Page 43 of Secrets Along the Shore
I continued, “I can’t say I have anything to help you with my case or Sophia’s case. I just—feelwhat the others feel. I feel what Sophia felt as she died, and I—I can empathize with her killer. He feels broken tome. Lost. He’s not confident or egotistical. He’s a little boy in a man’s body, wanting a home.”
A long, silent moment passed. Finally, a robin chirped, breaking the stillness.
Reuben cleared his throat. “You know I can’t build a case on a feeling.”
“I know.” My answer was honest. Truthful. Grateful, actually, that he hadn’t belittled my admission.
“But Dickson said to investigate, so I will. Maybe it’s women’s intuition.”
I shot him a quick study to see if he mocking me. He wasn’t. There was even a little admiration in his eyes. I waited.
“You’re a survivor, Noa Lorne. Your voice matters.”
The air conditioningat work was turned so low I had goosebumps. I always wore short sleeves in the summer, but today, and already very distracted, I found myself ransacking my locker in the back room, hoping I’d left a sweater or sweatshirt there over the winter. I hadn’t.
I shut the locker and Toby stood on the other side. Jumping, my shoulder hit the locker and banged. “You scared me!”
He grinned. “Sorry. Hey. I was wondering if you could check the address for that job this afternoon? The work order smudged and I can’t read it to put it into the GPS.”
“Sure.” I didn’t mind the distraction from the cold, and I didn’t mind doing a favor for Toby. “Give me a sec.”
I made my way to my desk with Toby following, and pulled up the customer job database. Finding the job site address was easy, and within minutes I wrote it down and had it in Toby’s hand so he and the crew could pull out and get to work.
A smile and a wave, and Toby left the offices to go do his job.
I shivered. Not because of Toby or any other reason than my nerves were raw. I took a moment to practice measured breathing. I even surveyed the office to re-center myself. My desk, Elsie’s desk in thecorner, a pot of ferns on the floor—their tips mostly brown and dry—a few framed photos of rainbows and forests, and a wall lined with cupboards that stored office supplies.
“You doin’ all right, honey?” Elsie asked from her desk in the corner where she pecked at her keyboard in slow motion, entering data that I was pretty sure wasn’t needed except to create something for Elsie to do and stay relevant.
“I’m fine.” A reassuring smile cast her way, I returned my attention to my desk. I’d done a poor job of making it homey. No framed photos, like on Elsie’s. Not even a knick-knack. I had one sticker that I’d stuck to the wall.
Coffee saves lives,it boasted.
I felt so conflicted. My conversation with Reuben yesterday had gotten us no further in the investigation and it felt as if I was in this terrible pause. Like in a movie or a book where everything was moving fast and then suddenly, page after page or frame after frame, nothing seemed to happen.
I stared at my computer.
I had work to do, I just wasn’t in the mindset to do any of it. The customer database was still open on my computer and on a whim, I typed in Reuben’s name. When he didn’t pop up as a customer of Archer’s Heating and Cooling, I wasn’t surprised. I was pretty sure that Reuben would be the type of guy who didn’t only solve crimes but also solved his own home repairs.
I reached for a work order and hesitated, my hand hovering over the papers on my desk. Well, there was a thought! I could search the customers in our database, and what if—I repositioned my fingers over my keyboard. I typed in Lilian Thomas’ name. A grandmotherly sort wouldn’t be maintaining her own HVAC, and while Archer’s Heating and Cooling wasn’t the only provider in town, my curiosity was piqued. I didn’t even have a good reason. I was just . . . curious.
Lilian’s name blinked at the top of my computer and a list generated below it, with a full record of times we’d sent men to her home. Based on the entries, she had a gas fireplace that received regular maintenance, an air conditioner installed five years ago, and air filter replacements on her furnace as recent as last fall. An unnerving sensationrippled through me. It was unnerving the small way people’s lives intersected without even realizing it.
I typed in Rosalie’s name.
Her records popped onto my screen.
I shivered, and this time, it wasn’t because of the air conditioning. How many other businesses in town had offered services to both women—and potentially Sophia’s home too? Was it possible that a tie that minute would provide answers?
As quick as I could type, I filled in Sophia’s parent’s names to see if their house came up. If it had, I would have reached for my phone immediately to text Reuben. But it didn’t. There was no record of anyone at Archer’s ever being at Sophia’s home. I had to admit, that was a relief. If all three had come up in our database, it’d hit a little too close to home.
“What are you looking at?”
I jumped, my elbow knocking my water bottle. Water pumped out of the plastic straw. I scrambled for it as Lisa grabbed tissues from a box and tried to mop up the spill.
“I’m so sorry!” she prattled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s ok.” I bit my tongue and lifted the sopping wet work orders. Lisa—and everyone else in the company—knew better than to sneak up on me.
