by Hillary Avis
The puppies finished eating and she rose from her chair to take them outside. A smile spread across her face, and it wasn’t just because Venus rolled over and wiggled on her back in the yard, her eyes blissfully shut as her little tail swished through the grass. It was because Leroy had made a mistake when he didn’t turn in those boxes as evidence. Once Allison got them back, there’d be no proof she’d had stolen them to begin with. Zack wouldn’t press charges, not now that he knew why she took them. And Leroy had no proof they were ever in his possession.
It’d be the perfect crime...if she could just figure out how to pull it off. She needed to break in without leaving a trace. And she knew just the person to help her figure out how to do it.
Chapter 30
Sunday
“Tell me about your craziest case. I bet you’ve seen some things. I want to hear about all the criminal masterminds.” Allison leaned toward Kara, nudging her so-called “bottomless” blueberry Bellini toward her. Kara was on her second refill and maybe the alcohol would help loosen her tongue. Myra shot Allison a disapproving look when Kara picked up the delicate champagne flute and rolled the stem between her fingers before finishing it off.
“Well, when I was still living in Honolulu, there was this fancy house on the water. The owner was some mainlander who only came once a year. He had a whole fancy alarm system, but he paid the department to do drive-bys every night to check on it. Rent-a-cop stuff. They made the new recruits do it, so of course I drew the short straw when I joined the department. The chief made a big deal about how it was haunted. He had a whole story about the ghost of a drowned surfer who combed her hair every night in an upstairs window. A bunch of the other guys backed it up and said they’d seen the ghost, too.”
Allison nodded absentmindedly. A ghost story would be fun under different circumstances, but right now she needed a criminal mastermind, not a tall tale.
“Probably just trying to scare you,” Myra chuckled. “Everyone’s got a ghost story, but I’ve never heard one that turned out to be true.”
Kara nodded and opened her eyes wide, her voice lowered like she was afraid someone would overhear. “That’s what I thought. But on my first night, when I drove by, I saw her! A little upstairs window was glowing, and inside, someone was combing their long hair! Someone was inside, but the door and window alarms hadn’t been triggered.”
Allison gasped. She’d never believed in ghosts, but now that she was the guardian of a magic library of memories and had even written memories into other people’s minds, she had little doubt that anything was possible.
Kara nodded. “I know. I almost peed in my seat.”
“What’d you do?” Allison forgot all about the Dutch baby deflating in front of her and leaned forward toward Kara.
She shrugged. “I parked in the driveway and knocked on the door.” She took a bite of her omelet and grinned around it.
Myra’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t! I would have driven out of there so fast!”
“I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,” Allison teased.
Myra made a face at her. “I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m not afraid of whoever the heck was in there! Someone obviously broke in.”
Kara made an exasperated noise. “You spoiled my punchline!”
“So it was somebody in there.” Myra sat back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest, her face smug. “I told you it wasn’t a ghost. Probably a squatter.”
“You should be a cop.” Kara poked the corner of a piece of toast in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “That’s exactly what it was. Some lady was living there the whole time.”
Allison’s ears perked up. Maybe this ghost story would be useful, after all, if the squatter had managed to get inside the house without breaking a window. “Why didn’t she set off the alarm?”
“That’s the hilarious part,” Kara said. “She swam in. The house was so fancy, it had one of those pools that’s half inside, half outside. She climbed over the back fence and just—” she broke off and made a diving motion. “She didn’t open any windows or doors, so she never set off the alarm.”
“Wow.” Allison injected as much wonder and amusement into her voice as she could. It was a great story—she was just disappointed that it wasn’t very relevant to her garden shed. As fancy as it was, Mrs. Gauss hadn’t installed a swim-in pool for her dahlia bulbs. Kara had to have other stories, though. She eyed Kara, who was flagging down the server to order a third refill on her Bellini. “So if you were going to break into a house like that, how would you do it so you wouldn’t get caught? Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically? Hm.” Kara tilted her head, thinking. “Break a window, probably. Although that’d set off the alarm. Maybe I’d find a way to get the alarm code first. Someone always has it.”
Myra smirked. “So you’d fly to the mainland, break into the guy’s house and find the alarm code, then fly back to Honolulu and break into his other house? That’s your plan? I’m starting to wonder if you’re in the right line of work.”
“Hey! I’d be a much better criminal if I were sober,” Kara protested, giggling. She paused momentarily as her drink refill arrived and, still laughing, took a sip. She rolled her eyes when she saw Myra frowning at her. “What? It’s fine. It’s the weekend. I don’t even have to work today.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not a problem. I’m concerned for you.”
“I’m not going to listen to this.” Kara’s cheeks flushed and she turned on Allison, her voice acid. “Can you please tell Madam Mitchell that she needs to shut up about it?”
“If you were my child and you dished that attitude to me, I’d lay you over my knee and whup your—” Myra began, but Allison shook her head.
“You spoil Crystal and the babies with love, and that’s what you’re trying to do here.” Allison turned to Kara. “We just care about you. We’re worried. You’re drinking on your lunch breaks, you’re hitting happy hour every afternoon.”
“That’s for work,” Kara protested. “I go to the bar to make connections in town, so people will talk to me.”
“And then you have wine in the evenings, right? And drinks in the morning, too?” All their eyes went to the empty champagne glass on the table.
“Only on Sundays!”
Allison sighed. “I think it’s time to acknowledge that you might have a problem. And I say that with love.”
Myra nodded in agreement. Kara’s blazing-hot glare turned ice cold as she got to her feet, clutching Pogo to her chest. “It sure doesn’t feel like love. It feels like you’re all trying to run me out of town, just like Leroy. It’s obvious you don’t want me here.” The pain in her voice was palpable.
Myra clucked her tongue. “Of course we do.”
“I don’t think he’s trying to run you off,” Allison added quietly.
Kara rolled her eyes. “He’s collecting evidence against me. Why would he be watching my every move if he wasn’t waiting for me to screw up?”
“Did you know that Leroy used to have a drug and alcohol problem?” Allison asked. “It got so bad a few years ago that his mom kicked him out of the house.”
Myra raised her eyebrows. “I always wondered why he moved out. You know how close they are. He’d do anything for her. She snaps her fingers and he’s there. So if there was a rift between them, it must have been serious.”
Allison nodded in agreement. “She must have realized she couldn’t enable his self-destruction. And it worked—he got his act together.”
“And you think that’s what he’s doing now? Threatening my job to save me from myself?” Kara whirled on Myra. “Is that what you’re doing? Making faces when I order a cocktail because you think it’ll help? You know, I was joking about you being a cop. Nobody knows how stressful it is. How much pressure I’m under every day. Everyone hates me. Everyone. Even regular law-abiding citizens don’t like me. So sue me if I need to let loose a little. It’s not a crime.”
“You’re not the only one with a high-pressure job,” Myra said drily.
Kara pushed back her chair, tossed a twenty on the table, and stood up, her face stony and flushed.
“Don’t go like this,” Allison said, her sympathy for Kara welling. “Myra’s right.”
“Right. I’m a drunk. An addict like Leroy was,” Kara spat. She maneuvered around the table to leave but then paused behind Allison, swaying slightly. Allison felt Kara’s knuckles graze her back as she steadied herself on the back of the chair. “Whoa. I feel...not good.”
Myra, who had a better view of what was going on behind Allison, was out of her seat like a lightning bolt and reached Kara just in time to help her back to her chair. She kneeled in front of Kara to take a pulse from her wrist and then, satisfied by whatever rhythm she’d detected, handed Kara a glass of ice water before she returned to her seat. “Take a minute and catch your breath.”
Kara sipped obediently, avoiding eye contact with either of them. After a few minutes, she raised her head, her chin jutting out defiantly. “Fine. I admit it. I might have overindulged today. You’re right, you’re all right, everyone is right, and I’m wrong.”
Allison sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that. When I said Myra was right, I meant that she has decades of experience working a stressful job. She might have some insight for you about how to balance it without relying on alcohol.” Kara opened her mouth to protest, but Allison held up her hand to stop her. “I’m not accusing you of addiction. I’m just saying you shouldn’t use it as the main tool for coping. I’d say the same if you were coming into my bakery to drown your sorrow in sugar cookies, too. There are better ways.”
Myra nodded. “Listen to your elders on this one.”
“You’re not elder,” Kara grumbled.
“Don’t deny my middle-aged wisdom!” Myra put her hands on her hips and mock-glowered at Kara. “I earned every bit of it the hard way.”
“Same,” Allison said, nodding. “We’re old so you have to listen to us.”
A grudging laugh escaped Kara’s lips, her defensive posture softening. “I still don’t like Leroy, though.”
Allison relaxed back in her chair, a broad grin spreading across her face. “That’s fine. I don’t, either.”
Chapter 31
Monday
After work, Allison sat with Paul while he ate his lunch, nabbing slices of apple off the edge of his tray until Myra swooped by with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and an extra biscuit.
“You don’t have to feed—” Allison began, but her stomach snarled, giving her away, and Myra just laughed.
“Don’t be stealing food from patients,” she admonished, winking at Paul on her way to the next table. As soon as Myra’s attention was on someone else, his face fell. He stirred his soup, watching the noodles float in a lazy spiral until Allison nudged him.
“Good thing this isn’t our first date,” she joked, trying to cajole him out of whatever funk he was in. “What’s wrong?”
He gave a halfhearted smile. “I don’t want to be anyone’s patient. I want to go home. I just wish I could remember it. What it looks like. My favorite chair. Our routines.”
She reached an arm around him, rubbing his back in slow circles as she leaned into his shoulder. “Well. That home is gone anyway. Eric Blankenship is going to rent that apartment out to someone else. But your favorite chair is in storage if you want it; it’s a burgundy recliner.”
“Sounds comfy.”
“It is.” She nudged him again and again until she jostled a smile out of him. “We’re going to bust you out of here, don’t worry. And I’m going to get your memories back really soon, I promise.”
His forehead creased and she swallowed the hard lump that formed in her throat. For some reason, he wasn’t happy about the idea.
“You’re still worried you might not love me once you remember our life together?”
He ducked a nod. “If it doesn’t work out, I don’t want to hurt you like I hurt—” He swallowed the end of his sentence.
“Michelle,” she finished for him. “What happened between you? I know you remember, Paul. You might as well just tell me.”
He rubbed his jaw, wincing. “It’s not a flattering memory, I’m afraid. You might walk away once you hear.”
She chuckled. “The funny thing is that if you could remember me, you’d know that I’d never walk away, no matter what. You’re going to have to trust me on this one.”
He regarded her for a minute so long that Allison could hear every second ticking away on the grandfather clock on the other side of the activity room. Finally, he gave a slow nod. “The summer between our junior and senior years, our parents told us we couldn’t see each other, but we were still meeting up in secret, down by Claypool Creek. We’d go swimming there in the afternoons, when I was done helping my parents at the Ryes & Shine and her dad was still at work.”
Allison raised an eyebrow. Claypool Creek was deep and fast; there’d been signs along the path beside it that warned against swimming for as long as she could remember. “Was it allowed back then?”
“No, but everyone did it.” He stopped, his eyes growing distant.
“So what happened?”
He snapped back to the present. “My mother caught me one day when I came home a few minutes late. Michelle and I had stayed longer in the water than we meant to, and my hair was still dripping wet. Mom grabbed me by the ear and gave me a thrashing I can still feel if I think too hard about it. She got the whole story out of me. The lying, the sneaking around. She said if I spoke with Michelle again, she’d send me to military school in Idaho. So I didn’t. Speak to her, I mean.”
Allison squeezed his shoulder. “That’s it? That’s what you were worried about?”
He shook his head. “It’s what happened after. I didn’t tell Michelle about getting caught. I didn’t tell her anything. So she showed up at the river the next day like everything was normal. But I didn’t.”
“So you stood her up. What’s the big deal?”
“She went swimming alone.” His blue eyes seemed to deepen with pain. “She was angry and acting reckless. The water swept her downstream. She got caught between a couple of logs and pinned. She’s lucky she didn’t drown, but her leg was crushed. She had to have six surgeries to put it all back together. Even at graduation the next year, she was still in a wheelchair.”
Allison sighed. “That’s not your fault. She made the choice to swim alone.”
“I should have been there, though. Or at least been decent and told her I couldn’t come.” Paul shook his head sadly, and Allison slipped an arm around him. “I broke a promise and she got hurt. And worse, I never apologized. I never even sent her a get-well card. I don’t remember ever speaking to her again until we sat there with her in the gazebo a couple weeks ago.”
Allison reached over to stroke the silver hair at his temples and was gratified when he didn’t pull away. “You did. She came in the bakery sometimes. It always seemed cordial between you. I didn’t even know you’d dated once upon a time. It was ancient history, even then.”
“It doesn’t feel ancient to me. It just hurts. How am I going to stand it when I have to feel everything from the last couple decades all at once?”
He was right to fear it. She’d felt the keen edge of loss so many times these past two years that she was well aware of the pain he’d feel. She had the scars to prove it. But Paul wouldn’t have a chance to heal after every little cut—it’d come all at once. Or at least, it’d come in a cascade, memory after memory, as fast as she could copy them into the books. Her breath caught. “Maybe you don’t have to.”
He turned his head quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t have to give you every memory back. We can pick and choose. I won’t have time to copy them all before a new guardian takes over, anyway. Maybe we can just leave some out. If you want,” she rushed to add. “I’m not trying to keep anything from you.”
&nbs
p; “Of course not. I didn’t even think that—although now that you’ve said it...” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “What secrets are you hiding?”
“None,” she said simply. “You know everything about me.”
“I only wish that were true.” He cupped her jaw in his hand and stared into her face like he was trying to read her mind, open it like one of the memory books and watch the contents.
She blushed and looked away, unable to withstand the intensity of his searching gaze. “It will be. I just have a little light B&E to do and then—”
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
She nodded, and he leaned in to leave a trail of gentle kisses from her temple to her lips. Blissful didn’t begin to describe the feeling.
“Your lunch is getting cold,” Myra teased from behind them.
Allison broke away from Paul and twisted around to grin at her. “I don’t know about that. I’m feeling pretty warm.”
SHE CHECKED HER VOICEMAIL on the walk home from work. Rachael had left a message—the puppies were scheduled for a vet appointment on Wednesday. Also, she had a potential lead on an adult dog. Allison hit the call-back button immediately and held the phone with her shoulder as she strode down the sidewalk toward Rosemary Street.
When Rachael answered, a chorus of barking drowned out her hello. “Do we need to reschedule the vet?” she yelled over the line.
“No, it’s fine. I can take them,” Allison said. “Tell me about the Lab you found.”
“Hang on.” The sound of barking dogs faded and instead rose a low murmur of clucks and quacks. Rachael must have moved from the kennels into the poultry barn. “OK. So this isn’t a perfect fit. I probably shouldn’t even mention it, but you know how it is—I have to say something when a dog captures my heart. I already know you’re going to say ‘no,’ so don’t feel bad about it.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Allison pushed open the gate, only half-listening as she headed inside. If the dog had a history of abuse and neglect, Rachael was right—it probably wouldn’t be a good fit for a chaotic farmstead with small children and livestock. With patience and time, sure, but Myra needed a dog who could fill Jenny’s shoes right away.
