Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
T
hat had been very interesting, Willow thought to herself as she worked. Or tried to. She was distracted as hell.
That proprietary hand Tripp had put on her shoulder. Almost as if he’d been claiming her in front of Blaine, after just having told her he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship with her.
Now she was even more confused. And annoyed. What the hell did he want?
Beth, the head librarian, breezed into the room, looking a bit frazzled. “How’s it going?”
“Great. You good?”
“Yeah, just a bit run off my feet so far this morning, and I’ve got story time for thirty-plus four-year-olds starting in five minutes. Did you finish up inputting that last stack of new books yet?”
“Yes, about ten minutes ago. I’m just checking this next batch in, then I’ll shelve everything.”
“Oh, fantastic, I was hoping to read them the latest by a local author.” Beth’s smile was full of relief as she headed for the cart where Willow had organized all the new children’s books that had just come in. “You’re a godsend. Can you stay on forever? I’ll make them pay you, of course.”
She laughed. “Think you could put up with me for that long?”
“Only one way to find out, but I would endeavor to endure it somehow.” Beth winked at her and sauntered off with the cart to greet the incoming group. “Wish me luck.”
“You won’t need it.” Beth was the perfect local librarian. Organized, a voracious reader herself, and passionate about inspiring young readers, in addition to helping people find their perfect book.
Willow set a stack of books back onto the cart beside her desk and reached for the next. The one on top she recognized straight away because it had been checked in and out several times already since she’d begun volunteering here.
Pacific Northwest Guide to Local Flora and Fauna.
Not exactly a page turner. Odd that it was so popular. Maybe a scout or girl guide group were using it to earn badges or something?
She scanned the barcode on the spine. The computer pulled up the book information, along with the checkout history.
Sure enough, it had been checked out multiple times over the past three weeks by just a handful of people, according to the list of library card numbers listed next to each interaction. The same people, over and over, more than a dozen times this month alone.
Weird.
She opened the cover and flipped through the pages to check the condition as she did with every return. Stopped when a bookmark fluttered to the ground. She bent to pick it up, stilled when she flipped it over and saw the symbol stamped at the bottom of it.
The exact same one that had been on the laminated sheet in the ammo cache. And the lines of script scrawled on it looked the same as the coded language she’d seen on the sheet too.
Taking out her phone, she found her picture of the sheet to compare them, just to be sure.
To her eye they appeared to be a perfect match.
Willow looked up, glanced around to make sure no one else was watching, then got up and quickly walked into the empty break room to call the sheriff’s office. “Hi, it’s Willow. I need to speak to the sheriff. It’s urgent.”
“I’m sorry, Willow, he’s out of the station on an investigation. But I’ll message him and let him know to call you when he’s free.”
“Thank you.” She ended the call and texted Rafe herself, taking and sending a picture of the bookmark. As soon as it went through, she returned to her desk and flipped through the rest of the book to see if there was anything else hidden in it.
Finding nothing else, she created her own library account and checked it out herself to hand it in as possible evidence. She held off on texting Tripp, knowing she would see him in a few hours anyway.
She continued with her work, watching for anything else suspicious, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the bookmark. The script was odd. She couldn’t make sense of it.
Nothing more tripped her radar, and she was actually a little disappointed. She’d been hoping for some other clue that might give them more information or maybe help them break the code.
By the time she’d finished up, it was a little after one. She messaged Tripp to say she was done and was heading over to the sheriff’s office.
Everything okay? he answered.
I’ll fill you in when you get here.
She tucked the book into her bag, said her goodbyes, and headed up the street toward the sheriff’s station. Partway there, she heard someone call out her name and turned to find a familiar figure striding toward her. “Earl! Oh my goodness, how are you?”
“I’m just fine.” He gave her a gentle hug and set her away from him to smile at her.
He looked the same, fit and well-groomed, his short gray hair and beard trimmed neatly, wearing his trademark Marine Corps hat.
“How are you, young lady? I guess the rumors are true. You’ve moved into your grandmother’s place? ”
“I have. Mae tell you?”
The hint of a grin tugged at his lips. “Good guess.”
“Ha, sure it was.”
“Also heard you had a bit of trouble at your place last night.”
“Wow. Word travels fast.”
“You know how it is here. It’s a small island.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah, but you have a way of always knowing what’s going on.”
“I know all kinds of secrets,” he said with a wink, but something in his words struck her as slightly troubling. “Are you being careful?”
A tiny ripple of unease skittered through her. What did he know that he wasn’t telling her? “Of course. Tripp’s helping me.”
His expression darkened when she said his name.
The abrupt shift in his mood, his palpable disapproval or even anger startled her a little. She’d always viewed him as a sort of protective, grandfatherly figure. Had never seen this side of him before and didn’t like it at all.
“Tripp?” he said.
“Yes.” She frowned at him in confusion, not understanding his reaction.
“He let me stay at his house last night, and he’s looking into getting an alarm and cameras set up for me.
” She glanced left just as Tripp’s truck pulled over to the side of the road, relief sliding through her. “There he is now. See you later, Earl.”
“Sure. You take care of yourself.” He looked past her, staring directly at Tripp as he said it.
“I will.” So weird.
Tripp popped the passenger door open for her. She climbed in, smiled at him to dispel the strange tension in her belly. “Hi.”
“Hey.” But he was staring past her through her open window at something.
She glanced over. Earl still stood on the sidewalk where she’d left him, his expression hard and icy as he held Tripp’s stare. “Tripp.”
“Earl.” Tripp’s tone was clipped. He pulled away from the curb without another word, heading up the street toward the sheriff’s office. “What did he say to you?”
Willow glanced in the side mirror. Earl hadn’t moved, watching them drive off.
“Nothing. He was just asking what happened last night. What was that all about?” she asked.
The odd animosity between them had taken her off guard.
Earl had his quirks, but he had a big heart and had always been kind to her when their paths crossed over the years. And to Peyton.
Tripp’s jaw flexed before he answered. “Let’s just say we’re not on the best of terms.”
There was a wealth of buried anger in his words. Or resentment. “Why, what—”
“What happened at the library? You sure you’re okay?”
She let the Earl thing go. For now. “Yeah, I’m fine. I found something Rafe needs to see that I think is linked to the cache and break-in. A bookmark. I’ll show you when we get inside.”
Thankfully, Rafe had just arrived back at the station. He told his assistant to let them in, and waved them into his office as he finished a phone call. “Sorry I didn’t call you back yet,” he said as he set his phone down on his desk. “It’s been a crazy twelve hours.”
“Anything to do with an update on my case?”
“Nothing yet, unfortunately. What’ve you got for me?”
“This.” She pulled out the book, opened it to show the bookmark, and then slid her phone with the picture of the laminated sheet across the desk for him to compare while Tripp looked on.
“I found this, and it’s an exact match. Or at least I think it is.
It’s a relatively unremarkable book and over a decade old, but it’s been checked out a ridiculous number of times over the past few weeks.
By the same handful of people. I’ll admit this might sound a bit out there, but I think the people behind the cache might be using this to communicate with each other. ”
“Holy shit,” Tripp murmured, studying the bookmark. “You’re a detective on top of being an archivist and artist.”
She shrugged, ridiculously warmed by his praise. “Must be all those mystery books I’ve read over the years. And there’s a record of who checked it out. But look.” She pushed the bookmark closer. “See? That symbol at the bottom. It’s the same as on the cache sheet too.”
Rafe nodded, frowning. “Not many people impress me, Will, but you’ve done it again. Any idea what it means?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. I was hoping there would be some sort of cypher or whatever hidden in the book as well, but I didn’t find anything. I’m guessing you probably don’t have a cryptologist on staff?”
Rafe gave a wry smile. “Not included in our budget, unfortunately. Although... Actually, I might know someone who can help.” He looked up at Tripp. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Tripp nodded. “I’ll call him.”
“Who?” Willow asked, staring as Tripp pulled out his phone and made a call.
“Blaine,” he answered. “He’s got a secret weapon that might be able to crack this mystery wide open.”