Sully’s face turned a hot shade of red but then he smiled and locked his gaze on hers. He leaned in close and took her hand in his and tugged her toward him until she was just inches away from him.
“I can’t help it,” he said. “You do not bring out the most civilized version of me. I’ve tried, really, I have. I’ve taken it slow, I’ve tried to be just friends so that we can rebuild what was lost between us due to my bungling, but here’s the thing. I don’t want to be friends.”
“No?”
“No.”
He pulled her closer so there were just the smallest of air particles between them.
“You once said to me that you were not going to chase me, that if I wanted to ask you out, I needed to strap on a pair and get it done,” he said.
“I remember,” she said. Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. She was having a hard time thinking. He was so close she felt engulfed in his body heat, and the smell of the sea that seemed to be so much a part of him swamped her senses and fritzed her brain.
“So, I guess we’re there again,” he said. “I’m asking: Will you go out with me?”
“Yes,” she answered.
She felt Heathcliff sit on her foot as he wedged himself in between their legs, as if determined to be a part of the moment. She was sure Sully was going to kiss her now, but he didn’t.
Instead, he cupped her face with one hand and said, “At the risk of sounding proprietary, and not really caring if I do, I need to be clear that you’re dating just me, no one else—particularly, no Englishmen.”
“You’re not a good sharer, huh?” she asked.
“Not when it comes to you,” he said.
He looked vulnerable making the declaration, letting her know how much she mattered to him, and it melted Lindsey’s heart just that much more. She threw her toothbrush over her shoulder and wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.
“That’s all right. When it comes to you, I, too, am not a good sharer. I’m sorry, but you’re not allowed to date any Englishmen either.”
The grin he sent her was blinding. Then he kissed her. It was the sort of kiss that staked a claim and made promises about forever, and while she loved to revisit the memory, as it still made her toes curl, she tried not to overthink it.
They’d been dating for the past few months and Lindsey could not remember a time when she’d been this happy. Because it was so fragile and new, they had kept it quiet, seeing each other on the sly and never in public, and Lindsey was glad.
She had wanted to keep it just between them for as long as possible before other people’s opinions started to shape and color what they had. But now, now they were out there again, back in the public eye. She took a moment to savor that. It felt right and she was happy. She loved him. She wasn’t ready to tell him just yet, but she was getting really, really close.
She glanced back down at the yearbook in her lap. Teenage Sully grinned at her and she couldn’t help but grin back. Suddenly everything seemed possible.
She shook her head and flipped through the pages of the book, studying the candid shots for glimpses of Candice Whitley. She went through the other books as well. In several of them, Benji Gunderson was helping his girlfriend. Lindsey studied his face and the expression in his eyes when he looked at Candice. He looked like a young man in love.
Lastly, she found Matthew Mercer’s portraits. His hair was a thick thatch of black and he seemed to be looking past the photographer at something behind him. It made for an eerie portrait, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes that gave him more the look of a lost puppy than a look of menace. Lindsey could understand why a teacher would feel compelled to look out for him.
She glanced at the small description beside Matthew’s picture. It was a few lines of poetry that she suspected were his own.
It read: Love from afar is an unopened letter, to leave the contents unknown makes nothing better . . .
Lindsey knew that poetry was open to interpretation, but this one seemed most definitely to be about the anguish of unrequited love. She took the book to the copier and ran off a copy. She had a feeling Emma would want to see this. No, it didn’t prove anything, but Lindsey couldn’t help but think that it gave some insight into the emotional state of Matthew Mercer.
“Boss, I’m heading over to the high school to show the librarian how to sign the students up for library cards,” Paula said as she approached the reference desk. “I was thinking I’d give her a stack of flyers for our summer programs, too.”
“Great idea,” Lindsey said. She glanced at the clock. Ann Marie was due back in five minutes. “If you can wait a couple of minutes, I’ll come with you.”
Paula squinted at her. “You think I need help?”
“No, nothing like that,” she said.
Paula studied her for a second and then shook her head as if she had just figured out that Lindsey had another agenda entirely and she knew better than to ask.
“It’ll take me a few minutes to get my things together,” Paula said. “Meet you by the back door.”
“Sounds good,” Lindsey said. She carried the yearbooks back to her office and locked them in her desk. She wasn’t sure why, but since they were the property of the historical society and not the library she felt the need to be extra cautious with them. As she tucked the key to her desk back in the side pocket of her purse, she felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle.
There it was again, the feeling that she was being watched. She glanced out the window of her office and saw Ann Marie walking toward her door. So that explained the feeling. Obviously, Ann Marie was looking for her. She blew out a breath in relief.
“Lindsey, so glad I caught you,” Ann Marie said as she popped into her office. She gestured toward the window. “I caught sight of Beth through the shelves and thought she was you.”
Lindsey glanced toward where she pointed and saw Beth walking through the stacks, wearing Lindsey’s purple vest, the one that was supposed to be for her gamers’ prom but now looked like it had gone into rotation in Beth’s regular wardrobe. She shook her head. Borrowing clothes and both of them dating—it was like they were roommates all over again.
She wondered if that was the sort of relationship Judy Elrich and Candice Whitley had shared. Judging by the pictures in the yearbook, it was, and she felt a pang of sympathy for Judy. She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if anything happened to Beth. And to lose a friend in such a horrible way—Lindsey wasn’t sure how a person ever got over that. She suspected Judy still hadn’t.
Which made Lindsey wonder if Judy had heard the rumors about Candice having an affair with Principal Larsen. Lindsey was sure she had, but she also figured that Judy must not believe them. After all, how could Judy work for him now if she believed or knew such an awful thing about him before?
Then again, someone believed the rumors. Why else had the Larsens been robbed? Lindsey was determined to find the connection.
“Lindsey, hello?” Ann Marie waved her hand in front of Lindsey’s face.
“Oh, sorry, I missed what you said.”
“Uh-huh, I got that.” Ann Marie nodded. Then she smiled. “I just wanted to let you know I saw Herb Gunderson headed this way.”
“If he asks for me, I’m at a meeting,” Lindsey said, and she ducked out the back to meet Paula.
Hannah was waiting for them when they arrived. It was the end of her day; even the maker-space students had cleared out.
“Can I offer either of you a chai tea?” she asked. “I make it myself with fennel, cardamom, cloves and a bunch of other stuff, including Darjeeling tea.”
“Yes, please,” Paula said. “That is the perfect antidote for the post-rain dreariness out there.”
She pointed her thumb at the window. The skies were still dark from the earlier rain but the clouds were moving swiftly and not lingering o
r dropping any more moisture.
“Sounds great,” Lindsey agreed.
“Excellent,” Hannah said. She gestured for them to follow her into the workroom, which housed a small kitchen. “Now, are you sure you trust me to sign these kids up? I’m pretty loosey goosey around here and just use their student IDs for book checkout.”
“Sure we do,” Lindsey said. “This town is small enough for us to hunt down an overdue teen.”
“Okay, then,” Hannah said. “I had nightmares about Ms. Cole coming after me for not following protocol, but if you’re certain . . .”
“We are,” Lindsey and Paula said together.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let her bully you,” Paula said. “Especially since you’ve taken two of my four cats and are open to visitation by me and Momma cat.”
Hannah smiled. “Always.”
A few months ago, Paula, with the help of Lindsey’s dog Heathcliff, had found a mother cat and three kittens in an abandoned fishing shack. Together they had rescued them before disaster struck. It was a bond and Lindsey knew how much Paula had come to love her small herd of cats.
Lindsey looked at Paula in surprise. “Hannah took two of the kittens?”
Paula nodded. “It was tough, but it was just too much. So I kept Momma and Sissy, the girl kitten, and she took the boys.”
“Fred and George,” Hannah said. “They’ve only destroyed four rolls of toilet paper, the back of my armchair, and two curtains so far so I think they’re acclimating—you know, if shredding is indicative of kitten contentment.”
When Hannah went to go get some extra mugs from her office, Lindsey looked at Paula and said, “You two seem to have this in hand, so I’m just going to—”
“Snoop,” Paula interrupted her.
Lindsey gave her an affronted look. She wasn’t annoyed, just surprised that in the few months she’d worked there Paula had gotten her number so easily.
“That obvious, huh?”
Paula nodded. “But it’s all right; go do what you have to do. I’m happy here with Hannah.”
Lindsey studied her clerk for a moment.
“So that’s how it is?” she asked.
“Maybe,” Paula said. Then she smiled and Lindsey patted her on the shoulder.
“Good for you,” she said. “I’ll be back shortly, but if you need me call my cell.”
“Okay, boss,” Paula said. Then she grabbed Lindsey’s hand and added, “Be careful.”
“Always.”
Lindsey slipped out the door before Hannah returned, trusting Paula to make her excuses to the librarian.
The last time she’d been here she’d wanted to talk to Judy, but this time she was setting her sights higher. This time she wanted to talk to Principal Larsen.
She left the library and hurried downstairs to the front office. When they had arrived, the principal’s office door was closed, so she hadn’t been able to see if he was in, but she was hoping if she loitered in the office long enough she might be able to find out if he was available.
Lindsey pushed through the glass door with the enthusiasm of an adventure-story heroine starting out on a quest but stumbled to a halt as soon as the door shut behind her.
“Hello, Lindsey,” Chief Plewicki said. She was standing at the front counter beside the sign-in sheet. “Imagine meeting you here.”
“Uh . . .” Lindsey stalled. She glanced away from Emma’s scrutiny and then back. She shook her head. She didn’t need to feel guilty or be intimidated. She was here on library business. “Actually, given that I’m working with Hannah, the high school librarian, on a project, it’s not really that surprising.”
Emma gave her a flat stare. Michelle Maynard, the petite middle-aged woman who ran the school’s front office, gave Lindsey an alarmed look that indicated she thought Lindsey was in deep trouble. Then she hurried back to her desk and hid behind her computer monitor, obviously not wanting to get in trouble by association.
Suddenly, Lindsey felt like she was fourteen and had been sent to the office for skipping class—which had never ever happened—and she found she had new sympathy for the school rule breakers.
She stiffened her spine. She was not going to be intimidated. “It’s true. Hannah is helping us issue library cards to all of the freshmen to keep them reading this summer. You know, to improve the literacy rate in our community.”
Emma pursed her lips. Lindsey knew she had her on the ropes. She reached into her purse, looking for one of the summer program flyers. Instead, she found Matthew Mercer’s poem from the yearbook.
“What’s that?” Emma asked.
Lindsey shoved it down in her purse and grabbed a flyer. She handed it to Emma. The chief looked from it to her.
“This looks good,” she said. Lindsey felt herself relax. “But I was talking about the other thing. It looked like a page from a yearbook.”
Lindsey huffed out a breath. What was it Daniels had said about being like a dog with a bone? Emma had them both beat. She was a boa constrictor squeezing the facts right out of her.
“It’s just something I found in an old yearbook. I was actually planning on showing it to you later.”
“I have time now,” Emma said.
Lindsey opened her purse and pulled out the page. She handed it to Emma, who scanned it with interest.
“Matthew Mercer,” she said. “Candice’s prize student.”
“I thought the poem was of particular interest,” Lindsey said.
Emma read the words and then glanced at Lindsey. “Sounds like a case of unrequited love.”
“By all accounts, Candice Whitley was the only person who took an interest in him,” Lindsey said. “If this poem is about her, it could be that he was in love with her and she rebuffed him, and . . .”
“He killed her,” Emma said. “I thought the same, but I’ve been over the case files and Mercer had a solid alibi. He was taking the PSAT exam at the time of her murder. I saw the paperwork, timed and date stamped. He’s clear.”
“Someone has to be lying,” Lindsey said. “There is a reason the four houses that were broken into all have a connection to Candice’s murder. Someone wants this case reopened.”
“But who?” Emma asked. “And why?”
“To bring her killer to justice,” Lindsey said.
Lindsey and Emma stared at each other. Lindsey could tell that Emma believed what she was saying but was frustrated because there were no leads to follow, no clear direction to take, no smoking gun to be found.
“I’m right about this,” Lindsey said. “That book was not a coincidence.”
“Maybe,” Emma said. “I have been trying to find both Mercer and Gunderson. I want to know where they were on amnesty day. So far, I have not heard back from either of them, which is not a big surprise as any lawyer worth his six-minute billing cycle would advise them not to say anything unless it is forced out of them by a court of law. Still, I’ll keep trying.”
The door to the principal’s office opened and James Larsen stepped out with his wife, Karen. He started at the sight of Emma, which Lindsey found to be an interesting reaction.
“Chief Plewicki.” Karen Larsen strode forward. “I am so sorry. Have we kept you waiting?”
She was a petite, pretty woman and wore her thick brown hair in a half-up-and-down sort of hairdo that looked effortless. Her slender figure looked very modern housewife in a collared cotton blouse paired with skinny jeans and calf-hugging brown boots.
“No, actually, I just arrived,” Emma said. “I was talking to Lindsey—you know, our town librarian—about her summer programming.”
Lindsey gave Karen a small wave. Karen and James weren’t regular library users but Lindsey had seen them about town enough to recognize them.
“Nice to see you,” Karen said. She shook Lindsey’s hand in a warm, firm grasp. H
er husband stepped forward and did the same.
“Hannah tells us you’re signing up all of our freshmen for library cards,” he said. “Great idea.”
“Thank you.” She took a moment to study him.
James Larsen looked like a principal. In a dress shirt with the cuffs folded back, a tie in the school colors of red and blue, and charcoal gray trousers, he wore the uniform of a man who wielded authority comfortably. His close-cropped gray hair and kind brown eyes also made him appear wise and compassionate.
Lindsey had heard that the students liked him and she could see why. He seemed like the sort of man you could trust to give sound advice and just discipline when it was deserved.
“What’s the news?” Karen asked Emma.
Emma tipped her head to the side, clearly confused.
“About the robbery at our house,” Karen said. “I do hope there’s some news. I haven’t been able to sleep a wink knowing that some stranger walked around in my house and touched my things. It’s just so creepy.”
“I’m sorry, Karen,” Emma said. “I’m still waiting on the results of the partial print we got off your glass door, but as soon as I have news, I’ll be in touch. I’m actually here for a different matter. I need to speak with you, James, about one of your teachers.”
He looked at Emma in alarm. “Is someone on my staff in trouble?”
“No, it’s about a former employee,” Emma said. “I need to talk to you about Candice Whitley.”
Lindsey did not think she imagined it when James’s face went a few shades paler and he seemed to stagger on his feet a bit. She wondered if Emma caught it, too. If she did she didn’t show it, and Lindsey made a mental note to never play poker with the chief of police.
“Oh, that poor woman,” Karen said. “I remember her and that horrible, horrible night.”
James put his hand on his wife’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Karen turned to her husband with her brow furrowed in sadness. “She was such a good teacher and just a lovely person, inside and out. It was the worst sort of tragedy with no rhyme or reason, just devastation. Personally, I always felt like her boyfriend, Benji, was involved.”
Better Late Than Never Page 17
