by Cat Johnson
Cash nodded. “All right.”
At the same time Boone said, “Cool.”
I grinned wider. That was my girl. Full of surprises. And then I realized the biggest surprise of the night wasn’t that she could shoot, but that I’d just thought of her as my girl.
That was something to worry about later because Cash and Boone were still here when I’d rather they be gone.
But of course they’d want to stay and talk about this craziness. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Talking might help. This guy had been in the house alone with her. Harper had to be spooked. I know I sure as fuck was.
She might say she was fine. She might be babbling away like she was fine, but the fact she still clutched that gun in a white knuckled grip said otherwise.
Harper turned to me. “What was he doing up there?”
Yeah, she looked as freaked out as she was angry, but she did walk to the corner and lean the double barrel there.
I moved to the shotgun’s precarious position and grabbed it. I laid it across the desk in the hall where it was less likely to fall down as I answered her, “He was going through Rose’s diaries when I found him.”
“Why?” She frowned and shook her head.
“That’s a good question,” I replied.
“You have no idea?” Boone asked Harper, then turned to me.
“Nope.” I shook my head.
“Me either.” Harper folded her arms over her chest.
I did my best to wrestle my gaze off the resulting overflow of cleavage her move caused.
When I saw Boone and Cash’s gazes drop to her chest I slapped them both hard on the arm.
Boone cringed at being caught. Cash just grinned.
Luckily Harper was too busy worrying about figuring out the mystery to notice.
“I can tell you one thing, though. I’m gonna find out,” she said.
I believed she’d actually do it too. The problem was, maybe the rumors about those journals were true. Maybe they did contain all of this town’s most sordid secrets.
Which left me wondering, whatever was in them, whatever Joe was after, did we really want to know?
From the Journal of Rose Van de Berg
MUDVILLE INQUISITOR
1957
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TWENTY-ONE
Harper
Stone closed the door behind his two brothers and turned to me.
“Thought they’d never leave,” he joked as he took a step closer.
I forced a smile. The fact this hot man was standing in front of me and I felt no urge whatsoever to tear his clothes off was evidence of what kind of night I’d had.
He took another step forward and dipped his head lower to catch my gaze. “You all right?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I swallowed, realizing how dry my mouth was.
Stone drew in a deep breath and shook his head. “No, you’re not.”
His body language screamed anger, from how he pressed his lips tightly together to how he broke eye contact with me to stare blindly, absently, at the corner of the room. As if he were playing out in his head the fantasy of killing my intruder with his bare hands.
I reached out and touched his arm. “Stone, really. I’m okay.”
It felt like I needed Stone to believe that or we’d all regret it. He had acres of land and probably a bunch of tractors with which to bury a body.
Maybe it was my writer’s imagination working overtime but he was obviously the protective type. Who knew what he was capable of when it came to protecting someone important to him.
I kind of liked that caveman side and truth be told I was enjoying being the recipient of his protection, but not if it resulted in bodily harm to Joe, even if he had broken in and scared the hell out of me.
Stone watched me, as if evaluating my answer.
I thought I was in the clear, having convinced him things were good, until he shook his head. “Nope. I don’t want you in this house alone tonight.”
“Why not?” I laughed. “The sheriff has the guy. I doubt there are two people in Mudville who are desperate to rob Agnes’s attic on the same night.”
A sudden loud knock at the front door made me jump and also ended further debate with Stone when I turned to see Red peering through the glass at me.
Might as well put on the teakettle and break out some of Bethany’s cookies. It seemed I was bound to have company tonight. No sleep, but lots of companionship.
I wrestled with the lock and pulled the door open for her. “Hi.”
“Oh my God, is everything all right? I saw all the trucks parked here and the sheriff’s car and got nervous.”
I let out a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve had more company tonight than I’ve had in the week since I moved in. But everything’s fine.”
Stone folded his arms across his chest. “Not exactly fine. There was an intruder in the attic while Harper was sleeping in the bedroom.”
“Holy crap.” Red’s pale blue eyes grew wide. “You said you heard noises and I told you it was just the old house creaking. I should have believed you. You could have been killed and it would have been all my fault.”
“No, really, you were right. There was normal old house creaking all week. Tonight’s noises sounded different than before. I ignored them because I thought it was the cats. One of them came in to sleep with me.”
Red’s expression morphed from looking horrified at my near miss with death to cute and squishy. “Aww, the cats finally came around. That’s so nice. I know you really wanted them to come in.”
“I really did. It was nice,” I agreed.
Stone’s huff had me glancing his way to see his scowl. “I’m still not happy about you sleeping here alone tonight.”
If we kept talking he wouldn’t have to worry. I wouldn’t be sleeping at all. It would be morning in a few hours.
“I’m f—”
“Fine. I know. You keep saying that. Maybe I’m the one who’s not fine. Okay?” He pinned me with a stare from beneath lowered brows.
I caught Red’s smile out of the corner of my eye. If she hadn’t suspected that Stone and my relationship had changed before, she must now.
“How about I spend the night here so Stone’s not worried? Girls’ sleepover. Harper, me and the barn cats. Heck, we’ll invite Petunia too.”
“Would she really come inside?” I spun to ask Red.
“Agnes brings her inside. Honestly, I think she’ll go anywhere there’s food.”
“And of course you can stay over,” I said. “It’ll be fun. I’ll make us a frittata for breakfast.”
“No, don’t go to any bother for me. A cup of coffee in the morning and I’m good.”
I waved away Red’s concern. “It’s no bother at all. I’m up to five dozen eggs in the fridge so I’ve got to do something.”
Stone watched the conversation ping pong back and forth and finally raised his palms in surrender. “Okay, I see you two are good here. I’m going to go.”
I couldn’t help but smile. He was so damn sweet. How had I ever thought otherwise? I took a step toward him. “Thanks for everything tonight.”
“It was no problem at all.” His reply felt heavily loaded, as if he was remembering everything, not just the parts I was thanking him for.
I wasn’t sure if his smile looked mischievous to Red too or just to me because I knew all that had happened between us tonight.
“All right. So goodnight.” He moved toward the door.
I followed and opened the front door for him. “Good night, Stone.”
“Good night, Stone,” Red said overly sweetly behind me.
He shot an amused glance over his shoulder then he was gone, heading toward his truck parked along the curb across the street.
The door was barely closed and not quite locked when Red said, “Oh my God, something happened between you two. Tell me
absolutely everything.”
I turned back to her. There was a lot to tell. “This might require I open a bottle of wine.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes!”
I laughed. I could sleep late tomorrow. One of the benefits of being self-employed was that I set my own hours.
As it turned out, Red and I didn’t sleep late in the morning. I was used to waking early, no matter what time I fell to sleep, and she had to get to the store to open for the day. So we had coffee and a six-egg frittata for breakfast, then she was off and I was left to my own devices.
I could have gotten right to work. Make that I should have gotten to work, but there was something nagging at me that wouldn’t let my mind settle.
I’d never be able to concentrate on the book until I knew why. Why did that man break into Agnes’s attic and what did he want with Rose’s diaries?
Since Rose’s journals were the basis for my story, maybe I could count this as book research, which would make it qualify as work.
I liked that idea. Liked it enough that I got dressed—in real going-outside-in-public clothes—and after a quick online search to find out where I was going, I headed for the sheriff’s department.
When I arrived, the deputy who’d been at the house last night was no longer on duty.
That was fine with me since he’d been replaced by a handsome guy who looked so good in his uniform it made me wonder why I’d never written a deputy hero before.
“Um, hi. I was wondering if you could help me?” My gaze dropped to his name. “Officer Bekker.”
“Deputy Bekker. But most people just call me Carson.” He smiled. “What can I help you with?”
“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve been briefed on the calls from last night, but I’m Harper Low—insky.” I almost delivered my penname and had to shift gears quick and remember that for the official sheriff’s report I’d be Harper Lowinsky, not Lowry. “There was an intruder in the house where I’m staying on Main Street.”
He nodded. “Agnes’s place. Yeah, I heard. It’s a small town, Miss Lowinsky.”
So I’d discovered.
“Yes, well I was wondering if you still had the, uh, alleged perpetrator in custody?” I’d written a character who was a lawyer so I was pretty confident I had the lingo correct, in spite of his frown.
“I’m sorry. No. Joe was released on his own recognizance pending charges. Deputy Callahan didn’t anticipate that being a problem.”
“No, it’s okay. I just . . . actually, I wanted to talk to him.”
“To Callahan?”
“No, to Joe.”
Carson drew his brows low. “Um, all right.”
“Do you know where I can find him?” I asked in spite of him looking at me like I was a nut.
“I would think he’d be at his mother’s place. It’s the blue house next to the pharmacy on Main Street.”
The burglar lived a quarter of a mile away from me? Small town life definitely had its good points and its bad points. But I knew one thing. I was going over there.
I needed an answer to my question. Why had he gone to all that trouble to get his hands on those journals?
“All right.” I nodded. “Thank you very much for your help.”
“Um, Miss Lowinsky—”
“Call me Harper, please.”
“Harper. You’re not going over there to hurt him or anything, are you?”
I laughed. “No. Why would you think that?”
“Well, I heard your boyfriend was close to wringing Joe’s neck last night. Is your intention to do Joe harm?”
My boyfriend? I nearly choked.
Was Stone my boyfriend? And did it matter if he was or wasn’t if all of Mudville believed he was?
I decided the safest thing to do was ignore that part of the deputy’s statement and answer the question. “Uh, no, deputy. I’m not going to hurt him. I just want to ask him a question.”
“Okay. I guess you’re entitled to that.”
“Thank you for the information.” I turned to go, then turned back. Apparently I was incapable of letting anything go. “Who told you Stone was my boyfriend?”
Carson grinned. “Boone. Saw him at the bakery this morning.”
Stone’s brother thought we were dating.
This time I really was without words as the questions spun through my brain.
All I managed to do was tip my head to the deputy and get out the door without walking through the glass.
From the Journal of Rose Van de Berg
MUDVILLE INQUISITOR
1959
All telephones in Mudville will be switched to a direct dial system.
TWENTY-TWO
Stone
“You build that cider stand yet?” my father asked.
Shit. The truth was that in all the excitement suddenly happening in Mudville, most of it thanks to Harper, I’d forgotten all about the damn thing.
“Gonna do it today,” I said. That wasn’t a lie. Now that he’d reminded me I would at least start it today.
“Gotta be done for the Fall Fest,” he reminded me unnecessarily.
“Yup. I know.”
Finally looking satisfied that I was going to handle the cider booth, my father left me alone. Probably to go check on Cash and Boone and their list of Fall Fest tasks. We were all doing our normal work on top of the other added stuff to get ready for this festival.
The Mudville tradition had taken place on Main Street for the past fifty years but for some reason it was moving here to our farm this year. I wasn’t sure whose bright idea that had been initially, but Dad was all over it.
All I knew was it was going to increase my workload considerably. Right when I wished I had more free time, not less, to pursue other interests.
One of those interests was making sure that Red wasn’t the only one having sleepovers with Harper this week. I wanted to get in on my share of those too.
For right now, it was most important to make sure Harper was all right after last night.
I’d have to go to the lumberyard to pick up the stuff I’d need to build the booth. I could stop by and see Harper on my way there and satisfy myself that she was really fine.
It was a good plan, until I pulled into Agnes’s drive and saw Harper’s car was gone. For a woman who’d rarely left the house in the week I’d known her, and the few times she’d gone somewhere she’d walked, that her car wasn’t here was odd. And concerning.
I pulled out my phone and hit to call her number.
“Hello.”
Worry had me forgoing niceties. “Where are you?” I asked.
“Um . . . I’m just about to leave the police station. Or sheriff’s station. Or whatever it’s called.”
“Callahan ask you to come in to fill out a report?” I asked.
“Um . . . no.”
Her hesitation in answering questions that really weren’t hard had my eyes narrowing. “Harper. What are you up to?”
“I need to know why he did it,” she rushed to say.
I sighed. I knew it. She was playing private investigator, just like I feared she’d do. “Harper—”
“I know! I’m like a bull dog with a bone and I can never let anything rest. I’ve heard it all before, but I can’t help it. It will kill me not knowing why he wanted Rose’s journals.”
I let out a laugh at her dramatics. I mean what else could I do? The choice was accept her for who she was, and act accordingly to protect her from herself, or fight it and no doubt lose because I had a feeling changing Harper’s course once she set it would be like trying to turn an oil tanker on a dime.
“All right,” I said, resigned. “So they’re going to let you talk to him while he’s in custody?”
I could meet her at the sheriff’s department. It was actually on the way to the lumberyard.
“No, he’s been released so I’m on my way now to see if he’ll talk to me at his mother’s house.”
His mother’s house? “What? No.”
<
br /> The guy broke into her house in the middle of the night and Harper wanted to go chat with him at his mom’s place?
And then what? Was she going to stop by the bakery and pick up a nice bundt cake so they could have tea together too?
This was not the appropriate situation to be social.
“Why not?” she asked, as if I were the crazy one.
“The man broke into the house. That’s why not.” How could she not see that?
“Which is exactly why I want to talk to him,” she said.
This woman—she was going to cost me my sanity. The worst part was, apparently it was a price I was willing to pay.
“Come straight home to Agnes’s. Please, Harper. I’m already here. I’ll go with you. If you really insist on talking to him, we’ll go over together.”
“Are you going to hurt him?” she asked warily.
I let out a surprised laugh. I couldn’t complain that she’d asked. It was a valid question. “No, I’m not going to hurt him.”
She paused as if she didn’t believe me.
“Harper, I promise.”
“Fine. I’ll see you at Agnes’s in a couple of minutes.”
“I’ll be here.”
I disconnected the call and then took the time to walk around the house, trying doors, checking what was secure and what wasn’t.
I should pick up some better locks at the store today too. Small town or not, bad shit happened sometimes even in a place where everyone knew everyone else. Which had me thinking, why didn’t I know this Joe guy on sight?
Yeah, he looked probably half a dozen years older than me so we wouldn’t have been in school together, but Callahan seemed to know him.
I didn’t have time to figure out that mystery before Harper pulled into the driveway and parked.
Arms folded, I leaned against my truck and waited for her to get out. I’d drive us to wherever this Joe and his mother lived.
