7. Elijah
The damage to the library is substantial.
Shelves are pushed over, leaving books scattered everywhere. Mrs. McGinley’s employee lounge was ransacked as well, dumping her trash can upside down and scattering the garbage all over the place. Someone threw her coffee machine on the floor, shattering it to pieces.
The older woman is visibly shaken and beyond furious. Especially since whoever did this dumped what water bottles she had in storage all over some of the books, destroying them. “I just can’t understand why someone would do such a thing!” she exclaims.
My mind immediately goes to Rebecca. What kind of coincidence is it that this happens right after Edna leaves all of her books to her oldest friend?
“Easy, Carmen,” Juniper Kline says as she wraps an arm around Mrs. McGinley’s shoulders. The two women have been best friends since grade school. And given they are both in their eighties now, it makes that type of friendship quite a feat. They, along with Edna, have been inseparable as long as I’ve known them.
My heart aches just thinking about her.
“Do you know if anything is missing?” Lance questions. The former Ranger was my commander back when we’d served. He’s one man I would follow straight into combat and not think twice about it, so coming to work for him only made sense.
“How could I tell?” Mrs. McGinley asks.
“Looks like some teens just got in here and took out their frustration.” Michael crosses his arms as he surveys the damage.
“No. This was intentional,” I say as I kneel in front of the door.
“That’s my thought as well,” Lance replies.
“But why?” Mrs. McGinley asks. “It’s a library. No one would have come in to steal anything because anything they could have taken, they could have done for free by simply checking it out!”
“Clearly, they wanted whatever they took to be a secret, Carmen. We’ve seen Murder She Wrote. We know how they cover things up.” Juniper offers me a nod in agreement with my suspicions.
I bite back a half-smile.
“If the alarm was triggered and there was no damage, what would you have done?” Michael asks.
“A catalog check to see what was taken,” Mrs. McGinley replies.
“Which is why they destroyed the place.” Lance crosses his arms. “Could be they were covering what they took. How long will it take you to sort through this?” he asks her.
“This mess?” she exclaims. “Weeks. A month even. Unless I can get Johnny to help.” Her grandson is a good kid. And one who will come running the second his grandmother asks for help. “Then it will probably be about a week of sorting.” She bends down and lifts a damaged book from the floor. “My poor books.”
The sadness in her voice deepens the ache in my chest. “Can you get me a list of all of the books you have?”
“Yes, of course. Eliza helped me go digital last month, so I can email it over to you.” She sets the book on a partially toppled shelf, taking great care despite the fact that its water-logged pages will likely never be read again.
“Great. I can narrow it down to what they may have taken with that. Then we can double-check it against what you find.”
“Grandma?”
“Over here!” Mrs. McGinley calls out. She quickly wipes her eyes as Johnny comes around the corner. His hazel eyes are a near-perfect match to his grandmother’s and father’s, and they survey the damage with shock and anger.
“Who did this?” he demands. A high-school senior, he’s mere months away from leaving for college out in Texas. He’d had a temper the size of the Lone Star state until his father had pushed him into football. Now the kid is a star quarterback and will be joining the Texas AM football team next year.
“We’re trying to figure it out,” Lance says.
“Can you help her get things cleaned up?” Michael asks. “We need to know if anything is missing.”
“Of course.” Johnny wraps his arm around his grandmother’s shoulders, and she leans into him. “Anything you need, Grandma. I’ll let Felix know that I’ll need some time off.”
“I’m going to head out. Need to go pick up Rachel from school,” Mrs. Kline says as she smiles at Johnny. “Let me know what you need. I’ll be by tomorrow morning after drop-off to help get started on the cleanup.”
“Thank you, Juni,” Mrs. McGinley says.
Mrs. Kline carefully makes her way out of the library, and Johnny guides his grandmother over to a chair.
“You have that look,” Lance says as he and Michael close in on me.
“What look?”
“The one that says you have a theory,” Michael replies.
“I think it was Rebecca.”
“Edna’s daughter?” Lance asks.
“Yes. She was at the will reading and was furious that she’d only gotten dinner plates. This could be revenge.”
“From what you said though, she was angrier with you and Andie. Why not start there?”
“She cornered me at the diner,” I say. “And we have no way of knowing?—”
Sirens screech outside, cutting me off as the sheriff’s car, a fire truck, and an ambulance rush past the library. Adrenaline shoots through me, and I rush for the door, treating the fallen books like rubble in a war zone.
They make a right and disappear down a side street. Toward Edna’s house.
I cannot explain the feeling that takes over, but I know—without a doubt—Andie is in trouble. Without looking back, I sprint up the street, making a run for the three-block distance between her house and the library.
As I come around the corner, body slick with sweat, thanks to the humid heat, I survey the scene before me. Andie stands on the lawn with the sheriff and one of his deputies. The house’s massive picture window is shattered, glass shards likely covering the living room.
Gunshot? Did someone try to kill her?
Was it an accident and someone else called the cops?
Before I can speculate further, Michael’s motorcycle rumbles past me, and he parks it right in front of the house. Lance’s truck follows, and I suddenly feel like a fool for running here when I could have just jumped into my car.
By the time I reach the scene, Andie has just finished giving her statement.
She looks more angry than scared, and when that emerald gaze lands on me, her anger deepens. “What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I heard the sirens,” I reply. “What happened?”
“As I told your coworker here, it’s none of your concern. I’m not in need of private security.” She gestures to Michael, who looks beside himself amused.
“And if you remember, Andie, this is my house too. Therefore, it makes it my concern.”
She would kill me if she could. I can see it in her eyes.
“Someone threw a brick through the window then drove off,” Sheriff Vick says.
“Not someone. Rebecca,” Andie corrects.
The library. Now this? It fits.
“You saw her?” I ask, already prepared to arrest her myself.
“Well. No. Not exactly. But who else would have done it?” She directs her question at the sheriff, who jots something down on his notepad.
“As I told you, Miss Montgomery, we will do a thorough investigation, and if Rebecca is responsible, she will be held accountable.”
“If she is responsible?” Andie scoffs. “You’ve known me my entire life. Which means you know her. Do you seriously think I don’t know my mother’s handiwork when I see it? She’s angry because I got the house.”
“We got the house,” I correct.
Andie glares.
Michael chuckles.
Even Lance appears to be amused.
“Fine. We got the house. When she’s mad, she throws tantrums.” Andie gestures to the window. “This is a temper tantrum.”
“The library could have been a temper tantrum, too,” I say.
“The library? What happened at the library?”
“It was trashed,” I reply. “Have you collected the brick for evidence?” I ask Sheriff Vick.
“Not yet. We’re leaving everything where it is until I can get some pictures.”
“May I?” I gesture toward the house.
“Go for it,” he replies.
“You’re seriously going to let him walk into an active crime scene?”
“He knows what he’s doing,” he says.
“Debatable,” Andie snaps but doesn’t argue further.
I move carefully into the house, surveying the damage. Glass covers nearly every square inch of the living room, and the brick landed over halfway inside. Which means that whoever threw it has an impressive arm on them.
“That’s way too far for Rebecca to have thrown it,” Michael comments. “I even have my doubts she could have leveled the library the way someone did.”
“My thoughts exactly.” But if it wasn’t Rebecca, who could have done it?
“Which way were they driving?” Lance calls out.
“West,” the sheriff replies.
Lance surveys the damage again.
“What are you thinking?” Michael asks.
“Let’s pretend for a minute that we didn’t think Rebecca could have trashed the library. It’s still entirely possible that whoever caused that damage could be the one behind this too.”
“That seems a bit farfetched,” Michael says, brow furrowed. “If not for Rebecca, what would both scenes have in common?”
“Possibly nothing,” Lance replies. “Could very well be they picked a random house and threw it, hoping to overwhelm the small-town police force.”
“Eh, still seems a little farfetched,” I say. “But not impossible. Have you pulled anything off the library break-in yet?” I call out. They’d been there when we arrived, just finishing up their preliminary on the scene.
“Not yet. Haven’t even had time to look.” Sheriff Vick takes off his hat and runs a hand over his hair. “We’d just gotten back to the station when we got the call on this.”
“Which could have bought whoever did it just enough time to disappear and put some distance between them and this town.” Lance turns and leaves the house.
A soft meow comes from the bedroom, so I cross over to lift Aggie as he peeks around the corner. Glass crunches beneath my boots, making me glad the cat didn’t try to run out here. Poor guy would have sliced his paws up.
“You scared, bud? You’ll be all right.” I carry him into the bedroom and put him on the bed, noting an open wooden box full of letters.
Without perusing them, I close the door, leaving the cat safely inside for the time being.
“The library was destroyed?” Andie looks genuinely troubled by the news. Which makes sense, I suppose, given that Mrs. McGinley and Edna have been best friends since before she was born. She likely knows the woman nearly as well as she knew her grandmother.
“It was,” the sheriff confirms.
“And you think it was Rebecca who did it?” she asks Lance.
“Possibly. But I don’t think it was her who threw the brick through your window.”
She mutters something under her breath. “I know what I saw.”
“What you saw was a nondescript sedan driving by your house. You didn’t see Rebecca throw it,” the sheriff says.
”Given the distance the brick made it inside, I doubt it was her, too,” I add, hoping to pull some of Andie’s fury from the good sheriff.” My bet is on a man. One who probably played baseball or football.”
“A sportsman? That’s who you’ve narrowed it down to? Wow. Your investigative skills are top-notch, Mr. Breeth. Seriously.” She shifts her glare to the sheriff. “Find my mother. Otherwise, she’s going to slip town before you can pin this on her. If she’s even still here to begin with.”
His cell goes off before he can respond, so he pulls it out. “Sheriff Vick. Okay. Thanks, Alex.” He ends the call and slips it back into his pocket. “I called in your suspicion, and Deputy Lake just spotted your mother at the diner. Alex called to let me know she’s been there all morning. Ever since you left,” he points to Elijah.
Andie whirls on me. “You were with my mother at the diner?”
“I was eating at the diner and your mother sat at my booth.”
She scoffs. “No wonder you pushed for her innocence. I guess congratulations are in order seeing as how you’ll likely be husband number seven. Here’s hoping this one sticks.” She crosses her fingers and rolls her eyes as she pushes past me and into the house.
“She hates you.”
I turn toward Lance. “Thanks for the update. I hadn’t realized.”
Sheriff Vick chuckles. “Get some pictures of the inside; then bag that brick,” he tells his deputy. “You boys think it could be Rebecca Montgomery who trashed the library?”
“That or someone was looking for something,” Lance says.
“I hadn’t considered Rebecca. But the theory that someone was looking for something is one that crossed my mind too. Far too much damage to be vandalism in this town.” He sighs. “I’ll get working on prints and speak to Rebecca. Although I’m fairly certain it wasn’t her.”
“She could have hired someone. Then stayed at the diner as her own alibi,” Michael says.
“This is true.” He lifts his hat to run a hand through his hair again. “See you boys later. Call if you find anything.”
“Will do.”
As soon as he’s out of earshot, Lance and Michael turn to me. Neither of them says a word, though their expressions reflect exactly what they’re thinking.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. In over my head. See you both later.” I head up the walk and into the house. As I step inside, I silently pray, Dear God. Please help me. This woman hates me, and I can’t stand her. Please grant me the grace I need to deal with her. Amen.