige's Pages bookstore first. It was still closed, of course, but I was hoping Paige might be around cleaning up after the fire. The store was locked up tightly, though, and there was still police crime-scene tape across the front door.

I headed around to the back of the store, where a woman with dark, graying hair in a messy bun was loading large trash bags into a white pickup truck. I recognized her immediately as the woman from the grocery store—Paige.

I cleared my throat softly and she whirled around, clutching her chest.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You scared me. Can I help you?”

“My name is Nancy Drew, and I'm on assignment for the
River Heights Bugle
,” I introduced myself, holding out my hand. “Are you the owner of the bookstore?”

She studied me carefully, taking in my notebook, sunglasses, and reddish-blond hair.

“Have I met you before?” she asked, genuinely perplexed. “Have you been to my store?”

I figured she might recognize me from the grocery store, and it seemed like the best thing to do was just fess up.

“I think our paths crossed at the grocery store on Saturday,” I admitted. “You dropped a slip of paper and I handed it back to you.”

She smiled.

“Oh, yes, of course,” she replied. “Thank you for that. And I apologize if I was abrupt. I was a bit out of sorts that day, with the fire and everything. I still am today, I'm afraid. I didn't sleep much last night.”

She wiped her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand, and I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. Then she said, “I know the investigators said it may be arson, but who would do such a thing? We're a quiet town, with law-abiding citizens. This is quite disturbing.”

I thought back to my busy night and didn't blame her for not being able to sleep much, given what she had been through.

She took my hand and shook it firmly. “I'm Paige Samuels,” she said.

“I realize it must be difficult, but I'd like to speak with you for a few minutes about the fire,” I explained. “I'm doing a story about a few crimes that have taken place around town over the last few days.”

“A few crimes?” she asked, her eyebrows raised. “I didn't know there were others.”

I nodded. “There was a theft in town Saturday as well, and sightings of an intruder near Moon Lake last night. I think the crimes may be related. Do you have a minute to talk?”

Paige nodded. “Let me just put this last bag of trash in the back of my truck and then we can grab a coffee at the diner. The firefighters let me bag up some debris on Saturday before they began their investigation. I figure there's still plenty more to do inside the store, but for now, I may as well clear away as much of this trash as I can.”

“No problem,” I said. “Should I meet you there in about fifteen minutes?”

Paige nodded. “Sure, that works.”

I got back in my car, drove up the street, and parked in the lot across from the Avondale Diner. Standing on the curb, I quickly glanced to the left and right before stepping into the crosswalk.

Suddenly a black car raced around the corner, tires squealing, heading straight for me!

THE CAR SWERVED TO THE
left just as I jumped to the right, landing in a planter full of impatiens. The flowers managed to cushion most of my fall, though my right thigh was somewhat scraped and bruised from where it hit the edge of the planter.

Slowly I stood up, and as I brushed myself off, I saw that the black car had screeched to a stop and pulled over to the curb ahead. A man and a woman got out and approached me hurriedly. The woman was tiny and wore an oversize hat and sunglasses. The man, in a dark, ill-fitting suit, was extremely tall. Both were pale and looked completely shocked at having come so close to hitting me. The woman grabbed both of my hands and looked me straight in the eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked a bit hysterically, her voice rising in pitch at the end of the question.

I nodded. I was a bit shaky, but I was otherwise fine. I hadn't even torn or dirtied my shorts, despite the scrape on my thigh.
Wait until Bess and George hear about my latest brush with death,
I thought.
They'll never believe it happened in Avondale.

The woman turned to the man and poked him in the arm, hard.

“I told you to slow down, Rick,” she shrieked, almost in tears. “You almost ran this woman over. You could have killed her!”

“I know, I know,” he lamented, wringing his hands.

He turned to me. “Words cannot express how sorry I am, and how thankful I am that you're okay,” he said genuinely.

“It's all right,” I replied, giving them both what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I'm fine, really. It was clearly an accident.”

“Do you need us to call an ambulance or the police?” he asked.

“No need for that,” a loud voice replied from behind me. “The police are already here.”

I turned to see Ian and Sheriff Garrison heading toward us.

Oh no,
I thought. Not another encounter with the Avondale police! This was getting a bit absurd.

Sheriff Garrison interviewed the couple and me and took down a full report, while Ian tended to my leg using a first aid kit that looked like it was at least ten years old.

“Are you sure that adhesive is still sticky?” I joked as he placed some gauze over the scrape.

“Are you kidding?” he replied. “They don't make this stuff like they used to. I'll bet this will still be stuck to your leg a year from now.”

Once Ian was done patching me up and Sheriff Garrison had completed his report, I assured everyone for the tenth time that I was just fine. Then the woman reached into her purse with shaking hands and pulled out a small notebook. She wrote down a phone number and address, tore the sheet out, and handed it to me.