Clock and Dagger (20 page)

“Nadia, that's the chief. I'm going to let him in. You have to tell him what you told me, all right? Let's go downstairs.”

I'd be standing by, making sure she did just that.

•   •   •

A
s it turned out, the chief didn't even want me in the room.

“Ruth, I can't force you to leave. It's your shop. But I'm going to need to ask Nadia some questions, and it's much easier if we do it here and not have to go down to the station. Yet.”

“So you don't think she did it?” I asked.

“I don't know.”

“She said that Tuck used to work for—”

“Don't. Let me hear it from her.”

“Do you know where Beckett Green is?” I asked.

“He's down at the station.”

“Under arrest?”

“I'm not at liberty to say. Now, didn't you say that you had dinner plans out at the cottage? Go be with Caroline. I'll talk to you both either tonight or tomorrow, I promise.”

“If you need more information—”

“If I need more information, I have your cell phone number on autodial. In the meantime, how's about we let Caroline enjoy her time with her friend?”

“Can I tell her about Tuck?”

“Not right away, no.”

I thought back to my fragile step-grandmother, and agreed. She wouldn't be happy that I'd kept the news from her, but Jeff was right. Why let it sour her time with an old friend? I walked over to the work desk and took out the extra set of keys, handing them to Jeff.

“Bezel needs dinner and I would love to change my clothes to something dinner appropriate,” I said, looking up at him.

“Go on up, feed her, and change,” he sighed. “I'm waiting for Ro.”

“Waiting for Ro? Won't she stay across the street?”

“I just got word that the state police have taken over the investigation,” he said. “Again.”

“So Beckett is waiting for them, not for you.”

“That's right. Ro and I are visiting our friend Ruth's shop. Supporting the community,” he said, a small trace of a smile playing on his lips.

“Who happens to have a key witness visiting?” I said, inclining my head toward Nadia's huddled form.

“Coincidence is a great thing,” Jeff said.

“It is indeed. Okay, then. I'll feed the cat and go out to the cottage.” I headed back up the stairs as Ro came to the front door. Jeff let her in and locked the door behind her.

“Make yourselves at home,” I called behind me.

I
fed Bezel and pulled on a simple gray tunic dress over leggings, my Docs, a maroon knit scarf, and some of my most intricate clockwork jewelry. My hair would just have to do as it was. I grabbed the cookies and hustled out the back, to my car. I should have eaten one of Nancy's goodies while they were warm. They were stone cold now. It seemed like hours ago I'd been to the Sleeping Latte.

I hit the button to unlock the doors. They opened. Pat Reed to the rescue again. I turned to lock the back door of the store and looked over to my right, toward the barbershop, adjusting the belt on my thick, black wrap coat. I saw a faint outline of someone standing in the spill of light from my back door. Ben was staring at his shop.

“Ben, is that you?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. No one else had that slightly disheveled appearance
that was so darn sexy it took my breath away. I hadn't seen him since he brought the flowers over for Caroline, but it had felt like longer. I realized with a start that I'd missed him, that I wanted to talk to him about everything that had been going on. I finished locking the door and walked down the back stairs to my car.

“I was coming by, but saw Paisley go into the Cog. I didn't want to interrupt.”

“Interrupt what?” I asked. I tossed my bag onto the passenger's seat and threw the bag of cookies on top. I turned to look at Ben. I could see his breath, all white in the cold air.

“He's been over at your place a lot lately.” Ben dug his hands into his jacket pockets and looked down at the ground. “Just wanted to give you both space.”

I stood there with my jaw hanging open. “Space for what?” I looked right at Ben, who studiously didn't look at me. “Ben, Jeff's on duty right now. He's using the shop for a couple of meetings.”

“Meetings? Who with?”

I looked down at my watch. “Listen, Ben, I'm late to dinner out at Caroline's. I know, me showing up late, big surprise.” He didn't even crack a smile. “Do you want to come with me, and I can tell you the whole story on the way?”

“You don't owe me any explanations.” His jaw was set, and he looked frustrated. Which, of course, ticked me off.

“Ben, don't be such a jerk. I've had a really hard day.”

“You've had a hard day? My day hasn't exactly been a picnic.” His voice rose several decibels, which surprised us both. In response, I lowered my own voice.

“Of course it hasn't. Things have been terrible around here this week for everyone. Awful. Well, never mind.” I
got into my car, keeping the door ajar. I turned the key and was relieved that the car started right away. It was hard to make a dramatic exit when your car wouldn't start. “I'm not having this conversation with you, not right now. I need to get out to the cottage. Last chance—do you want to come?”

“No,” he said, turning back toward his shop.

“Suit yourself,” I said. “Jerk,” I whispered. I made sure it was loud enough for him to hear.

•   •   •

T
onight the moon was behind a cloud. Even if I wanted to hurry, I couldn't. I tried Caroline's cell and her landline. No one answered, but I left a message on each, telling her I was on my way. Odd. She should be home. Maybe Zane was already there, and they were catching up.

I heard what sounded like a bottle breaking. I looked in my rearview mirror, back on the road, to see if I'd run something over. Then I saw the purple flashing light on my cell phone and realized someone was texting me. Nadia must have been playing with my phone's sound effects again. I'd need to change them back later. Crashing glass was not a great choice, especially while I was driving. Maybe there was a funeral dirge I could use. That would certainly be more fitting. I shook my head, trying to get in a better frame of mind. Tuck was going to be okay, I had to believe that. Everything was going to be okay. That was harder to believe, particularly given the knot in my stomach that kept growing.

I pulled into the driveway, turned off the car, and checked my phone. Was Caroline texting me? Did she need something for dinner? If she did, I could go back to Orchard and get it for her. I scrolled through, but the text was from Jeff.
I opened it and realized he'd texted me a picture. I read the words of the text while I waited for the image to download. Honestly, cell service was a disaster in parts of the Berkshires. I still wasn't used to that.

W. Struggs isn't in jail. Picture left to right—Struggs, Caroline, Zane Phillips. He got out six months ago. Some sort of deal. They've lost track of him.

A chill ran through me. Out of jail? How was I going to break that to Caroline?

The picture finally loaded, and I recognized it from the one that Zane Phillips had shown me earlier. But that wasn't right. Maybe it was backward, because Zane Phillips was definitely the man on the right, just many years older and with scars on his face. I could barely breathe when I called Jeff.

“Jeff, the picture. Left to right. Zane Phillips is the guy with the black shirt, right? Call me,” I said to his voice mail. I looked at the picture again. Neither one had scars. That's how I'd known Zane was Zane—the scars. That's how I'd described him to Caroline. I hadn't noticed much more than the scars. I texted Jeff again.

The guy in the black shirt, he introduced himself as Zane Phillips. Is that him or not?
I texted again, after a minute.

Jeff, I texted the black shirt guy Caroline's address. He's probably there already.

I sat in the car and waited. After a minute I called again, but it went right to voice mail. I left another message, telling Jeff to get to the cottage as soon as possible.

I sat in my car, waiting for Jeff to call me. My phone rang. It was Caroline.

“I'm waiting for a call back from Jeff—” I said.

“Run, Ruth! Get away from here!” I heard a scream and the phone went dead. The voice was Caroline's and so was the scream.

No more waiting. I called 911 and gave the dispatcher my address.

“We'll get you help as soon as possible,” the dispatcher said. “It will be a few minutes. Wait for the officer, all right?”

“Could you call Jeff Paisley and tell him to listen to his messages?” I said. I hung up, but I couldn't wait. Caroline was in trouble. I couldn't let her face her abusive ex-husband all by herself.

•   •   •

I
stuffed my phone in my coat pocket and searched the glove box looking for something, anything I could use as a weapon. The pointy metal nail set. I kept it in case I ever went off a bridge and had to break a window. I'd watched too many disaster shows than were good for me, but I'd always figured the four-dollar tool carpenters used to push nails into wood was worth the just-in-case investment. It felt ridiculous as a weapon, but it was the best I could do.

I shoved my keys and the nail set into my other pocket and turned off the interior light. I slipped out of the car and onto the driveway, closing my car as quietly as I could. I locked the car by rote and glanced at the two cars parked beside mine. I recognized Caroline's, but not the one with the Vermont plates.

I tiptoed to the front door and peered up through the front window. No one was in the living room but all the lights were on. I tiptoed around to the other side of the front door and peered through that window. The dining room looked
empty, but the only light spilled from the living room. The door to the kitchen was closed. I hesitated for a moment. To look into the kitchen I'd have to step up on the deck. I wasn't sure why I was hesitating, but I trusted my gut. I needed to find another way into the house.

My heart was pounding. I had trouble swallowing. I forced myself to stop, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Then another. It helped a little. Not a lot, but a little. Where was Jeff? Where were the police? I retraced my steps back to the living room area of the house and walked around the side. There was a large three-season porch on the side of the house, and I walked over toward it. Again, only the light from the living room illuminated the porch. I creeped over, bent in half to stay below the windowsill line. Once I got closer I lifted my head up and peeked in the window. No one was in there, but someone must have been earlier. The bookcases under the bench seating were cleared. Books were strewn around the room. Was that where the books that Caroline brought out to me had been kept? The ones filled with all of the evidence from the investigation into Wallace Struggs's criminal dealings and her part in them? Had they been hiding in plain sight this entire time?

I walked around to the back of the house, again ducking under windows. It was tough since the rear of the house faced the water, so there were a lot of large windows. Big windows. I crouched lower and walked like a duck. My thighs screamed from the effort. I paid attention to my path, trying to avoid sticks or leaves, anything that might give me away. It was slow going, but I didn't want to rush. Where was Caroline? Who was with her and why was she so scared?

I was halfway around the house. In a few more feet I'd
reach the side of the deck, the one that led out to the small shed where Caroline kept the garbage cans in the back of the house, close enough for convenience but impossible for raccoons to reach. Maybe she had something I could use as a weapon in the shed? It was worth a look. Just one more step. Boom. Floodlights turned night into day. I blinked my eyes, trying to refocus quickly, but it was no good. Damn, the motion-sensor lights were on. How could I have forgotten about them? I froze and let my eyes adjust. I turned to retrace my steps and go and wait for Jeff.

A shadow swooped in front of me, blocking the light, stepping toward me.

“Ruth, come join us. Caroline, you were wrong,” he said, calling into the house. “She's out here.”

“Oh, hello, Zane. I was just checking on . . . something.” Brilliant conversationalist, that's me. Quick on my feet as always. I looked up, but he was standing behind the lights, so I saw only a shadow. Why wasn't Caroline answering? Could she even hear him?

“I'm sure you were. Come in.”

“I forgot something in the car,” I said dumbly, turning to go back around the house.

He covered the three steps to my side in a single movement. Once he stepped in front of the lights, I could see him more clearly. I could also see the gun in his hand.