“Hey, lady,” he said after propping the last heavy sheet against the garage wall, “do you suppose, since we skipped breakfast, that we could grab some lunch before we get to this, or is feeding the help going to throw off your schedule?”
“Is that all you think about, your stomach?” she teased, setting the bag of nails on a shelf.
In a flash, he had her turned into his arms and close up against his warm body, his smile lascivious. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Laughing, she kissed him lightly. She’d feed him, she’d even clown with him a bit, but she badly wanted those windows covered. The thought of anything damaging Gramp’s house was more than she could bear just now. “Come on, then. How about a sandwich and some fresh coffee?”
“Sounds good.” Stepping on the front porch as Brie unlocked the door, Slade noticed a package in a plain padded manila envelope on one of the rocking chairs. “Looks like the mailman’s been here.” Picking it up, he followed her inside and handed it over.
In the kitchen, Brie checked out the typed label. “No return address.”
Looking over her shoulder, Slade frowned. “There’s no postmark, either. This didn’t go through the mails. Someone had to have hand delivered it.” Carefully, he took it from her. “I’m not sure you should open this, Brie.”
Fear prickled along her spine. “You’re scaring me. What do you think we have here, a bomb dropped off by our friendly neighborhood nutcase?”
He examined the package, his fingers pressing gingerly. He could feel no wires, nothing suspicious. He was far from an alarmist, but something didn’t seem right here. “Let’s at least go out back and open it, all right?”
His concern was contagious. “All right.” She followed him into the backyard. “We’re going to feel stupid when we find some curtain samples or something in there.”
Cautiously, holding the envelope at arm’s length, ready to toss it should he hear or feel something wrong, Slade ripped off one end. Nothing happened. Relieved that there was no danger, he shook the contents out onto the grass.
Briana gasped as she recognized what she was seeing. Scattered on the ground were remnants of Bobby’s size-one seafoam-green beach shoe cut into chunks and jagged pieces, as if done by a very angry, very vicious hand. Wild-eyed, she looked at Slade. “I left that shoe in the house, in my bedroom. Oh, God, Slade, he’s been in my home!”
S
heriff Stone stooped down to examine the thick pieces of slashed plastic. Thoughtfully, he examined first one, then another, and still more. There had to be a dozen. Straightening, he held the chunks in his big hand. “Not many scissors would cut through this stuff. Had to be a very sharp knife, like a fish-boning knife, or one a butcher might use.”
Standing white-faced and silent, Briana just stared at the remains of the small mutilated shoe that had once belonged to her son.
Her outward calm didn’t fool Slade; he knew inside she was breaking into more pieces than the shoe. Perhaps he could hurry the slow-moving sheriff along. “Brie remembers leaving that shoe in her bedroom closet. After the break-in, I put deadbolts on both doors and reinforced the window locks. How in hell he got in is a mystery.”
Stone pursed his lips. “How many keys and who has them?” he asked Briana.
“Two keys and I have both.”
“Where are they?”
“One’s on my key ring and the other’s in my dresser drawer.”
“You want to check for me that it’s still there?” Stone watched her walk away without another word. He turned to Slade. “You didn’t keep a key, did you?”
He’d been expecting the question. A good lawman would ask and not care who he annoyed. “No, I didn’t.”
Stone turned the padded manila envelope over, checking both sides. “The label’s common enough. You can get them at any drugstore. The printing’s block letters, black pen. No clue there.” He sighed heavily, then glanced toward the house. “Briana’s not been herself since her son died. Do you think she might have left the shoe outside and forgotten about it?”
Slade remembered in great detail the day she’d stumbled across the shoe and run inside where he’d found her weeping in the kitchen. He’d noticed the shoe on the counter, then seen her take it into her bedroom after his attempt at comfort had turned into more. “No, it was definitely inside the house. She’s also had several hang-ups on her answering machine and one message that you should listen to.”
The sheriff looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else. “All right, let’s hear it” He followed Slade into the kitchen just as Brie came in.
“Here’s the other key, Sheriff.” She held it up. “And here’s the second one on my key ring.” She showed him that as well.
“Were your keys ever out of your sight when you were away from home, Briana, like maybe you forgot them somewhere and had to go pick ’em up, or maybe at a restaurant while you went to the rest room?”
Annoyed that he’d think her so careless, she shook her head. “I always keep them in my purse, or in my pocket if I’m out on the beach.”
“I thought the sheriff ought to hear the message on your machine,” Slade told Briana. He saw her nod, then brace herself to listen to that disturbing voice again.
Stone listened to the tape, a frown on his face. “Have you had any calls since this one?” he asked Briana.
She thought of Craig’s annoying call and the company wanting to clean her carpets. “Yes, two.”
“No use dialing Star 69 then, to trace back the last caller.” The sheriff’s eyes narrowed behind his rimless glasses as he looked from the tape to the envelope containing the slashed shoe. “I can’t imagine who’d be pulling this stuff on you, or why.” Drawing in a breath, he leaned against the counter. “I’d like to tell you we’ll find this guy, Briana, but whoever he is, he’s sly. There’d be no tracing a call like that, over and done in less than a minute, even if we had your phone under surveillance. I’ll contact the phone company, see if they can get me a list of your incoming calls. But even then, some phones have their numbers blocked for privacy.”
Frustrated, he paced the kitchen. “Is it connected to the hang-ups? Who knows? The man can’t walk through walls, yet he got in here somehow and took that shoe, went home and did his dirty deed, then snuck over and left the envelope on your porch. It was handled by both of you so even if there were prints, we couldn’t pick ‘sem up. Chances are, careful as he seems, he wore gloves. We didn’t pick up a single print, not even a partial, from the window that was broken earlier.”
So the sheriff thought the incidents were connected, too. Brie shivered, despite being warmly dressed in sweater and slacks. “You think it’s the same person, then?”
Stone shrugged. “It’s possible. I don’t trust coincidences.” He glanced out the window at the gray sky. “You’ve heard, I suppose, that there’s a big nor’eastern headed our way. Maybe, while the planes are still flying, you ought to go back to the mainland. Give us time to work on this a bit”
“I thought you said there wasn’t much to work on,” Slade interjected.
“There isn’t, but I could set up a surveillance, have a deputy swing by the house regularly, check things out”
Brie crossed her arms over her chest, feeling vulnerable yet again. “I don’t see what good that would do. Apparently, he’s trying to frighten me, for some reason. If I leave, I doubt he’ll come back. No one broke in while I was in Boston recently.”
The sheriff was feeling impotent and he didn’t much like it especially with J.D. Slade’s eyes on him. “I need you to think real hard here, Briana. Is there anyone who might have reason to harm you?”
“I
have
thought hard, Sheriff.” Hadn’t she been through this with the Boston police about the shooting? “I don’t know of any enemies I might have, but surely, it’s possible. The thing that puzzles me most is that he’s here on Nantucket I’ve had nothing but pleasant times here. I can’t recall ever having even a minor altercation with anyone on the island.” Shoving both hands through her hair, she walked away. “I don’t know why this is happening.”
Slade thought of something. “Is Caller ID available in Nantucket?” Noticing Brie’s blank look, he went on to explain. “It’s a box you can hook up to your phone and each time someone calls, their name and number appear as a readout If this guy called back, even if he hung up, we possibly could trace him that way.”
“Yeah,” Stone said, “I know about Caller ID. But phone customers can choose to have their name and number blocked, just like they can choose to have unlisted phone numbers. Do you suppose a guy who’s making threatening calls would be dumb enough to phone from his home?”
“Maybe,” Slade commented. “Maybe he’s not aware of Caller ID or maybe he’s not very smart.”
“He’s smart enough to keep me on tenterhooks.” Briana was tired of the discussion, tired of the situation, and very tired of being afraid. “Sorry to have bothered you, Sheriff. I guess there’s not much you can do.”
Stone set the bag on the counter. “Wish there was, Briana.”
“I know. Thanks for coming out.”
The sheriff glanced up at Slade, remembering that he’d been here after the last incident. Seemed like these two were pretty friendly. Maybe that would help Briana. “Since she’s not leaving, maybe you can keep an eye on her, eh?”
“I’ll do that.” Slade walked outside with him.
“She’s a special lady. Hate to see anything happen to her.” Stone opened the door to his cruiser.
“That makes two of us.” He watched the sheriff drive off, then stood back as Irma’s BMW replaced the sheriff’s vehicle in the driveway.
“Just the man I’m looking for,” the widow said as she stepped out of the car, favoring her left foot. “I feel silly driving less than a block, but I was afraid I’d slip and fall on this wet pavement.” She stuck out her bandaged leg. “I’ve got a bad sprain as it is. I don’t need another.”
Walking around, Slade took her arm. “What happened?”
“Getting clumsy in my old age, I guess. Stumbled over an uneven step on my porch. Nothing broken, thank God, but it hurts like the devil. At least it’s my left so I can still drive.” She peered up at him through rose-tinted glasses. “How have you been? I’ve called you any number of times, hoping to catch you, but you’re never home.”
“Oh, I’m around, here and there.” Irma was wearing a Western shirt complete with fringe and jeans with a wide belt fastened around her middle. The red wig was back. Despite the outfit, she looked more frail than usual.
“Uh huh.” Irma glanced at Briana’s house. “Around here, most likely. That’s why I came over. Thought I’d find you at Brie’s.”
“You caught me.” Holding on to her, he led her up the steps. “You mean to say there’s something wrong with your porch after I reinforced it?”
“No, not that porch. The one in back.” She let him open the door for her, stepped into the living room, and spotted Briana in the kitchen. “Company, my dear. Uninvited, but I’m here.”
“Irma, it’s good to see you.” Brie came forward to hug the older woman, then stepped back to check out her bandaged leg.
Irma went over the story again, then dismissed the injury. “Let me tell you, kids, it’s hell to grow old, but considering the alternative, I’ll take it”
“I’m just making some lunch, Irma. Come join us.” Glancing out the window, Brie saw that it wasn’t raining yet but the sky looked ominous. She wouldn’t think about threatening phone calls or mysterious packages, but rather concentrate on this simple meal and then on getting the plywood sheets in place. She had a bad feeling about this pending storm. “How does a roast beef sandwich and coffee sound?”
“Actually, it sounds pretty good,” Irma admitted. “I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.” She’d been to see Doc Winslow in town and he’d done his usual exam, finding nothing new. Yet she seemed to have no energy these days.
“Your mouth will start to water as soon as you smell Brie’s cooking.” Slade settled Irma at the kitchen table. “It’s one of her specialties, made like a Reuben with Thousand Island dressing and melted Swiss cheese.”
Irma watched him walk to the counter where Briana was working and place a hand on her shoulder, gently caressing. Quite unconsciously, Brie leaned into his touch for the briefest of moments, then resumed fixing lunch. So that’s how it was, Irma thought, hiding her smile. There was no mistaking the familiarity of touches between two people who’ve been intimate. She’d seen enough to recognize the signs immediately.
She hadn’t been in favor of J.D. Slade when he’d first arrived. Rumors of his drinking had bothered her and she’d mistaken his inborn reserve, his shyness with strangers, for aloofness and arrogance. He’d stood up well to her hard-line questioning the evening they’d spent at the art exhibit But it wasn’t until she’d asked him to work on her porch while Briana had been in Boston that she’d come to know and understand him better. And finally, to like him a great deal.
He had problems, she knew, but then, who didn’t? If you were alive and in the mainstream, you had problems. The only problem-free people were tiny babies and dead folks. The question was, was he strong enough to overcome his problems? And equally as important to Irma, who loved Briana like the granddaughter she’d never had, would he not add to that lovely woman’s problems, but rather, help her over the heartache of losing her only child?
The jury was still out on that one.
Briana placed a huge hot sandwich on each of three plates while Slade poured fresh coffee. Sitting down with her guests, Brie found a smile for Irma. “I’m so glad you came by.”
Irma tried her coffee before responding and found it hot and robust. “It’s good to see you as always, Briana, but I must admit I came looking for Slade.” She cocked her head at the man who was already halfway through the first half of his sandwich. “I figured when he didn’t answer his phone that he’d be here.”
Idly, Brie wondered who else had noticed their togetherness, not that she cared. “We drove into town to get some plywood to cover the windows. The newscaster warned that the storm could hit by tomorrow.”
Slade wiped his mouth. “We have enough for your windows, too.” Brie had had him buy out half the supply, it seemed.