by Kym Roberts
The curtain moved. A hand appeared and I swung as hard as I could. But whoever it was anticipated my move and blocked my swing with his arm. The intruder cursed loudly as the stick bounced off his arm. I lifted it again, but he grabbed the head and wrapped his fingers around the ropes and pulled. I stumbled forward. Princess squealed and the sheriff holstered his gun as we came face to face, both of us still holding onto the mop.
I let go of my end and nearly sank to my knees in relief. Mateo Espinosa was anything but relieved. He was staring at my shirt and pushing me back to make me sit on the ground. I could see he was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him over the alarm. He began checking my stomach. That’s when I noticed my right arm was dripping…but I wasn’t feeling any pain. I would feel it if I’d been shot. Wouldn’t I?
I looked at Princess. Her eyes were squinted and her teeth were bared. Blood was dripping off her back foot.
Mateo, however, hadn’t yet noticed the source of the blood. He was still focused on my shirt. His hands roamed over my midsection and I smack them away and pointed to Princess. I could see the relief cross his face, but there wasn’t time to register what it meant. I grabbed for the rags stacked on the shelf.
Mateo helped me to my feet and yelled in my ear, “What’s the alarm code?”
I quickly gave it to him as I tried to apply pressure to the wound on my pet’s leg. Mateo momentarily disappeared and the alarm silenced. I could hear more voices out on the sales floor but wasn’t sure it was safe.
“O.M.W. What happened?”
“Scarlet, I need you to wait outside,” Mateo ordered in his firm voice. “This is a crime scene.”
“I’m not leaving until I know Charli is okay. Where is she?”
With Scarlet on the sales floor, I knew I could safely exit the stockroom. Applying pressure on Princess’s wound, I pushed my way through the pink velvety curtain. Scarlet took one look at me and her flawless, alabaster skin turned ghostly white.
“I’m okay,” I assured her. “It’s Princess. Someone shot Princess.” My voice quivered, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was that Princess wouldn’t die. Please don’t let her die.
I approached the front counter and placed her on top. She squirmed momentarily and let out a pathetic mewling noise. Scarlet hurried over to help me. Even in her black satin p.j.’s the sassy red head with an hour-glass figure made me look like a stick woman.
“Someone shot Princess? Why?”
I didn’t have an answer so I kept my mouth shut as we examined her entire body. Luckily, it was only her right back leg that had been injured.
Mateo returned as a couple of his deputies roped off the crime scene with bright yellow tape. “How is she doing?” he asked.
“I think it’s just superficial. But I’d like to take her to the emergency vet to make sure.”
“I’ll help you get her in the truck,” Mateo offered.
“I’ll go with you,” Scarlet volunteered.
This was why I’d stayed in Hazel Rock when I came home. The caring nature of the people and the way the entire town worked together toward a common goal was extraordinary. It was heartwarming and downright comforting.
“I’m going to need to get your statement when you’re done,” Mateo said.
I agreed, but focused on trying to make Princess comfortable.
“If we find out who did this, do you want to prosecute?”
“Was Princess born pink?” He looked at the pathetic little armadillo on the counter as if he was trying to decide.
“Of course, I want to prosecute. They hurt Princess and damaged the Barn.” For the first time, I looked around and absorbed the real damage. The broken glass sparkling on the floor reflecting the light from above. The front door hanging cattywampus off its track and broken. The white beadboard surrounding the front counter chewed up with bullet holes. The steps leading to the loft marred and scarred forever. Books lying on the floor, knocked over from displays that couldn’t withstand the destruction. Book spines split, the pages resembling targets at the shooting range.
“Who would do such a thing?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you.” Mateo pulled his trusty little notepad out of the shirt pocket. I’d met him several months back when I’d dialed 911 from Scarlet’s beauty shop. It had been my first day in Hazel Rock in twelve years. He’d pulled that notepad out to collect information from me about a murder. Since then our relationship was more than friendship, but not quite dating. He thought I needed to take care of my past with Cade first. I hadn’t argued with his rationalization for some reason.
“I have no idea. I was working late putting up holiday decorations and I stopped to take a break and feed Princess. We started to go upstairs and the front door shattered. Princess screamed.” I shuddered, remembering the awful noise. “I grabbed her and ran for the back room. The next thing I knew, you were coming through the curtain. You had to have seen more than I did.” I looked into his deep chocolate eyes, wishing I could melt into the night within them.
“I was at the diner having dinner when I heard shots fired. I called for backup and ran down the street. That’s when I saw the broken glass. I kicked the front door open and came in. Then you hit me.” He rubbed his arm.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you. I could just hear someone tearing through the store.”
“It was me calling out to you and your dad. Bobby Ray isn’t here?”
“No, he went home when we closed the store. I was working late to get things done for a news conference.”
“I think I need to know what this news conference is about.”
“We’re releasing a new product on Thursday and Penelope Calloway is going to help us.”
“What kind of product?” he asked with his pen poised to write.
“I really can’t say.”
He looked up from his pad. “Excuse me? What do you mean you can’t tell me what the product is? Is it legal?”
“Of course it’s legal! What the Sam Hill would make you think it wasn’t?” My moral outrage made my voice squeak.
“Then why have you been so evasive about the topic?”
“Because we’re having a very big reveal.”
It was his turn to be outraged. “And how am I supposed to find out if that has something to do with the shooting or not?”
“I can promise you, it doesn’t have anything to do with someone using the Barn for shooting practice.”
Mateo closed his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, he seemed to have his patience in check. “What makes you think this was just someone out shooting up the town? No other stores got damaged.”
“How do you know? Have you checked?”
“My deputies are checking now. So far, none of the other storefronts have broken windows.”
I looked to Scarlet for confirmation. The look on her face said it was true. Yet I’d promised Jamal I wouldn’t reveal anything about the app until after the press release. If my dad was here, he’d be telling Mateo everything, but I really didn’t think it was my story to tell. I needed to talk to my cousin first. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust our Mateo to keep our business secrets, I just found it hard to believe someone would put their sights on the Barn for something like the Book Seekers app. It didn’t make sense. It had to be something else…or just a random crime.
At least I hoped it was a random crime.
Sensing my wavering feelings, Mateo added, “Matt Allen was killed in the Book Grove on Tuesday. So far it looks like an accidental death. But then tonight the only other bookstore in the county gets shot up. I don’t like the way things aren’t adding up.”
When he put it like that, I didn’t like it either. Princess squirmed on the counter. “I need to ask my cousin if it’s okay, before I tell you about the app, but can I take Princess to the vet first?”
> Mateo nodded, but he was obviously displeased with me not revealing everything to him. “I’ll be here when you get done.”
I grabbed Princess’s bed from under the counter, gently put her in it, and carried her out to the truck. Scarlet jumped in the driver seat.
“I’m not sure I want you driving my daddy’s truck.”
“Should I take that as an insult?”
“You know how I feel about your driving, and how much I love this truck.” Her driving scared the living daylights out of me.
“O.M.W. Give me the keys, Charli Rae. I’m not about to hold a bloody animal. Look at the front of your shirt. Do you think I’m going to volunteer to look like that if I don’t have to?”
I glanced down at the bloody claw prints covering my shirt. My stomach looked like a scene out of the movie Alien, when the infant creature climbed its way out of its host body. It was kind of nasty.
“Okay, you can drive, but please be careful and slow down. The last thing I want to do is drop Princess on the floorboard.”
Scarlet agreed, and I called my dad on the way to the vet to let him know I was okay. I could tell from his voice that he was stressed. I reassured him that Princess and I were both okay and that I would see him back at the store. He finally agreed, but only after I put my phone on speaker and Scarlet assured him we were both in one piece.
A short time later we were at the emergency vet clinic in Oak Grove, miraculously with no further injuries from the drive. I was surprised at Scarlet’s ability to observe the traffic laws. It seems she was a pretty good driver when she wasn’t in her little two-seater BMW Isetta.
The vet cleaned Princess’s wound, but Princess was proving to be the type of patient who was a pain in the backside. She didn’t like it one bit and was probably the worst patient to visit the clinic in a long time. The vet was filling in a shift for someone else and had never seen a pink armadillo, nor did she approve of me having Princess as a pet. Especially when Princess scratched her. I tried to reassure her that Princess wasn’t a carrier of leprosy, but I don’t think she believed me. Especially when she started scrubbing with alcohol. I decided to avoid the moral issues of me owning an exotic animal. It wasn’t like I went out into the wild and snatched Princess from her mama. She was abandoned at birth when her mother and siblings were killed. I saw no reason to argue that point with a stranger. Princess had a good home, and we tried to make her as safe as possible while allowing her to be the wild animal she was.
“You might want to watch her diet. She seems to be getting a little too big for her shell. If she continues to gain weight, it could be dangerous for her health. What are you feeding her?”
I looked at Princess’s belly. It didn’t look too big to me, but I wasn’t in the habit of checking out other armadillos.
“She gets half a can of cat food in the morning and another half at night. Throughout the day, she gets mealworms or she goes outside to forage.”
“After her leg heals, I suggest you cut her down to half a can of cat food a day and supplement it with natural vegetables and bugs. She needs to forage more. She knows how, right?”
“Yeah. My dad taught her when she was a baby. The neighbors tend to complain when she digs in their flowerbed, so I’m pretty sure she’s eating them on a daily basis.” Princess had finally calmed down; her eyes were closed and she was completely submissive. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the vet had given her a sedative.
“Is there anything I should do for her leg?”
“Just make sure she keeps it dry for a while. After three or four days, she’ll be much better. She’s lucky it was just a graze.”
The vet gave me some pain medication to give Princess throughout the night. The next day, however, she was going to have to tolerate a little bit of pain to recover properly. I paid the hugely expensive bill and we headed home. When we pulled up to the front of the bookstore, the glass was cleaned up, the door was boarded and Mateo was standing out front with my dad. Crime scene tape still draped across the courtyard next to the Barn and attached to the antique lamppost on the other side.
We parked directly in front of the doors and as I was pulling Princess from the truck, we heard tires squeal as a vehicle turned onto Main Street, its engine roaring as it raced toward the Barn. Instinctively I tucked Princess into my body to protect her. I looked up in time to see a candy apple red vintage Camaro with the black rag top and oversized chrome wheels skid to a stop behind the truck. I recognized the car immediately. It took me back to the day he left me standing in the courtyard with the fountain bubbling—the same way my teenage emotions had been.
Cade Calloway jumped out of the driver’s seat and didn’t stop to close the door. He ran to me and grabbed me by the shoulders, inspecting every inch from my head to my toes—his gaze snagging on the blood on my shirt. Princess squirmed in my arms.
His hazel eyes were dilated as he towered above me. “I heard you were shot.”
“Who told you that?”
“Betty called my mom and told her ‘Princess was shot.’ I raced right over.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant. The man had been ducking me for two weeks, but when he thought I might seriously be injured, he came running.
“Princess Junior was shot.” I held up Princess and showed him the bandage on her back leg.
It didn’t seem to soothe him. “What happened?”
“Princess and I were heading up the stairs in the Barn and somebody started shooting up the front of the store. Some random crime.” I don’t know if I was trying to convince him or myself that it couldn’t be anything more than that. “Just some kids being stupid.” There was no other explanation.
Cade hugged me tight. It shocked me to see him care so much. Princess squirmed between us and began to squeal her displeasure. I could’ve sworn I heard him say, I thought I’d lost you forever as he leaned his chin on my head, but then he was pulling away and taking my arm like I’d been injured and needed his assistance. It was strange and comforting at the same time.
Daddy and Mateo approached, and I could see mist in my dad’s eyes. I reassured him immediately. “We’re both okay, Daddy.”
“As much as I wouldn’t want anything to happen to Princess, I don’t think I’d be able to handle losing you.”
Cade let me go and I hugged my dad. Almost instantly, Princess decided she’d had enough of people hugging me. She climbed into my daddy’s arms, nuzzling against his neck as if to say she wasn’t about to let him go.
My eyes welled up with unshed tears. I recently learned that after near-death experiences, tears could form out of nowhere. In the moment, when I had something to do and had no time to think about my emotions, I was good. But once everything was over, my body was ready to release all the pent-up stress. I sniffed and cleared my throat, trying to will the emotions away. Then I swiped at the lone tear that fell down my cheek.
Jamal stepped out the side door of the Barn with his mom.
They both ran toward me and a family hug made more tears escape. My aunt, who I’d never viewed as the emotional type, openly cried, while my cousin rubbed my back—almost as if he wanted to make sure I was in one piece and still breathing.
“What happened? We thought you were safe in this podunk town in the middle of nowhere. But you’ve been involved in more sh—”
“Jamal Keynon Harris. You watch your language. There is no reason to be using four-letter words.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Obviously, Jamal didn’t play his video games in front of my aunt. Four-letter words flew throughout his apartment when he was online.
“It was just some random thing,” I said again, trying to convince myself as much as everyone else.
“Get out.” Jamal was less than convinced.
“What else could it have been?” We all looked toward Mateo for answers.
“That’s what I aim
to find out.” Mateo turned and began rolling up the crime scene tape. He was done at the Barn, but I was betting his night had just begun.
Chapter Six
Everyone had pitched in to help clean the store. The windows were boarded, the books were separated into stacks of good to sell and those that needed to be included in the insurance claim, and the glass and debris had been swept and vacuumed. Bullet holes and splintered wood were still visible but would have to wait for the next day. About nine o’clock, everyone went their separate ways, but Cade said he’d be back in an hour with dinner. He wanted to keep our dinner date. Or so he said.
It was currently nine minutes after ten and I was working myself into a tizzy. He wasn’t coming. I knew he wasn’t coming. He was stringing me along until some big political event occurred and then he’d ask Reba Sue to go with him. I tore off the blouse I had on and put on a clean T-shirt. My Book Boyfriend is Better Than Yours splayed across the front of the shirt in bold red letters. I looked in the mirror. With leggings, it didn’t look too bad, and if he didn’t show, I could sleep in it.
Princess looked up at me and snorted.
“I know, I shouldn’t waste my time. He’s not going to show. I starved myself for nothing and now I’ll be stuck eating a gallon of vanilla ice cream for dinner.”
Which didn’t sound too bad…as long as my cousin didn’t come home and want half. But hopefully I was safe since he’d asked to use my daddy’s truck. He’d never driven a truck and wanted to test drive a “man’s car” so he’d left his keys and headed out on the town while my aunt and Daddy went home to my dad’s house.
Princess grunted and ran for the door. She didn’t seem to be doing too badly with her bandage. “You can’t go out. You’re hurt.”
A moment later she began scratching and I knew it was a losing battle. “Fine. But don’t you dare stay out late.”
I opened the door and glanced at my watch. Ten fourteen.
Princess ran down the steps and I thought for sure she was going to roll, but somehow, she made it to the bottom in one piece. I heard a creak of metal and looked toward the gate at the edge of the narrow alley leading to my apartment and the river. Blocked off from the front of the store with an iron gate, I always thought our apartment was in a pretty neat location at the back of the bookstore on the upper level. I’d lived here with my parents as a kid, and after my mom died when I was ten, my daddy and I stayed on. He now had a house, and I had the apartment.
