Plain Jeopardy

by Alison Stone

  “No one will ever be able to find the article they’re looking for in the future.”

  The woman leaned back on her heels, apparently satisfied. “When you’re done, let me know. I’ll be at the information desk upstairs.”

  “Thank you.” Grace watched the librarian walk down the narrow aisle, the bookshelves lining one side and the filing cabinets the other, her heels clacking on the cement floor. The librarian disappeared around the corner, and Grace waited until she heard the basement door click shut.

  Finally alone, Grace ran her fingers along the labels on the drawers and stopped on October of that fateful year. Her knees grew weak, and a darkness crowded the periphery of her vision. Was she about to open Pandora’s box?

  Should she or shouldn’t she?

  Drawing in a deep breath, she slid open the first cabinet drawer. She’d come this far. She’d check out a few articles, that’s all. Inside the drawer, manila folders were labeled with exact dates. She slid out the folders from a few days before to a few weeks after her mother’s body was found. She carried the stack to a desk at the far end of the aisle, pulled out a chair and sat. She squinted up at the flickering overhead lights, wishing there was a desk lamp. Not many people must use the basement.

  She opened the folder dated the day after her mother’s body had been found.

  Amish Woman Found Dead.

  Her mother’s life had been reduced to a four-word headline. No name. Simply “Amish Woman.”

  The black words on the yellowed paper swam in her field of vision. Blinking, she traced the letters, as if it provided a connection to her mother.

  As she slowly read the article, she imagined the writer, fingers flying over the keyboard, jazzed to write about something more substantial than cows escaping through broken fences. A quiver rippled through her stomach. Was she any different?

  She shook the thought away and focused on the article. It didn’t provide any significant information that she hadn’t already known. Her mother had gone into town to sell pies. The waitress oozed with pleasantries on how wonderful a person Mrs. Miller had been and then digressed into the usual platitudes: what an awful tragedy, her poor daughters, how had someone dumped her body in the family barn without being seen? It was almost too much to read.

  Breathing slowly through her nose, Grace tried to calm her nerves. She pulled out another article and squinted at the black-and-white photo taken from a distance. Was that her with her father and sisters? The hairs on her arms prickled to life. Her grandma’s house—the site of her sister’s bed & breakfast before it had been updated—stood in the background. She recognized the tree out front and the porch. Emotions she wasn’t ready to explore coursed through her.

  The buzzing and winking of the yellow fluorescent lights threatened to trigger a migraine. She slid the files into her tote bag, convinced the lighting would be better upstairs. She went over to the cabinet to close the drawer when the lights went out.

  Her heart nearly exploded out of her chest.

  Just great.

  Frozen in blackness, Grace called out, “Hello, I’m down here.”

  The only response was the uneven sound of her breath.

  “Hel-lo?” Her voice hitched. She didn’t dare move for fear she’d trip over something in the blackness.

  A muffled shuffling sent terror pulsing through her veins. “Hello? Is someone else down here?” She slid along the cabinets, the handles jabbing her side.

  Hope made her change direction. Her phone was in her bag on the desk. It had a flashlight app. Or she could call for help.

  A rhythmic creaking filled her ears, made louder in the blackness.

  What is that?

  “I’m down here!” she hollered in desperation.

  “I know you’re down here,” an unseen man whispered. Tiny pinpricks of fear blanketed her scalp. She slid closer to the desk, realizing whoever was here had intentionally turned off the lights. And was coming for her.

  Her hand found her tote bag on the desk. She reached inside and found her phone. She feared pulling it out and revealing her location, but she needed help. She swallowed hard. Remain calm. You’ve been in far scarier situations. Her usual response to those who warned her that her investigation was going to get her into trouble didn’t seem to be doing her much good at this exact moment.

  A loud, rhythmic creaking filled her ears. A groan of exertion cut through the blackness. She scrambled under the desk with her phone.

  A loud crash exploded in her ears. A violent whoosh of air sent her hair flying off her face.

  The bookshelves had crashed down around her, leaving her trapped underneath the desk.

  FOUR

  Conner braced himself against the cold winter blast as he strode toward his patrol car, careful to avoid oncoming traffic. He had let the teenage driver in her mother’s minivan off with a warning, mostly because he believed her when she told him through sobbing hiccups that she hadn’t been able to stop at the icy intersection. He told her it was a good thing he’d been the one to pull her over, because the sheriff had given all his officers a directive to crack down on all driving offenses, especially among the youth. And, more importantly, it was a blessing that her slide into the intersection hadn’t resulted in a crash.

  Everyone needed to slow down and be more careful on the roads.

  Safely back inside his warm patrol car, he balanced his clipboard on the center console and entered the information into the laptop. A little less paperwork for the end of his shift, which he was looking forward to more than usual. He thought he’d stop by and check on Grace. It had been a few days since he had seen her. He had convinced himself his visit was to make sure she wasn’t getting herself into trouble, not because the spunky reporter had caught his attention. Not that he was looking for anyone to catch his attention.

  But she had.

  His cell phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen. He smiled to himself and swept his finger across the screen.

  “Hello, Grace.” Conner wasn’t sure what he had expected when he picked up the phone. But it wasn’t what he heard next.

  “Conner.” Her panicked voice was barely above a whisper. “Conner, can you hear me?”

  “Yes.” He pressed the phone to his ear, fearing he wouldn’t be able to hear her over the sudden surge of adrenaline pulsing through his veins. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m in the basement of the library. I’m trapped.”

  Conner glanced over his shoulder to check for oncoming vehicles and pulled out onto the road. “I’m a block away. Are you hurt?”

  “No... I don’t think so...” Her voice cracked. “But I’m trapped. Someone was down here.”

  “I’m on my way.” He flipped on his lights and siren. He punched his foot down on the accelerator. Silence stretched across the phone line. “Grace? Are you there?”

  Silence.

  He eased off the gas as the library came into view. He scanned the crowded parking lot and realized his only option was to make his own spot. His patrol car bumped over the curb and came to an abrupt stop on the snow-covered lawn of the library. With the patrol car lights still flashing, Conner jumped out of the vehicle and sprinted across the lawn, the snow crunching under his boots. He flung open the library doors. He forced himself to slow down to avoid barreling into a couple of toddlers who had escaped from the not-so-watchful eye of their adult. The pair were now making a break for it, hand in hand, toward the group of senior citizens in the newspaper section.

  A thin woman in a purple dress with black-frame glasses and hair twirled in a bun was the first to make eye contact with him. She scooted out from behind the information desk. If he hadn’t been in such a panic to find Grace, it would have registered that the woman making a beeline for him with her pinched expression could have been plucked out of central casting for librarians.

 
“Officer, is there an emergency?” She angled her head to look around him, toward the wall of windows, no doubt to his patrol car parked on the front lawn, complete with lights flashing. Once he collected Grace, he’d make it up to the librarian by scheduling a date to give the kids a peek at a real patrol car.

  “Where’s your basement?” He strode toward the back of the library and looked both ways. He continued down the hall, proceeding on a hunch.

  The librarian chased after him with choppy steps. “What’s going on, sir? A woman is doing research in the basement. We have old records stored down there.”

  “Here?” Conner pointed at the door, then turned the handle. It was locked.

  The librarian nodded and flattened her hand over a key on a lanyard around her neck. “Yes, it’s usually locked, though it shouldn’t be now.” A line marred the woman’s pale forehead, and Conner had to resist the urge to yank the key from around her neck—now. “Like I said, a woman is doing research down there.”

  “Open the door,” he said through gritted teeth.

  The librarian hunched over and stuck the key into the lock without removing the lanyard from around her neck. She opened the door and took a step through the opening. Conner held up his hand. “No. Wait here. Keep anyone else from entering this back hallway.”

  “Oh.” The woman’s eyes widened underneath her thick lenses.

  Conner pulled out his gun, reached in and flipped on the basement light. The darkness scurried into the far corners where he couldn’t see. Where someone could easily hide.

  The wooden stairs creaked under his cautious step. Grace was in the basement. He had no idea if she was alone.

  * * *

  A cramp shot up Grace’s leg. It had been twisted under her for what seemed like forever, in a position no amount of exercise could have prepared her for. Pressing her eyes closed, she held the phone tight to her chest. She didn’t dare talk more than she had to for fear of revealing her location.

  She whispered a prayer of thanks when she heard the sound of a siren growing closer. Conner really had been close by. Her solace was short-lived when she opened her eyes and realized it was just as dark as when she had them pressed closed. A memory slammed into her, unbidden, and ramped up her panic.

  It was a long time ago. Grace was a teenager. Heather, her eldest sister, had come home after a big fight with her new husband. Grace loved having her sister around, and they had spent a fun evening watching a movie and eating popcorn. Their other sister, Rose, had been at a sleepover at a friend’s house. The credits for one of their favorite movies had begun to roll when Heather’s husband, Brian, pounded on the door looking for “his woman.” At the sound of his banging—his yelling—all the color drained from her sister’s face. The woman Grace looked up to, admired, the big sister who had always protected her two little sisters in their mother’s absence, had a sheen of terror in her eyes that shook Grace to her very core.

  Heather grabbed Grace roughly by the shoulders and shoved her toward the front hall closet. Before Grace knew what was happening, she was curled up among the shoes, umbrellas and whatever stuff she had thrown in there the last time she’d quickly cleaned up.

  Grace remained in the closet until the shouting stopped and the police took Brian away. Heather never took refuge in her childhood home again, because she knew that she’d be putting her little sisters’ lives in jeopardy.

  A rustling, then a snap sent light filtering from the far end of the basement and brought Grace immediately back to her current predicament. The fallen bookshelves in the basement of the library came into fuzzy focus in the dim lighting. Grace swallowed back the urge to call out. What if it wasn’t Conner?

  Dear Lord, help me.

  She’d give up the scoop on the next big story in a tropical climate just to be able to stretch out her legs again. She tried to shift to ease the pain and bumped her head on the underside of the desk.

  Ugh. Time had dulled the fear and now she was frustrated. Annoyed. She angled her head and strained to see toward the stairs to determine who was coming down.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs, then legs came into view. She squinted. Uniform pants?

  Emboldened by her certainty that Conner was here, she stretched out a hand and pushed the side of the metal shelving. It wouldn’t budge.

  She flashed back to the memory of being stuck in the front hall closet. Brian screaming at her sister. Heather crying.

  An overwhelming sense of claustrophobia swept over Grace. She needed to get out of this confined space now.

  “I’m over here! Get me out of here!” she screamed.

  Grace pivoted and scraped her back on the underside of the desk. Ignoring the pain, she shoved with all her strength against the metal shelving with two hands. The metal scraped against the cement floor.

  “Grace! Hold up!”

  She sat back on her feet, her entire upper body hunched over to fit under the space of the desk. Her elation at seeing Conner overwhelmed her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She held up a hand to block the beam from his flashlight. “Yes. Now please get that light out of my eyes.” Her panic made her irritable, and she suspected he’d use this against her. She’d heard the words countless times before from other well-meaning acquaintances. Investigating this is too dangerous. You need to stop.

  But whatever happened here this afternoon only proved she was on to something important. Something she had to continue to investigate.

  “Keep your limbs under the desk. I’m going to shove the shelving out of the way.”

  After some grunting and tossing books aside, Conner made a space big enough to reach her. “Grab my hand.”

  Grace slid her hand inside his solid one, and immediately the panicky feelings subsided. He started to pull her through the gap between the fallen shelving and the desk, when she squeezed his hand. “Hold up.” She ducked back under the desk and slid the strap of her tote over her shoulder.

  Grace found his hand again and let him pull her to safety over a stack of fallen books and mangled shelving. Once free and on solid ground, he held her out at arm’s length. “You okay?”

  Suddenly self-conscious, she pulled her hand from his and swiped at the back of her pants. She shook both legs to stretch them out. “I am now. My legs were falling asleep under there.”

  Conner glanced around, a muscle working in his jaw. “What happened?”

  She tucked her elbow closer to the tote hanging from her arm. “I came down here to do some research and next thing I know, the lights go out, I’m under the desk, and the shelves come crashing down.”

  “Did you see anyone?”

  Grace shook her head, thinking back to the pitch darkness. “It was a male voice. He said something like, ‘I know you’re here’ or ‘down here.’”

  “Did you notice anyone following you today?”

  “No, of course not.” Grace’s fear had morphed into indignation as she struggled to process what had happened. “Do you think I’d come down here alone if I thought someone was following me?”

  “What happened down here?” The librarian had found her way to the bottom of the stairs and was clutching the lanyard at her neck as she took in the mess. Her eyes slowly shifted to Grace. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you. And about this...” She held up her palm to the mess. “I can help you put everything back in place.”

  The librarian shook her head. “No, no. We’ll have to make sure everything is filed correctly.” She rubbed her nose. “Maybe Linnie... Oh, dear.” She shook her head and tut-tutted. Grace could see this woman reacting the same way to teenagers talking too loud in the quiet section of the library. “I’ve been so busy training Linnie. And then this...”

  “I’m very sorry,” Grace said.

  Conner touched her arm. “You don’t need to apologize. Y
ou didn’t do this.”

  The librarian opened her mouth, but Conner cut her off before she had a chance to protest. “Did you see anyone who looked out of place in the library?”

  One of the librarian’s eyebrows drew down above the frame of her glasses. “We welcome everyone to our library. We don’t—”

  “I understand.” Conner took a deep breath. “But did anyone stand out today? Someone who looked like they had the strength to knock over this shelving unit? Someone who usually doesn’t come to the library?”

  Grace leaned toward Conner. “I have to get out of here.” Even though she had escaped her tiny hidey-hole under the desk, the basement felt like a tomb. She smiled meekly at the librarian and tried to ignore the sweat dripping down her back. “I have to get air.”

  Conner nodded at Grace and guided her out of the basement with a hand on her lower back. They left the librarian in the basement to assess the damage with a warning not to touch anything. Not yet. He’d have to send a crew over to see if they could get fingerprints or any other evidence.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, Grace pointed to the door to the right of the basement door. “Anyone could have run out through the exit.”

  Conner moved toward the door, keeping her safely tucked by his side. “There’s a single track of footsteps in the snow headed toward the parking lot.”

  A cold chill skittered down her spine that had nothing to do with the swirl of snow flitting over the top of the lawn.

  Someone had tried to kill her.

  * * *

  “I’m fine, really. Thanks for bringing me home.” Grace stopped in the back doorway of the bed & breakfast, seeming eager for Conner to leave.

  Conner placed his hand on the frame of the door. “We need to talk. I promise I won’t stay long.”

  Grace’s eyes lit up, then she turned to hang her tote on a hook inside the door. “Oh, you mean in an official capacity. You need to fill out your reports.” He detected a hint of something in her tone. Yeah, he wasn’t too thrilled about the reports, either.

  “Yeah, reports.” He smiled and shrugged. “The reason I got into law enforcement was because I love paperwork.”