Page 35 of Night Falls on Predicament Avenue
Perplexity warped the area between Harper’s well-shaped brows. “Is it not supposed to be here? In your bedroom?”
Harper didn’t understand. How could she know that not only was the library card not on her dresser before she’d fallen asleep, but the card was always kept in Naomi’s wallet? A Coach wallet that she’d prized, and the library card was treasured by Naomi just as much as the luxury-brand wallet. A card and wallet that, among other items, had been in Naomi’s purse along with her current read in 2011,A Discovery of Witchesby Deborah Harkness. A purse filled with belongings that, while Naomi’s body had been found, had remained missing for nearly thirteen years.
“Norah?” Harper’s hand on Norah’s arm pulled her back to reality.
Norah took the library card back from Harper, then shifted her gaze to the door and Sebastian, who reentered with a shake of his head.
“There’s no one out there, not a soul. The door is locked. I don’t see how...” He bit off his words as he took in Norah. Her face was void of color, and her hands were beginning to shake again, the library card vibrating up and down with her tremors.“What is it?” A worried look at Harper, then Sebastian moved to take the card from Norah. As he did, she almost followed the movement, wanting nothing more than to press her face into the man’s broad chest and ask him to hide her from the world. From the present awful world and theotherworldthat seemed to collide in her bedroom tonight. Reality and spirits. Communications from those who had died.
For the first time since Naomi’s murder, Norah was able to hold a piece of her that had gone missing the day Naomi was killed. Only it wasn’t supposed to be here, in her room, without explanation. Murder victims didn’t return their lost items thirteen years after their death. Murder victims didn’t return from the dead, period.
Unless they did.
Norah combed her fingers through her hair, leaving her hands tangled above her ears and her elbows poised on the table. She held her head, weighing whether she was dealing with an anxiety attack or a migraine. Both were probably inevitable before all this was over. “How did my sister’s library card get in my bedroom?” She lifted her face to look between the father-daughter duo. Norah reminded herself that Harper had yet to spill the beans to her dad about her being pregnant.
Sebastian’s dark brows were pulled together in concentration. He’d shifted from his extroverted and lighthearted self to a more focused, investigative mode. Norah appreciated this, except it also meant he would probably start digging in places he’d said he wouldn’t. “You’ve two options,” he began. “One, a ghost somehow left the card on your dresser, or two, you did see a lass in your room last night, who’s more real than you’re givin’ her credit for.”
“I’d take living human over ghost any day,” Harper concluded.
“Really?” Norah got lost in the debate for a second. “That’dmean someone could actually hurt you. But a ghost ... not so much.”
Harper considered that. “Well, I’ve watched those ghost-hunting shows, and some people have kitchen knives thrown at them by spirits.”
“That’s just fishin’ line and camera tricks,” Sebastian inserted.
“And yet you’re here chasing after Isabelle Addington—a dead woman’s spirit,” Harper said.
“Correction.” Sebastian held up his index finger. “I’m here to find out what happened to Shepherd’s first recorded murder victim and”—he swept his arm around the room—“uncover the mystery that is 322 Predicament Avenue.”
“But back to my sister’s library card...” Norah interjected, even though at this point she’d prefer to engulf herself in the story of Isabelle Addington and forget her own life’s story that was fast coming back to haunt her.
Sebastian nodded. “As I said, gettin’ the police involved would be your first step. What will they do? Not sure. Maybe run prints on the library card. Prob’ly question you an’ make you think you’re wrong and the card never was in Naomi’s bag to begin with. Thirteen years is a long time to remember what your sister kept in her purse.”
“Iknowwhat she kept in her purse.” Norah couldn’t help but be a little annoyed by Sebastian’s veiled challenge.
He tilted his head in acquiescence. “Sure you do. But will they believe you? It’s not a big thing, a library card. Won’t say much, do much, or tell much to affect a cold case.”
“I like the fingerprinting idea.” Harper pulled her feet from the chair, and they landed with a thud on the kitchen floor. “If it was a real intruder, and they did leave prints, maybe the person could be identified.”
“There’s no sign of a break-in,” Sebastian went on to argue. “I’m not sayin’ you don’t call the police; I’m just cautionin’ you that it’s likely not much will come of it.”
Harper leaned forward. “They never identified Naomi’s killer?”
Norah swallowed back a sourness that rose in her throat. She shook her head, unable to find words.
“And no one ever found it weird that with only two murders in the history of Shepherd, both were related to this property?” Harper probably didn’t mean to be insensitive, but Norah didn’t miss the quick, stern shake of his head that Sebastian directed at his daughter.
“So, other than what happened to Isabelle and Naomi, Shepherd’s been peaceful?” Harper held up her hands. “There’s never been any more violence in this town? I mean, is that even possible?” She looked to her dad.
Sebastian turned his coffee mug, its bottom scraping on the table. “Sure, it’s possible. That’s the appeal of living in a small town. Where things like murder rarely happen.”
“The appeal of living in a small town?” A spurt of anger rushed through Norah, and she slapped her hands on the table, shoving away from it and marching to the door off the kitchen that led to the backyard. She waved her hand toward the old graveyard. “I’m surrounded by death. Always. Since I was a little girl. And this place—I hate it.” Norah spun around to meet the startled gazes of Sebastian and his daughter. “I really do,” she added, her voice starting to tremble. “This place was Aunt Eleanor’s dream—Naomi’sdream. I’ve been sucked into it like one of those graves out back. It’s going to eat me alive.” She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the anxiety rippling through her nerves.
Sebastian was looking beyond her, captivated by something outside the screen door. He rose from the table and approached, Norah moving aside to create distance between them. Staring out over the cemetery, he seemed to ponder for a moment before asking, “Was she buried out there?”
“Naomi?” Norah’s voice squeaked because tears were so close to the surface.
“Isabelle Addington,” Sebastian answered.
