Chapter 22
Harlow hurried to keep up with her father’s long strides. They stepped onto the back porch and walked into the laundry room.
David unscrewed the clamps securing their dryer vent connector. “Hold this.”
She gripped the vent, holding it upright while David eased the snippers into the vent and began banging them around. “This could have been it…the noise I heard the night of the fire.”
Harlow’s mind whirled. “Caleb and the fire investigator think an accelerant was tossed into the laundry room, causing an explosion and the fire. Someone could have used these, or something similar, to cut a hole.”
“The vents were commercial grade and heavy duty, making it tougher to cut through. Tougher but probably not impossible.” David clenched the snippers tightly in his hand. “It’s too late.”
“Caleb took pictures before everything was torn down. He’ll help us figure out if this tool is a clue.”
“I jumped the gun, giving the green light to gut the place. Looking back, I should have held off on leveling the inn. I could kick myself.” He walked straight into his office and closed the door.
Harlow paced, feeling the same jumble of emotions she was certain her father was feeling.
The multipurpose snippers could be a clue, but then maybe not.
Maybe a maintenance person had lost them while working at the inn, but what were the odds of them ending up near Ginger’s favorite place and final resting spot?
Ding…ding…ding…ding, ding, ding. Harlow’s cell phone app chimed, the new app her father had installed notifying her that someone was at Lighthouse Lane.
She glanced at the clock. It was still too early for the construction crew.
Harlow tapped the camera icon and pulled up the video display of all four sides of the cottage. A flit of movement passed by the camera, the one mounted in the back and facing the path.
She tapped the screen and enlarged a single frame. Sure enough, a figure wearing dark clothes—a jacket, jeans and a ball cap—darted past and began creeping around the corner.
Tapping the screen a second time, Harlow returned to the original format of all four cameras. The person crept along the side of the house. Frame by frame, they stealthily moved to the entrance and tried the doorknob.
Harlow held her breath, watching as the trespasser pulled an object from their pocket and inserted the end into the lock. Wiggling the doorknob back and forth, they finally opened it. With a furtive glance over their shoulder, they slipped inside Lighthouse Lane and closed the door behind them.
Her heart hammering in her chest, Harlow promptly dialed 911.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“Someone just broke into my house.”
“Where are you?”
“Watching them on camera from my father’s house.” Feeling a sense of panic setting in, Harlow forced her voice to remain calm. “I saw them pick the lock and go inside. They’re inside right now.”
“What is the address?”
She gave the woman her address. “The house is empty. I’m having it renovated.”
“What is your name?”
“Harlow Wynn.”
“Did you say Harlow Wynn?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“A patrol unit has been dispatched.”
“Thank you.” Harlow ended the call and ran to her father’s office. She hovered in front of the closed door, hesitating for a fraction of a second. At the very least, she needed to let him know she was leaving.
She sucked in a breath and rapped loudly.
A muffled thump echoed. The door slowly opened. David, with a lost look on his face, gazed blankly at her. “Did you need something?”
“The motion detector app on my phone went off. I saw someone pick the door lock and go inside Lighthouse Lane.”
“Just now?”
“Less than a minute ago. I called 911. They’re sending a patrol car over. I want to find out who it is.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll keep my distance.” Harlow reached for her keys.
Her father stopped her. “I won’t let you go by yourself.”
Wasting no time, father and daughter hurried out of the house. David grabbed his bike and met Harlow near the gate. Riding as fast as they could, they sped off down the main road and around the bend.
The ride moved in slow motion and all Harlow could do was pray that whoever had gone inside hung around long enough to get caught.
The lighthouse came into view and within seconds so did her soon-to-be home.
A patrol car, one of the few vehicles allowed on the island, sat in the driveway. As they drew closer, Harlow noticed lights blazing brightly inside the cottage.
David pulled ahead while she tapped the brake, veering right and passing by the patrol car.
Gripping the handlebars tightly, she glimpsed shadowy figures moving around. Harlow spotted a uniformed officer and then a second one. They stood in the center of her empty living room with their backs to her.
“Stay here.” David hopped off his bike, ran up the steps and jogged to the door. With a quick check to make sure it was safe, he opened the door and stepped inside.
Harlow trailed behind, slowly making her way up the steps. She crept closer, close enough to hear voices, faint and low. She craned her neck, peering through the panes of glass, noticing her father and the officers standing near the fireplace talking.
She eased the door open and slipped inside. “Did you find anyone?”
“It appears whoever it was saw us coming and ran out the back,” the cop said.
“This is my daughter,” David said. “The property owner.”
“Ms. Wynn.” The second officer tipped his hat. “The good news is it appears they didn’t steal anything.”
“What do you think they were after?”
He shrugged. “My guess is tools. Thieves love construction sites. They’re easy targets.”
The other officer spoke. “It’s a good thing you installed cameras. I would also give the construction guys a heads-up that they’ll need to make sure their tools and equipment are secure. It’s possible whoever it was will come back.”
The cops took another look around before making their way down the path behind Harlow’s home. They returned a short time later to let them know they weren’t able to find anyone.
Harlow stood on the stoop watching them leave while her father turned the lights off and locked the door. “You put those cameras up, and not a moment too soon.”