Chapter 13 #2
She shrugged, but something in her expression looked almost pleased. “I said I’ll be there. Just tell me when and where.”
I stood there, staring at her. “Are you serious?”
“As Rudolph on a snowy night.” Rose held out her hand. “Let me see your phone.”
I hesitated, then handed it to her without asking questions.
She opened my contacts and added herself, quickly handing it back to me. “There. You now have my phone number in case you need to get a hold of me, for any reason.”
I nodded, then glanced at her details on my phone. “Your phone number ends in one-two-three-four?”
“Impossible to forget,” she said. “But please, no crank calls.”
“Seriously—you are the most unpredictable person I’ve ever met.” I shook my head, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face. “And thank you. Again. I could kiss you for this.”
It was just an expression, that’s all it was supposed to be. Except every nerve in my body screamed that it didn’t have to be just an expression.
It appeared that the feeling was mutual.
Rose’s eyes dropped to my mouth.
Her throat moved when she swallowed.
The air between us was buzzing.
So was my phone. Again.
Just then, two police cruisers screamed past us on Front Street, lights flashing and sirens blaring.
Rose and I looked at each other.
“So much for our moment,” she said with a frown.
“Rain check?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” she said, then gestured to the cop cars. “It’s a little early for police drama in sleepy Leavenworth, isn’t it?”
“Definitely,” I said, glancing at the alert on my phone and feeling my stomach sink. “Unfortunately, I think I know why.”
The squad cars screeched to a stop behind two other squad cars in front of the library. The officers got out and disappeared inside the library.
Rose and I broke into that awkward half-jog people do when they’re trying to hurry without looking panicked, our coffees sloshing around and spilling out of the sip-holes on the tops of our cups. We reached the library just as Eleanor arrived.
“What happened?” she asked, her face tight with concern.
“It was a break-in, apparently,” I said.
“Oh, no.” Her hand went to her throat as she stared at the entrance. “Please tell me nothing’s damaged or stolen.”
“Looks like we’re about to find out,” I said.
Edgar Grant, a sheriff’s deputy who’d been patrolling Leavenworth since the day I relocated there, emerged from the entrance. His expression was puzzled rather than alarmed.
“What’s going on, Edgar?” I asked.
“Sorry, Sam, but it looks like you’ve had a break-in.” He gestured for us to follow. “Come see this. It’s interesting.”
Inside, Edgar led us past the circulation desk, sweeping his arm in a wide arc. “No overturned shelves. No scattered books. No broken glass, no forced entry that we can find, no vandalism.” He scratched his head. “I don’t get it.”
I scanned the space.
Edgar was right.
Everything looked untouched. Perfectly normal.
Eleanor stood in the center of the main room, arms crossed, her usual calm rattled. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why risk a breaking-and-entering charge and then do nothing? Not that I’m complaining …”
“They could’ve been interrupted,” Edgar offered, but his tone suggested he didn’t buy it. “Maybe some kids were messing around, then got spooked and ran.”
I showed him the emergency alerts I’d received on my phone when everything went dark. “Kids don’t know how to disable security systems and the network without triggering every failsafe we have.”
“You’re thinking this was a professional job then?” Edgar asked.
“Definitely,” I said.
I was already moving toward my work area.
Edgar, Eleanor, and Rose fell into step behind me.
I reached my desk and stopped cold.
Something was wrong.
The computer mouse on my desk was two inches to the left of where I normally kept it.
I made sure it was in the same position every night before I left, thanks to a little case of OCD.
The monitor angle was off as well. I always positioned it precisely to line up with my desk calendar and the stapler to avoid window glare. Now it was tilted right.
Someone had been here.
Someone had touched my things.
“Sam?” Eleanor said. “What is it?”
“I had a breach,” I said.
I initially suspected that maybe the FBI was on my trail, but why would they break and enter instead of just serving a warrant? No, it had to be someone else.
Edgar moved closer. “How can you be so sure? Everything looks normal and tidy to me.”
“Trust me—someone was here,” I said.
“What would they be looking for?” Eleanor asked, her voice tight.
“My documents.” I frowned, thinking it through.
“But honestly, there’s nothing valuable there.
Archive databases, research files—mostly stuff that’s backed up to the network, anyway.
Anyone with a library card can access most of it.
” I ran my hand through my hair. “I keep everything truly sensitive in the cloud.”
Unlike some people I know.
I glanced at Rose, but she wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation. She was scanning my workspace with methodical focus, her eyes tracking across every surface.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
Rose didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned over my desk and inhaled deeply near the monitor. Then the chair. Then she hovered over the mouse, breathing in like she was trying to extract information from the air itself.
“Perfume,” she said finally. “Someone wearing perfume was here, and it’s not Eleanor’s or mine.”
Eleanor and Edgar moved closer, both sniffing tentatively.
“Oh …” Eleanor’s eyebrows rose. “You’re right. That’s an expensive perfume. Department store counter expensive, not drugstore aisle.”
Edgar shook his head. “I don’t smell anything.”
Officer Hugo called out from the basement stairs, and Eleanor and Edgar joined him, leaving Rose and me alone at the desk.
She closed her eyes, inhaling again with the concentration of a sommelier analyzing wine.
“Jasmine,” she murmured. She moved her head slightly, tracking the scent. “And vanilla.” Her eyes opened. “And coffee.”
I stared at her. “You can smell all that?”
“I have a sensitive nose,” Rose said.
I leaned in, trying to catch what she’d described. At first, nothing. Then, I noticed something. Faint but distinct.
“I know that smell,” I said, sniffing again a few times. “It’s very familiar, now that I think about it.”
“Yeah,” Rose said.
Then something flickered in her expression.
It was brief but unmistakable.
Rose suddenly lunged for the lemon-scented air freshener from my desk and started spraying. Aggressively. Multiple pumps in rapid succession, creating a fog of artificial citrus that immediately made my eyes water.
I coughed, waving my hand through the chemical cloud. “Rose! What are you doing?”
“Neutralizing,” she said.
“Neutralizing what? Me?” I coughed again, my throat burning. “My teeth have a lemon glaze on them.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Rose said, then analyzed the label on the bottle.“This has essential oils. It’s good for you.” She set the bottle back down on my desk, then glanced at the Einstein poster on my wall.
And there it was, that look. One of the telltale signs I’d learned to recognize over the past few days. Whenever she was nervous, whenever she was calculating her next move, whenever she was deciding how much to reveal, she’d focus on something random.
Like my Einstein poster …
Rose was rattled.
There was definitely something she wasn’t telling me. Again. And in that moment, I knew I couldn’t stop digging until I figured it out.