Page 103 of Middle Ground
Meyer laughs. “Sorry we scared you. I promise that selling is not in the cards.”
The older woman nods. “Better not be.”
We still have a while before the restaurant officially opens, so we all spend some time chatting and catching up. Now that we’re in the thick of summer, our days are plenty busy, so it’s hard to talk about anything not strictly related to the job.
When my phone buzzes, I take a step away from the group and pull it out of my pocket. A notification from the security cameras I had installed at Meyer’s cottage lights up my screen. Worry settles low in my gut as I click on the tab.
When the camera feed comes up, my spine stiffens. There’s someone walking around the outside of the cottage. I can’t see their face, but I have a bad feeling. With everything stacking up these last few months, this can’t be a coincidence.
“Hey, Hotshot,” Meyer calls. My eyes stay glued to the camera feed as she comes up beside me. “Jackson?”
She touches my shoulder to get my attention, but she soon gets distracted by my phone screen. I barely hear her gasp. Her hand wraps around my arm, clinging to me as we watch. We should probably do something—call the police. But I feel frozen in place.
Then a new notification pops up, telling us the motion-sensor security alarm was triggered.
“Oh my God,” Meyer says. She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears.
My jaw clenches. No need to call the police now—they should already be on their way thanks to the security company.
“Fish,” she gasps.
“Meyer, wait?—”
But she’s already gone, racing out of the restaurant.
I curse as I follow after her, through the inn and out the front door. She flies down the gravel path leading to her cottage, and cold dread slithers through me at what she might find.Whoshe might find.
I manage to catch up with her just before her feet hit the front porch. Looping an arm around her waist, I draw her to a halt.
“Let me go,” she demands as she struggles. “Jackson, let go!”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that, baby. I’m not letting you go in there until the police have cleared it.”
She fights me, trying to force me to release her. “What about Fish? What if he gets hurt?” she cries.
My heart cracks open. I know how much the cat means to her, but she means everything to me. I’m not risking it. Whoever tripped the alarm could still be prowling around outside. Worse, they could be inside, just waiting for Meyer to come home.
“Fish is probably hiding like he always does. We’ll get him as soon as everything is safe, I promise,” I reply, gentle pulling her back toward the inn.
I can hear sirens in the distance and the chatter of our staff. They’re spilling out of the inn now, no doubt curious why Meyer and I ran off without an explanation. Pippa pushes through the crowd, meeting us halfway down the path.
“What happened?” she asks.
I look down at Meyer. Her lip trembles as she sucks in a steadying breath. I tuck her closer against my side, and she hides her face against my chest.
“Someone was lurking around the cottage, and then they tripped the alarm,” I explain. “We watched it happen on the cameras.”
There’s pure fear in Pippa’s eyes, but she quickly blinks it away and lays a comforting hand on Meyer’s arm. And then we wait.
The police arrive shortly after, and they head straight for the cottage. They instruct us to wait inside the inn, so I guide Meyer to one of the chairs in the lobby. She clings to my hand, not allowing me to let go. Not that I would. I’m not going anywhere.
It seems like hours pass before one of the constables comes to retrieve us. I keep holding Meyer’s hand as we follow him back outside.
“I know this isn’t easy to think about,” Constable Reyes says, “but we need to go over this. Can you tell me what happened?”
I relay what I saw on the cameras, and I pull out the footage to show him what I’m talking about.
Constable Reyes grimaces. “It looks like a rock was thrown through the side window into the living room,” he explains. Meyer’s grip tightens on my hand. “There was a note attached.”
