“Let’s look back over what we know they did. All four of them—your parents and mine—met in college. We know your mother got her doctorate in grad school in psychology, and mine went for a Master’s in education. Both of our fathers went on to get a double Master’s in criminology and criminal studies at the same time. Then both of our fathers went to the academy. By that time, all four of them would have been about our age now.”
“Okay, I agree so far. So explain where all those years went during which my mother was having miscarriage after miscarriage and suddenly sixteen or seventeen weeks after academy graduation she was giving birth to twins? How could she have made it through college and grad school on time?”
“I can’t explain it, but you’re right. The timeline seems off.”
“What was it Justin said about not signing up with the union yet so they had no health benefits?”
“You have to apply after graduation. Your father may still have had the paperwork and not turned it in yet. Maybe they thought they had more time before your mother went into labor. Nobody has told us whether you…and Justin…were premature.”
“I was six and a half pounds. His birth certificate said he was close to seven pounds. That’s enormous for twins. We were definitely not premature. Full-term twins are frequently four to five pounds each, sometimes less.”
He put an arm around her shoulders.
“Okay, I’m going to do some serious but very quiet digging into this, looking into county records, and finding this Phelps woman in St. Paul. We will get the answers, Laura. I promise you.”
She leaned over to kiss his cheek.
“Please try to find out why our birth certificates both show ‘single live birth.’ ”
“Delivered in two separate settings by two different health care professionals. Maybe it was too hard to combine them. Maybe Ramsey County wouldn’t let them. I don’t know, but I’ll give it my best.”
“Why would they lie to me?”
“Laura, look. I’m sure they would have told you eventually. Justin said the adoption was private and sealed, and his adoptive parents were not permitted to tell him about it until he turned eighteen. Maybe that’s what they were waiting for, as well. They thought they’d be around when you turned eighteen. At this point, we’re only speculating and guessing.”
“Justin said he had to meet with Edna Phelps and she would answer all his questions. That’s not in the letter.”
“I know. We’ll talk to his adoptive parents, as well.”
“I just had a thought, Connor. While you were on the phone, Justin told me Edna Phelps told him we were in danger, and that the whole Rage family was in danger. If that’s true, it jibes with what you and I know, and it might be the reason Aunt Rose kept me locked far away from Minnesota with her friends always with me.”
“A lot of things are possible. Don’t reach any conclusions yet until we have more facts.”
“I’m supposed to be helping at the New Library this evening. I have to call Glenda and cancel,” Laura said, still very distracted. “I don’t know what to do with a brother I didn’t even know I had.”
Neither do I, Connor thought, his arm protectively around her.
Chapter 27
“Where are you today, Laura?” Kelly Rogers asked. She had brought a final printed copy of the Heritage Days coloring book for Laura’s approval so it could go to press.
Laura looked up from her contemplation of the coffee in her mug.
“Sorry. Didn’t sleep well.”
“Maybe you can catch up tonight. Can we go over the final and get quantities from Harry so this coloring book can go to print?”
“Sure. Let’s start at the back cover, then the last page and go backwards to the front.”
“You got it,” Kelly said, used to Laura’s process that had nothing to do with logic other than you see things going backwards that you can easily miss going forwards.
Twenty minutes later, they called Harry and got a total.
Kelly left to send the digital file directly to the printer.
Laura was once again, alone but not alone in the shop with thoughts about Lorelei and now…a brother. Maybe she could try focusing on Lorelei this evening at the New Library.
* * *
Connor was on the phone in his office doing little but listening for about thirty minutes. His staff noticed the serious look on his face when he got up to close his door. No one bothered him during this call with Nolan Frye, Connor’s friend at the Duluth FBI office.
He wrote nothing down but stored it all in his brain. There would be a time when he would need to take notes and likely meet with others. Frye was also advising him what he could and could not say to Laura Keene about…the Old Library. A meeting would be scheduled very soon and they would include her. In fact, there was more than one person who thought she should be included in the raid.
Raid.
That word brought a deep frown to Connor’s forehead. No way he would let Laura put herself in harm’s way. Not while he was around and still breathing. But he would hold his tongue until the meeting on the outside chance she would not actually be in danger.
When the call was concluded, Connor reopened his door and motioned to Brianna to come into his office. He closed the door behind her.
“Have a seat, Broadmoor.”
“What’s up?” she asked, spotting his serious, professional look.
“Has everyone obeyed the directive to stay away from Route 4 until further notice?”
“Yes. Even our less experienced officers. Sven said they’re afraid of me.”
A brief smile teased Connor’s face.
“And so they should be. Never mess with a cheerleader turned cop.”
“They all still want to know why.”
“What has been told to them?”
“Stay off the road.”
“Do they think something is up?”
She nodded.
“I can neither confirm nor deny at this time. Just stay off the road unless it’s an emergency. I’ll read you in as soon as I can.”
After Brianna left his office, Connor grabbed his hat and took off for Second Treasures. He ran a hand over his face as he pulled out of the station parking lot.
So much to think about.
So much crushing in from all sides.
It was time to give Laura a heads up on the Old Library but only what he was allowed to share at this point.
Then he would do some digging on both Justin Carlson and Edna Phelps, and if he couldn’t find anything, he would go right back to Nolan Frye.
He parked next to her car in the loading dock and texted her that he was at her back door.
Moments later, she opened it for him. Took one look at his face and motioned him inside. “I changed the code. Here it is,” she said, handing it to him. She had left a stickie next to the keypad for the next time Connor stopped by.
He tucked it in his pocket.
“Are you on lunch?”
“Not yet but I can be.”
“Why don’t you clear everyone out and take a thirty minute break. I’ll wait in the kitchenette.”
Laura returned shortly and found him poking around in the fridge.
“Second shelf on the right.”
“I found them,” he said, pulling out a fresh batch of butterscotch brownies.
“I didn’t know what else to do last night. I couldn’t sleep. I hope the brownies taste okay. I remember little about making them except for this.” She showed him a tiny burn on the heel of her right hand. “Can’t remember what I bumped.”
He set the brownies on the table and pulled her into his arms, picked up her hand gently and kissed it next to the burn.
“Laura, Laura, Laura,” he said and shook his head. “Sit down. I have something to tell you.” He pulled out two glasses and the half gallon of milk from her fridge, a table knife from the silverware drawer, two small plates from the cupboard, put everything on the table and joined her.<
br />
“Are brownies and milk our lunch?” she asked, cutting into the brownies and placing a square for each of them on a plate.
“As good as chocolate cake for breakfast. Now listen because I can’t tell you very much, but you will know more soon. I just got off the phone with Nolan Frye. Your suspicions about something going on at the Old Library have proven correct. A task force, made up of people I can’t tell you about, took your suggestion and went into the shed next to the bait and tackle shop, broke through the door, went down that long set of steps we did when we were kids, went through the tunnel under the road, went up the other side and took the door and set of steps I told them to take, and they ended up in the hidden passages behind the book shelving. They found the librarians’ peepholes and put in cameras and microphones and found out what is going on there. Right now, they’re just gathering evidence. All I can say to you is stay off Route 4. Don’t tell anyone else to do that—just you stay off it. Anything more can start rumors and give people reasons to drive more frequently on that road, which we can’t have happen.
“They’re planning a raid on the operation that I can’t tell you anything about. Mallory has asked that you be involved in this. He actually put in the request directly to Frye, so I have little say in the matter. While I would always, first and foremost, prevent you from getting in harm’s way, I don’t know what your part would be, and I don’t believe I have the power to stop this. All I can tell you is that there’s something at the Old Library and they have to stop it.”
“Wow. There’s a lot going on right now from all angles, isn’t there?” Laura posed, taking a big swallow of milk.
He nodded, filling his mouth with another bite of brownie.
“I haven’t been able to look into Justin Carlson or Edna Phelps, but I wanted to tell you that, and if I can’t find anything, I will immediately turn it over to Nolan.”
“Can we do that?”
“Sure. We can leave out the part about the Rages being in danger, but I think he already knows about that rumor. For now, we’ll just say Justin is claiming to be your long-lost brother. But before I do that, I want your permission for me to talk to my father and my mother. All four of our parents knew each other for seven years before our dads went into the academy. My parents might be able to tell us more than you and I know about what went on during that time.”
“Do it. And I’ll check with the four organizations that use little stuffed animals and find out how long they’ve done that, including the photography studios in this town. I have to do something to keep my mind off…”
He stood and pulled her close.
“Laura, you are not alone, and I will never leave you to deal with any of these things by yourself.”
* * *
If Laura expected a quiet as usual Friday afternoon as the people in her town ramped up for their holiday weekend plans, she wasn’t disappointed, but she didn’t anticipate what did happen.
Empress Isabella came out to join her as the after-lunch crowd dissipated. Perched on the top edge of the register, she sat proudly, back arched, tail gently flowing over the keyboard. The feline glanced around the shop, noting the arrangement of merchandise was in order and watched with interest as her human tidied and straightened the shelf items. She gave a soft merrow as Laura returned to the counter to restock bags.
Laura scratched the cat behind her ears and was rewarded with a deep, contented purr, but she yanked her hand away from the cat the minute she saw someone at the front door.
Will Kovacs, baker extraordinaire, the youngest of the three Kovacs brothers, pushed open the door with some difficulty. Laura’s eyes grew big as she saw he was trying to corral his two-year-old black lab on a leash.
“Hi, Peeks! And hi to you, too, Will!” Laura greeted them both with a big smile.
Peeks was straining at his leash, tugging his owner into the shop.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with Peeks today, Laura. We were just out for a much-needed walk—for both of us—and I thought I’d stop by to see how the business card arrangement is working out. All of a sudden, he’s gone wild on me.”
Peeks, a dog who earned his name by peeking around corners to see what’s going on and quickly jumping back if he realized someone saw him, was now standing rigid, on his taut leash, staring above the register. His nerves were causing jerks and yips.
Laura didn’t dare look to the register, but her ears told her what Isabella was doing: hissing and spitting at the poor dog, driving him crazy. She imagined a paw was sticking out threateningly, claws visible, too.
“I don’t understand,” Will continued. “Do you have a cat in here somewhere?”
“A cat?” Laura asked, looking puzzled.
“Or any pets?”
“I don’t own any pets, but lots of people come through here and I’m sure that at least some of them have pets and maybe Peeks smells the cat dander or the gerbils or whatever.”
Will kept two hands on the dog’s leash, stooped to calm him but with little success.
“Well, I guess this will be a short visit, but I wanted to ask how the business card referrals are working.”
Kovacs was asking about a business arrangement between his bakery and Laura’s thrift shop whereby he gave out her business cards in his bakery with promises of a discount in her shop if they spent a minimum amount there.
“They’re working great, Will. I’ve gotten lots of them back and more sales. I appreciate what you’re doing—”
By now Peeks was barking and trying to leap at the register.
Laura remained calm and kept her eyes on the dog and Will.
“Okay, buddy, time to go. See you, Laura,” Will said, struggling to get his dog out of the shop.
Once the door closed behind him and they were out of sight of the shop, Laura turned to Isabella.
“You were very mean to that puppy. If you do anything like that again, I will banish you from the shop and you may never, never come in here again!” Uncertainty as to how she would accomplish that didn’t bother her.
But Isabella was performing her usual ablutions and taking no note of anything Laura said.
Laura huffed and realized she had just taken this relationship or whatever it was she had with the cat only she could see —and perhaps now dogs, too—to yet another level. She not only conversed and made deals with the cat, but now she was trying to discipline it and improve its manners. She imagined her parents were rolling their eyes somewhere.
Isabella looked up and tilted her head.
“No, I didn’t lie about you. You are not a pet and I don’t own you. We both know that. But you are going to have to work on your manners, missy, if you want to stay in my good graces.” Laura finished by shaking a finger in the feline’s face, but Isabella’s paw just batted it away before she leaped off the register and sauntered into the workroom behind the shop, completely uninterested.
* * *
After closing up the shop for the day, Laura fixed a quick dinner and headed over to the New Library to meet Glenda Thursson. The women were going to take a look in the boxes that Max and Nicky had brought out from the basement storage room to see what could be used for the Heritage Days Festival display of the Old Library.
The old card catalogue passed in the first round. Glenda put a bright green stickie on it. Someone on the staff would clean it up and polish its beautiful oak.
“Wait,” Laura interrupted. “We know we’re going to display it, but we didn’t look in any of the drawers to see if there’s anything in them.”
Glenda jumped right in, pulling open the drawers, one after another.
Laura, on the other hand, having already been surprised and shocked recently with a variety of unexpected things, let the librarian take the lead. She sighed with relief when nothing unforeseen and troubling showed up.
“Oh, look,” Glenda said. “When they took the cards out to use them to enter the book data into our computers, it looks like they didn’t care what t
hey did to the nickel-plated iron bars that held the cards in place. We may have to get someone to repair or rebuild them.”
Laura had seen pictures online and knew exactly what she was talking about. Each card had a reinforced hole in the center along the bottom edge through which a pole slid beginning at the front of the drawer and ending at the back where it was latched. All cards were “anchored” in the drawers and could not accidentally be pulled by a patron who might later forget to put it back. Thus, all cards remained in the drawers at all times. Cards could be added and removed only by librarians who knew how to disengage the pole that ran the length of the drawer. Prior to that time, the cards simply rested in the drawers, grew disorganized, and disappeared on a regular basis.
“Do you have a handyperson who can fix these?”
“Oh, yes, we do. It’ll all be done in time for the Festival.”
The women opened box after box and put green stickies on many of them. Once they opened the box with the microform readers inside, Laura got excited.
“Can we pull this out to see if it works?”
It took both of them to lift one out of the box and get it onto the table. Laura plugged it into the electrical outlet and the women both crossed their fingers when Laura flipped the power switch.
At first, nothing happened. Then they heard a low hum and saw a small light brighten below the front of the display. When the screen itself turned medium green, they high-fived each other.
“Okay, we got this far. Now let’s find some reels to test,” Laura said.
Glenda’s phone buzzed.
“Oh, I have to go upstairs. I’ll only be a few minutes, Laura. Go ahead and pull some of the microfilm reels out and see if this machine still works. It’s easy to figure out. I’ll be back.”
Laura dug into the box with the reels. Thankfully, they had all been covered in metal canisters, as film reels used to be, and they were all dated and labeled with what they contained. She found one that was titled “Fiction – A-Ar” and unscrewed the lid, and inserted the reel into the spot where the arrow on the machine indicated. It was actually the only place it could go with a spindle. She fed the end of the microfilm into the slot, again with an arrow pointing to it, and hooked the first few sprocket holes on the edge of the film onto the hooks that would guide it to a take-up reel inside the machine. Then she looked for the activator, but it appeared that all she had to do was turn the knob.
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