Hide in Plain Sight (4 page)

“Uncle Nick confirmed what you said.” She bit off the words, resenting the fact that he’d known what she should have.

“Sorry. I wish I’d been wrong.” His voice had just the right degree of sympathy.

Some of her resentment ebbed away. This wasn’t his fault. “I can’t grasp it. When I was small, I thought my grandfather was the wisest, kindest man in the world.”

Her opinion about the kindness had changed when Grandfather let them go without a word, writing them out of his life except for the college funds he’d provided. Surely he could have mended the quarrel with Mom if he’d really cared about them. But even so, she’d never doubted his business acumen.

“You can still have good memories of him.” His tone warmed.

She could only nod, her throat choking up. She would like to remember Grandfather as she’d once seen him, without thinking about how he’d let her and her sisters down. Or how he’d apparently failed Grams.

“Why didn’t my grandmother tell me? I would have helped.”

She could feel his gaze on her face. “Maybe it doesn’t matter why. Now that you know, you’ll do the right thing.”

He sounded like an echo of Uncle Nick, except that they didn’t agree about what that right thing was.

“Uncle Nick told me he’s been worried about Grams. He said there have been problems with antique thieves.
That prowler you mentioned—” She came to a stop, frowning at him.

He stopped, too, leaning an elbow on top of the stone wall that surrounded the church across the street from Grams’s house. “Could be connected, I suppose.”

“Nick said they hit isolated farmhouses. Grams’s place is right on the edge of the village.”

“It’s also big, concealed by plenty of trees and outbuildings, and for the most part has had only one elderly woman in residence. There aren’t any houses to the east, and in the back, the farms are too far away for troublemakers to be spotted.” His frown deepened as he looked across the road toward the house.

She shivered a little at the thought. He was right—the mansion was isolated in spite of the fact that it fronted on the main road. Crossings Road, where Rachel had been injured, snaked along one side, leading toward distant farms and making it easy for someone to approach from the back. “Surely no one would try to break into the house.”

“They wouldn’t have to. The outbuildings are crammed to the roof with stuff. Furniture, mostly. And that’s not including the attics of the house itself. No one knows what’s there.”

“You mean there’s no inventory?”

His lips twisted in a wry smile. “I’m sure you’d have a tidy inventory, with the approximate value listed for every item.”

“Of course I would.” Her voice was tart. He didn’t need to act as if efficiency were a sin. “For insurance purposes, if nothing else.”

“That’s how your mind works, but not your grandmother’s.”

“I suppose not.” Her grandmother was an odd mixture—clever about people, but naive about business, which had been her husband’s prerogative. “You’re trying to give me nightmares, aren’t you?”

He gave a rueful smile and shoved away from the wall. “Sorry about that.” He touched her hand in a brief gesture of sympathy. Warmth shimmered across her skin and was gone. “I figured I shouldn’t be the only one.”

Andrea was still wrestling with the difficulties when she went up to her room that evening, hoping to concentrate on some work. A half-dozen times she’d nearly confronted Grams about the financial situation, but each time a look at her grandmother stopped her. Grams looked so tired. So old.

She’d never thought of her grandmother as needing someone to take care of her. Now she’d have to, even though she suspected Grams wouldn’t take kindly to any suggestion that she couldn’t manage her own affairs.

Well, she’d let the topic ride until tomorrow, at least. Maybe by then she’d have come up with some tactful way of approaching the subject and Grams would, she hoped, have had a decent night’s sleep.

She opened her laptop. In an instant she was completely engrossed in work.

Finally the numbers began to blur on the screen. She got up, stretching, and walked to the window. Full dark
had settled in, and her attention had been so focused on the computer screen that she hadn’t even noticed. Maybe she’d been trying to shut out the human problems that she found so much more difficult to deal with than figures.

Her eyes gradually grew accustomed to the darkness. She could make out the pond now, the forsythia bushes along it, and the pale line that was the flagstone path.

She stiffened. There—by the toolshed. That wasn’t a bush—it was a person. She froze, watching the faint gleam of a shielded light cross the door of the shed.

He was breaking in. She whirled, racing out of the room and across the hall to burst in on her grandmother, who sat up in bed with a Bible on her lap. Barney jumped up, ears pricking.

“Andrea, what—”

“There’s someone prowling around by the toolshed. Call the police and alert Cal. I’m going to turn the outside lights on.”

She could hear Grams protesting as she bolted down the stairs, the dog at her heels.

A
ndrea reached the back door and slapped the switch that controlled the outside lights. They sprang up instantly, bathing the area with soft illumination. The yellow glow was probably intentional on Rachel’s part. It fit well with the style of the two-and-a-half-century-old building, but at the moment, Andrea would rather have harsh fluorescents that lit up every shadowy corner.

She peered through the glass pane in the door, shivering a little. The dog, pressing against her leg, trembled, too, probably eager to get outside and chase whatever lay in the shadows.

The flowers were mere shapes that moved restlessly in the breeze, as if they sensed something wrong. She strained to see beyond the patio. There was the pale outline of the pond, and beyond it nothing but angular shadows.

She heard a step at the top of the stairs behind her.

“I tried Cal, but there was no answer. Perhaps it’s him you saw outside.”

If so, she was going to feel like an idiot for overreacting. “Does he usually look around the grounds at
night?” He’d mentioned looking for the prowler, and after their conversation, that seemed likely. The tension eased.

“Sometimes. But I called the police anyway. Now, don’t start worrying about it.” Grams seemed to be reading her mind. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

But she couldn’t help the chagrin she felt. City-dweller, jumping to conclusions at the slightest thing.

Well, if so, Cal was the one who’d spooked her, with his talk of prowlers and thieves. He and Uncle Nick had done the job between them.

A heavy flashlight hung on the hook next to the back door, just where Grandfather had always kept one. Clutching the collar of the excited dog, she opened the door, then reached up and took the flashlight.

“Andrea, don’t go out,” Grams said. “I’m sure it’s fine, but wait for the police. Or Cal. He’ll come to the house when he sees all the lights on.”

Obviously Grams wasn’t worried. A little embarrassing, to have her elderly grandmother reassuring her.

“I’ll just step outside and flash the light around. See if I can spot Cal. Or anyone.”

The dog surged forward, tail waving, apparently welcoming this change in his usual routine. Did the waving tail indicate he sensed a friend?

She edged down the two steps to the patio, lifting the flashlight to probe the shadows beyond the pond. Even as she did, the wail of sirens pierced the night.

She must have relaxed her grip at the sound, because Barney pulled free and darted off toward the lane, letting out an excited bark. Turning, she caught a
glimpse of what might be a dark figure. Her heart jolted. She swung the light toward it, but the beam didn’t reach far enough to show her anything suspicious.

The dog barked again, a high, excited yip.

If it had been an intruder, he’d be thoroughly scared away by the dog, the lights and the sirens. The lane led to the road—if he went that way, he might run straight into the arms of the police, although he’d hardly be so foolish.

She swung the light back toward the shed where she’d first glimpsed the figure. Everything was still. Reassured by the wail of the police car as it turned in the drive, she crossed the patio, flashing the light around. Nothing seemed to be disturbed.

Cal had said the outbuildings were stuffed to the rafters with furniture. She focused the flashlight on the toolshed. Nothing moved now. The shed was a dark rectangle, with a darker rectangle for the door.

She frowned, trying to pick out details in the shaft of light. Memory provided her with an image of the door as she’d seen it earlier, and tension trailed along her nerves. There had been a padlock on the door. If it was open, someone had been breaking in.

She glanced toward the house. Grams stood in the lighted doorway, peering out.

“Grams, I’m going to check the toolshed. Please don’t come out.”

“Be careful.” Grams sounded a little shaky.

“I will. But if anyone was here, he’s long gone by now.” She called the words back over her shoulder, moving toward the shed. If something had been stolen on her second night here, she was going to feel responsible.

A mental list began to take shape. Get better outdoor lighting, whether it enhanced the ambience or not. Ask the police to make a regular swing by the property. New locks on any building that held something of value. If what Cal had said was right, that could be any of the half-dozen or more outbuildings.

Every building should be properly inventoried. If it hadn’t been done when her grandfather died, it should be done as soon as possible.

Grams and Rachel hadn’t thought of that—their minds didn’t work that way, as Cal had pointed out. Hers did. He hadn’t intended a compliment, but she considered her organizational skills an asset. If her mother had been a bit more meticulous, maybe they wouldn’t have spent so much time evading the bill collectors.

She shook that thought off, because remembering those days gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach and an inclination to check her bank balance, just to be sure she was all right.

Hardly surprising. Other children’s bogeymen had been monsters and snakes. Hers had been collection agencies.

“Barney! Come, Barney.” Her grandmother’s voice fluted over the dark garden.

She glanced back the way she’d come to see the dog’s pale coat as he bounded toward Grams. Apparently Barney hadn’t been in time to take a piece out of their intruder.

Ahead of her, the entrance to the toolshed yawned open, sending a faint shiver of fear across her skin. She hadn’t been imagining things. Someone had been here.

A few steps took her to the shed door. With a vague thought of fingerprints, she didn’t touch it. She’d shine the light inside, that’s all. There was no way of knowing if anything was missing, but at least she could see if it looked disturbed. And get an idea of what she had to deal with.

She leaned forward, light piercing the darkness, giving her a jumbled view of wooden pieces—straight chairs, tables, shelves, even an old icebox, jammed on top of each other…

A quick impression of movement, a dark figure. She couldn’t react, couldn’t even scream as a hand shot out, shoving her into the toolshed.

She barreled into the edge of a table, cracking her head on something above it. Stars showered through the darkness. She stumbled, hitting the floor just as the door banged shut.

For an instant dizziness engulfed her, followed by a wave of sheer, uncontrollable panic. She was shut in, she was alone in the dark—

She bolted to her feet, grabbed at the door, fumbling for a handle, a latch. “Let me out!”

Shout, don’t cry, don’t let yourself cry or the panic will take over.

“Help! Help me!”

The door jerked open, and she hurtled out. She caught back a sob, her hands closing on the soft fabric of a shirt and solid muscle. She knew him by instinct before she could see him.

“Cal—there was someone here. Did you see him?”

He pulled her clear of the door and slammed it shut. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” They’d had this exchange before, hadn’t they? “I’m fine. Did you see him?”

“I saw him.” He sounded grim. “Not enough to describe him, unfortunately. You?”

She shook her head. “Just a blur of movement when he pushed me into the shed. I’m sorry.”

He grunted, a frustrated sound. “I was following him. If you hadn’t sounded the alarm, I might have caught him.”

Cal shook his head in response to Katherine’s repeated offer of another cup of chamomile tea. “No, thanks, I’ve had plenty.” One cup of the pale brew was surely enough to satisfy the demands of politeness.

“I think that’s everything we need.” The young township cop sat awkwardly at the kitchen table, looking half-afraid to touch the delicate Haviland cup and saucer that sat in front of him.

“Do you think you’ll catch the thief?” Katherine was as much at ease in her kitchen, wearing a fuzzy red bathrobe, as if she sat in the parlor.

“That might be too much to expect, Grams.” Andrea spoke before the cop could come up with an answer. “None of us actually saw the man, and he didn’t take anything, as far as we know.”

While the cop’s attitude toward Katherine was one of respect bordering on awe, the glance he turned on Andrea was simply admiration.

Cal understood. Even casual and disheveled, wearing jeans and a loose blue shirt, Andrea was cool and elegant.

And frosty, when she looked at him. Apparently his
comment about her interfering with his pursuit of the intruder still rankled.

“I’d best be on my way, ma’am.” The cop rose, settling his uniform cap over a thatch of straw-colored hair as he headed for the back door. “We’ll do the best we can to keep an eye on the place.”

“Thank you, Officer.” Katherine was graciousness itself. “We appreciate that.”

Once the door closed behind him, Cal shook his head. “That won’t be often enough. The township cops have too much territory to cover and too few men. What you need out there is better lighting.”

“That’s just what I was thinking.” Once again Andrea looked faintly surprised to find herself agreeing with him. “I’ll call about it in the morning.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. If we leave on the lights we have, that should suffice.” Katherine set a cup and saucer in the sink, the china chattering against itself, betraying her emotion.

“I can install them,” he said, knowing she was probably worrying about the cost, “if Andrea gets the fixtures.”

Andrea nodded. “Of course.” Her gaze crossed his, and he knew they were thinking the same thing. “It’ll be my contribution to the renovations.”

“I don’t want you to spend your money on this.” Katherine’s eyes darkened with distress. “After all, you didn’t think the inn was a good idea.”

She probably still didn’t, but she managed a smile. “I have to take part. The sign does say The Three Sisters Inn, after all.” She put her arm around her grand
mother’s waist and urged her toward the stairs. “You go up to bed, Grams. I’ll just talk to Cal about the lights, and then I’ll see him out.”

“Thank you, dear.” Katherine patted her cheek, and then came over to touch him lightly on the shoulder. “And you, Cal. I don’t know what we’d have done without you tonight.”

“No problem,” he said easily. “Have a good night’s sleep.”

She nodded. “Come, Barney.” The dog padded obediently after her. “That’s my good, brave dog,” she crooned, starting up the stairs. “You were so clever to chase the bad man away.”

He waited until he heard her door close to shake his head. “I’ve never been overly impressed with Barney’s intelligence, and tonight confirmed that. He ran to me, recognizing a friend, instead of chasing the prowler.”

Andrea frowned. “Even if he’s not the brightest dog in the world, you’d think he’d go after a stranger.”

That thought had occurred to him, too, but he didn’t see anything to be gained by pursuing it now. If this was the same person who’d broken into several farmhouses, he could be someone local, even someone who’d been to the house before.

She sat down across from him, apparently willing to forget her annoyance in the need to talk with someone. “Do you think he was planning to steal something tonight, or just checking things out for a future visit?”

“I’m not sure.” He balanced the silver teaspoon on his finger. Silver, good china, antiques—there was plenty here to tempt a thief. “He may have wanted to
see where the best stuff was. I would expect him to come with a truck of some sort if he planned to haul away any antiques. Pennsylvania German pieces tend to be pretty hefty, to say the least.”

“I suppose you’re right. He did break the lock, though.”

“Meaning he wouldn’t have done that unless he planned to take something? I’m not sure you’re right. He couldn’t know what was there unless he got in to have a look around.”

“I guess.” She ran her hands through the silky strands of blond hair in a gesture of frustration. “I don’t even know what’s in the shed. How could they get away without a proper inventory when my grandfather died?” She sounded slightly outraged, as if lack of the right paperwork was a moral failing.

“Maybe that’s a good job for you.” It would keep her busy, anyway.

“I can’t imagine how long that would take. More time than I have, at any rate. But I’ll call a locksmith and have decent locks put on all those buildings.”

A slight feeling of sympathy surprised him. Andrea was trying to do the right thing for her grandmother, even if she didn’t agree with her decisions.

“I can put new locks on. We’ll get them when we go for the light fixtures tomorrow.”

“We?” Her eyebrows lifted.

“We. Unless you’re well-informed as to the best type of light fixtures and locks to use.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he could almost see her trying to pigeonhole him. “I thought you were a carpenter, not a handyman.”

“I know a little about a lot of useful things.”

“In that case, I’m surprised you didn’t offer to do the lights and the locks before,” she said tartly. “Since you were so quick to warn me about the danger.”

“I did. Numerous times.” He rose, carrying his cup and saucer to the sink. “Katherine always turned me down. She held tightly to the illusion that this place was still safe. After tonight, I don’t think that’s an issue, sadly. She’ll let us do it.”

“You really don’t need to help.” Andrea’s chair scraped as she shoved it in, the only sound in the room other than the ticktock of the ornate Black Forest mantel clock. “I’m sure my grandmother appreciates your offer, but I can hire someone. I’ll pay—”

He swung around, annoyed that she thought this was about money. “I said I’d do it.”

“It’s my responsibility.” That stubborn jaw was very much in evidence. “Why should you be involved?”

“Because I live here, too. Because your grandmother and your sister have both been kind to me.”

Because they can accept me as I am, without needing a dossier on my past.

Her hands moved, palms up, in a gesture of surrender. “All right, then. If you feel that way about it, I guess we’d better head out to the hardware store tomorrow.”