Page 21 of Sapphire Nights
Now she really wouldn’tsleep.
Emma woke up from her bed in the suitcase and came out to curl around Sam’s ankles. The cat’s dish wasempty.
Sam had bought a few basic fresh groceries with the money Dinah had given her. She poured a little milk into Emma’s water dish as a treat, then heated more in a saucepan. Looking out thestudio’s enormous windows, she rubbed her elbows. What else might she remember if she tried hard enough? Or wastryingthe problem? Did she need to be startled intoremembering?
It would be far more useful if she could remember why she was in California than the fact that she used computer games to go tosleep.
While Emma happily lapped her treat, Sam watched a light bob up the shortcutpath from town. Mariah lived down there, but she was up at the crack of dawn, and had to be asleep at this hour. So who was coming up thepath?
Car beams flashed on the road on the other side of the bushes, heading in the direction of the cemetery. Who would go to the cemetery atmidnight?
She ought to drink her milk and go to bed. But she was too on edge. Living with uncertaintywas not conducive to sleep, and this mystery wasn’thelping.
She pulled on her furry boots and a coat, filled a travel mug with warm milk, and let herself out on the balcony. The car lights had gone out. The flashlight was still approaching. Did she need a weapon? She snorted. As if she knew how to useone.
So, sneaky does it. She’d already found several flashlights scattered aroundthe studio, presumably for power outages. She tested the one in deck storage and it worked. The concrete steps didn’t creak. With light off, she quietly slipped downthem.
The person on the path wasn’t as surreptitious. They walked right up past the rose bed with their flashlight still on. Heart pounding, Sam waited in the shadows of the wall. There were only two houses out here, the studioand Cass’s place. The person would have to walk right past her to reach themansion.
Did she make herself known or followthem?
The light hesitated at her driveway. The figure was tall and lean and quite possibly male, judging by shoulder width. The silhouette of long hair tied at the nape made her doubt her assessment until she remembered Harvey, the guitarist at the diner. A cardoor slamming up by the cemetery caused him to flick off hislight.
The evening fog was rolling in, but she could see enough to follow him as he walked down the drive to the road. She had absolutely no reason to be suspicious, except that was apparently what she did. Was that telling her something from herpast?
He didn’t try to hide as he strolled toward the cemetery. She was probablyout of her gourd to even bother keeping up with him. But her head was empty and needed filling,apparently.
He grew more cautious as he approached the cemetery. The car had turned off its beams and engine. The night was still. The wisps of fog could easily be mistaken for spectral figures forming and dissipating. An eerie creak caused her to bite her tongue and freeze, before she realizedwhat it might be—the door to the Kennedyvault.
How many people had keys to thevault?
Harvey—if it was he—halted. His shadow nearly blended in with that of a fairly young pine. A moment later, a car swung back to the road. It turned on its beams at the curve leading downhill toward town. Sam didn’t know one car from another but this was a large SUV in a light color, like the oneCarmel Kennedy had used earlier thatday.
She waited until the hidden man started back down the road, swinging his flashlight beam. He wasn’t really trying to hide—except from the car. Interesting, but not enough to raise even her suspicion. After all, she was doing the same exact thing—beingnosy.
She needed to get a life—if only she could remember where she’d leftit.
Walker cruisedinto Hillvale a little over half an hour after the shots-fired report. The deputy on duty had been writing up a bar fight in Baskerville and had been relieved when Walker had agreed to take the call. He had used his flashers and the safest speed possible on that narrow road, but the town was isolated. They couldn’t expect instant response. If they’d had to wait on the assignedofficer, it could have been another hour ormore.
Dinah’s café was closed and dark, as were all the other shops. He found Valdis and several of her sycophants waiting at the base of the road leading to the lodge. They huddled around a small campfire and gazed up at him expectantly when he climbed out. Had he been in the city, he would call it a homeless encampment, but they had homes whenthey weren’t fomentingtrouble.
“Did security shoot at you for trespassing?” heasked.
“Menendez land isn’t theirs,” Val said snottily. “We have permission to use that land. But we heard shouts and gunfire as we came down the path. They came from up near the lodge. Has anyone filed areport?”
“Just you. Has anyone come down from the lodge since you heard theshots?”
They were nicely located on the only car access to the inn, so they would see anyone making a vehicleescape.
“The big white Escalade Carmel uses,” Val said in satisfaction. “It went out right after we heard the shots and came back not long after. The engine will probably be cold by the time you get up therethough.”
Spoken like a true mystery aficionado. He wouldn’t have pegged Valasone.
“Go home. If I need you, I’ll let you know,” Walker said curtly, returning to hiscar.
That they were camping out here, reporting unusual occurrences probably meant that the Lucys were up tosomething.
Since the women might be slightly deranged but were generally not vindictive, he didn’t worry about them. He drove on up to the lodge, watching for any unusual activity.Most of the guests were sound asleep in their beds, if the darkened windows were anyindication.
