Victoria’s stocking-clad feet made almost no sound as she descended the floral carpet runner that graced the antique staircase. “Find anything?”
“No. Is Paige okay?”
“She’s in bed reading. I think she’s more upset by your questions than she is afraid of the robber.” Victoria sighed. “And I guess I’d rather have her angry at you than frightened for her safety.”
Though he didn’t like knowing he’d offended the sprite, Owen was glad, for Paige’s sake, that she wasn’t overly terrified, either. “I didn’t mean to offend her.”
“She’s nine, going on nineteen. Sometimes you can’t help but offend her.” Victoria reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up toward him, her warm brown eyes scanning the room, but never quite meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry if we called you over here for nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothing. I agree with your theory that Charlotte may have sent the man running. The question is, what was he doing here?”
Victoria shivered visibly. “I was thinking about that. Maybe you know more about this, but I always thought Fitzgerald Bay was a peaceful, sleepy little town. Part of the reason Paige and I moved back was because I wanted her to have the same upbringing I did—in a small town, with good schools, where everyone knows everyone else and people watch out for each other.”
Owen heard the yearning in her words, and it echoed his own feelings. It was what he’d always wanted for his family. “Fitzgerald Bay is a peaceful town. It’s just lately, since Olivia’s murder, all sorts of problems have been cropping up.”
“That’s just it.” Victoria wrapped her arms around herself, not so much in a defensive posture, but as if she was trying to comfort herself. “Do you think it’s only a coincidence that all these things have been happening all at once? Or is there something bigger going on here?”
Owen felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end at her words. After several years in police work, that didn’t happen to him often. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what if it’s connected? What if this bad guy is after something Olivia left behind? Maybe the robbery Sunday night was just to cover up what he’s been up to. You were wondering why he would break the cookies. It doesn’t fit the profile of a robber who just wants money. Maybe he’s not after money.”
Snapping open his notebook, Owen jotted a couple of notes.
Victoria continued. “And the break-in last month—in Detective Delfino’s room. That was the same room Olivia stayed in when she first came to town.”
“But that break-in was related to an old case Nick had been working on back in Boston, not Olivia’s case.”
“Are you sure of that? Olivia’s murderer is still out there, and lately it feels like the Sugar Plum has become a target. I’m just trying to sort out why.” She hugged herself, one hand wrapping securely around the bank bag Owen had spotted tucked into her waistband earlier.
“Is that your bank bag?”
She nodded.
“What are you planning to do with it? You haven’t replaced your safe yet, have you?”
“I ordered a new safe, but I’m not sure how long it will take to arrive. I thought I’d put this under my pillow tonight and deposit it as soon as the bank opens in the morning.”
The jolt of fear Owen felt for her safety surprised him. He told himself he wasn’t as much concerned for her safety, as his daughter’s. Surely the feelings he’d once had for Victoria had disappeared when she left town. “That’s not a good idea. You put yourself in danger that way. If anyone wants the money, they have to go through you.”
“But I have to keep the money safe.” Victoria looked up at him with challenge in her eyes.
Like a flashback from the past, the look on Victoria’s face reminded him of all the times they’d gone head-to-head when they’d dated ten years before. He’d loved the way she’d challenged him—making him fight for his side, whether it was the sports team he rooted for or what movie they were going to see. But the stakes were higher now. Owen buried the swirl of emotions that threatened his objectivity. “You can’t put yourself at risk. I can take the bank bag over to the police station for tonight, but you need to figure out a solution until your safe gets here. You can’t put yourself in danger.”
He watched Victoria wrestle with the decision as she slowly pulled the bag from her waistband. For a second, he thought about how he might try to convince her if she turned him down again, but then he caught himself. Victoria had wronged him. So why did he feel the urge to wrap a comforting arm around her? He’d loved her once, very much. And it would be far too easy to let his feelings for her resurface. He couldn’t let her big brown eyes distract him. He was on duty, and the officers of the FBPD had a reputation to rebuild. Though he wanted to talk more about Paige, now was not the time.
Victoria placed the bag in his hands, and relief washed over him. “I’ll keep it safe,” he promised, forcing himself to keep his thoughts on the case, even when her hands brushed his, sending a jolt to his head. He couldn’t forget that someone had broken into the Sugar Plum, and his daughter’s safety was at stake. “I didn’t find any cat prints.”
“What?” Victoria’s eyes widened. “What are you suggesting?”
“I don’t know. It’s entirely possible that Charlotte chased a cat through the backyard, but then again, Charlotte isn’t known for running after anything she doesn’t have to. Why chase the cat all the way around the building? Why not just scare it off or call animal control?”
“Maybe she wanted to see where it went.”
“Maybe she was meeting someone,” Owen said.
“What? Who?”
“Charlotte knew the money was in the safe Sunday night. She knew it was a big take.”
“But Charlotte has worked for the Sugar Plum for decades. She was the hostess here when my mother was the pastry chef twenty years ago. She loves this place.”
Owen nodded. “And she tried to buy this place before you did, but she couldn’t afford it.”
“So you’re suggesting she’d steal from me, put me out of business and then use the stolen funds to buy the store?” Victoria shook her head. “I trust Charlotte.”
“And I trust the people of Fitzgerald Bay. But as long as we’re considering suspects, let’s not disregard someone who had both motive and opportunity. And if she had an accomplice, she’d have the means, too.”
“That doesn’t make her guilty.”
“No, but someone is. And I don’t think you’re going to like finding out who it is.”
FOUR
Owen looked up at the sound of a knock on his office door.
Victoria stood in the doorway with a platter of cookies in her hands, the expression on her face one he recognized from years before, whenever she was unsure of herself. Come to think of it, she’d looked that way every time she’d ever been to the Fitzgerald family home, usually bearing treats as she did now.
He joined her in the doorway. “Did someone order cookies?”
“These are a gift.” Victoria extended the platter toward him. “To apologize.”
“For?”
“My behavior the other day, for one thing. I was very rude. And also, well—” She peeked past him into the office, as though worried about being overheard. She looked relieved to see that no one else was in the office, and she took half a step farther in. “I owe you more than a platter of cookies, I know. But I thought it would be a start.” She handed over the tray.
“I’m not going to turn away your cookies—” Owen chose a cheery frosted yellow duck “—but you were perfectly justified in feeling frustrated. Our department owes you answers and action. You’ve had more than your fair share of trouble lately. We’ve failed you, and I’m sorry.” He took a bite of cookie as he finished, but his eyes didn’t le
ave her face.
She still had that fearful expression, as though she might bolt at any moment. “All this time, I was so worried about how you’d take the news about Paige.” She looked up at him, her wide chocolate-brown eyes rimmed by thick lashes he’d once found so beguiling. Maybe he found them beguiling still. “But I haven’t heard from you, other than when you showed up to investigate our intruder the other night. I thought, well…”
Owen listened with guilt churning in his gut. He knew exactly why he hadn’t been by—because he hadn’t sorted out his feelings yet. And because it had occurred to him that he hadn’t been around a nine-year-old girl since his little sister Keira was that age. The prospect was more than a little intimidating.
“The reality of the situation is still sinking in,” he admitted truthfully.
“I just thought you’d be more curious.” Victoria looked lost—as lost as he felt. “I know it’s been almost ten years now, but I feel like I owe you my side of the story. Don’t you want to know what happened after graduation?”
Owen’s gut twisted a little more. He didn’t want to dredge up the pain of all he’d lost, and the last thing he wanted to hear was her reasoning for leaving him and running off with Hank Monroe. He had to work with the man on a daily basis, but he was nearly certain whatever Victoria had to tell him would change the way he looked at Hank. “Can’t we leave the past in the past?”
Victoria’s mouth dropped open, but before any words came out, Ryan Fitzgerald, Owen’s oldest brother and the deputy chief of police in Fitzgerald Bay, carried an open box through the office door.
“Owen, take a look at this.” Ryan set the box on Owen’s desk, next to the platter of cookies. “Are these your cookies?”
“Help yourself.” Owen poked open the cardboard flaps of the small box.
“Is that a baby blanket?” Victoria asked.
“I believe so.” Ryan lifted the blanket gingerly with one gloved hand. “This package just arrived in the mail. By the looks of the postmark, it was mailed yesterday from the Fitzgerald Bay post office.” With his other hand, he plucked up a small pale object with tweezers.
“What is that?” Owen asked.
Victoria stared at it.
“Is it a hospital bracelet?”
“It’s awfully small to be a bracelet—” Owen began, but Victoria shook her head.
“It could be a baby bracelet. That would make sense with the blanket.” She circled around the desk, but stopped short of looking over Ryan’s shoulder. “I suppose it’s not my place—” she began.
“It sounds like we could use your expertise.” Owen peered over his brother’s other shoulder at the small band. “Henry Baby Girl,” he read quietly, and his eyes scanned the rest. It was dated a little over a year before, with what looked like a time, 22:47, and then “Dr. O’Rourke.”
“Henry Baby Girl,” Victoria breathed from her vantage point over Ryan’s opposite shoulder. “The only person with the last name Henry—” She looked up and swallowed.
“Olivia,” Ryan finished what all of them were thinking.
“Did Olivia have a baby?” Owen asked, still unsure what to make of the contents of the box.
“If she did, she never told me. Maybe the baby belonged to a relative with the same last name,” Victoria suggested.
“Then why would this package come here?” Ryan shook his head.
“What about Meghan Henry?” Owen snapped his fingers. “She’s Olivia’s cousin. She shares her last name—and she’s certainly within childbearing age. Maybe the baby was hers.”
Ryan looked skeptical. “If these belonged to Meghan, she would hold on to them, don’t you think? There’s no reason for anyone to send them to us. I’ll ask Meghan, but my gut instinct tells me this is related to Olivia’s murder. Why else would they be delivered here?” He turned to Victoria. “If I’m going to follow up on Meghan, I might as well check into any other members of the Henry family who these things could have belonged to. Did Olivia ever mention any other family members?”
“Not to me, and I was as close to her as anyone, except of course for Merry.” Merry O’Leary had been Olivia’s closest friend, and had unfortunately been the one to find Olivia’s body two months before. Now Merry and Owen’s older brother Douglas were seeing one another after working together closely on the investigation.
Ryan shook his head. “Merry has shared everything she knew about Olivia. She’s as determined as anyone to solve her murder. She wouldn’t have left out a detail like this.”
“Maybe the baby wasn’t Olivia’s then.” Owen finished off the duck cookie in his hand. “If that’s a birth date, the baby would only be a year old now, and younger when Olivia first came to town. That’s a pretty current memory to never mention to anyone.”
“Unless she had a reason not to mention the baby,” Ryan suggested.
“A secret baby.” Victoria sounded as if she was still coming to grips with the revelation. “Poor Olivia. What do you think happened?”
“Do you suppose the baby died?” Ryan wondered aloud. “The loss might have been too painful for her to discuss.”
“That sounds plausible,” Owen agreed. “Why else would a person never mention their child?”
Victoria scowled down at the bracelet. “Maybe she was hiding her daughter—maybe she was afraid if the baby’s father knew about her, he’d try to take her away.” She gasped. “Maybe he already did take the baby away.”
“You think she was kidnapped?” Ryan asked.
“Or won in a custody battle.”
“Preference tends to go to mothers in those deals,” Owen pointed out. Cooper had already briefed him on the statistics when he’d been by his office two days before.
“Yes, but what if he was from a wealthy family, someone of means and an established reputation, and she was just a poor single girl with nothing to show? Olivia mentioned that she was raised by just her mother, who died of heart disease a couple years ago. She and I had that in common—both losing our mothers. If she had no support network, no income, the baby might have been given to the father. That would explain why Olivia came here—to get away from painful reminders of her child.”
Her words sounded heartfelt, and Owen had to remind himself to deal with the facts of the case. Victoria wasn’t talking about her own child, but Olivia’s. Wasn’t she?
“Your theory would certainly fit the circumstances,” Ryan agreed. “I’m going to search for this Dr. O’Rourke and find out if he can tell us anything about the child born on this date. He should be able to tell us for certain who the mother was. The hospital will have records of the birth—including the father, if one is listed, and they would know if the baby died, especially if it happened early on, maybe even shortly after birth.”
“Oh, poor Olivia.”
Victoria’s words tugged at Owen’s heartstrings. He reminded himself that Victoria was a compassionate person. Her response had nothing to do with her own situation. They were discussing Olivia’s daughter, not hers. He had to focus on the case. “Is there anything else in the box?”
Ryan gingerly sorted through the lightweight blanket. A small piece of paper fluttered out, landing in plain sight on the desk.
A check. Made out to cash. Signed by one William Sharp, who, from the looks of the information on the check, was an attorney in Manhattan. The check was dated a few days after the birth date on the bracelet.
Victoria let out a tiny gasp. “It was never cashed. Oh, poor Olivia. Do you think this reinforces my theory?”
“It certainly coincides with it,” Owen admitted reluctantly. “But the father may not have won the baby. He may have paid for custody.”
“Is that legal?” Victoria asked, her expression appalled.
“Perhaps in certain circumst
ances.” Owen shook his head. “Not likely, though.”
“Do you think this might be related to Olivia’s death?” Victoria pressed.
“Of course,” Ryan answered.
“How can it be?” Owen asked at the same moment.
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked.
“She didn’t cash the check.” Owen pointed to the slip of paper that rested on the desk. “It doesn’t make sense. If she came back and asked for more money, then I could understand her being killed to keep her quiet, but how could she ask for more money? She never touched the first ten grand.”
Ryan twisted his mouth into a thoughtful expression. “But there’s more going on here. This package was mailed from Fitzgerald Bay. Somebody here in town had these items. How could this not be related to her death, then?”
Victoria’s face scrunched up as though she might cry. “Doesn’t it all make sense? She didn’t cash the check. She didn’t want the money. But he killed her.” Victoria swallowed back a cry. “He killed her because she wanted her little baby girl back.” Her fingers shook as she lifted them to her mouth, stilling her lips, which trembled.
Owen observed Victoria’s emotional reaction. What was it about Olivia’s story that had Victoria reacting so strongly? Was it because they’d been friends? Or did Victoria know more than she was telling? She certainly sounded convinced of her own hypothesis about what had happened.
“We’ll catch him,” Owen said, the conviction in his voice surprising, even to him. “We’ll catch whoever did this. We will bring Olivia’s murderer to justice.”
But Ryan shook his head morosely, clearly confounded by the new, mystifying elements of the case. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.” He faced Victoria. “I’d be obliged if you didn’t speak about what you’ve seen in here today. We’ll try to sort out who might have sent this package and what it means, but in the meantime, any knowledge we have that isn’t public may be our only advantage.”
Victoria’s eyes widened. “I suppose I shouldn’t have seen what was in the box.”
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