Page 20 of Moonlit Hideaway
Sierra flipped the front seats forward, hoping against hope—but nope. The ammo box with the ten grand in cash was also gone.
Footsteps hurried toward her, and she realized she was still screaming as solid arms wrapped around her.
“Jane, what the heck?”
Hank pulled her away from the broken glass scattered on the pavement and whipped his head around as if the robbers were still in the vicinity.
“They… they took everything. My guitar. My clothes. My cash. Hank, what am I going to do?” Her knees wobbled so much she would have collapsed had he not held her up.
“I’m calling the sheriff. We’ll get your stuff back,” he said. “They couldn’t have left the island.”
By now, Emma, Howie, and Mabel had streamed out of the bed-and-breakfast and into the parking area.
“Dad, Dad, what happened?” Emma shouted while Mabel said, “Oh, my lord. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
“Mom, take care of Jane while I call the sheriff. Emma, Howie, let’s give them some room.” His phone was out, pressed to his ear as he reported the crime.
The Hattokwa Island Sheriff showed up in a matter of minutes. Sierra was mildly surprised when a woman emerged from theSUV. Hank had said he would speak to the sheriff and show her the crime scene, and as Sierra watched him shake hands with her and then point toward the lot and the inn, she felt an unfamiliar flutter in her chest. He was protecting her from the crime scene and letting her catch her breath.
Everything was falling apart for her, with Emma and Howie staring at her and Mabel treating her like an invalid, offering her hot tea and warm compresses and hovering over her like a nursemaid.
“Why were your things in the truck?” Emma asked with hurt in her eyes.
“I heard all this noise coming down the stairs last night,” Howie complained. “Must have been you moving out.”
“You were leaving? Why?” Emma tugged at her sleeve like a child with her nanny.
Mabel set a plate of eggs on the table. “Now, Emma, dear, school’s calling. Best not to dwell on troubles over breakfast. Jane, you might as well eat, too. Doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere.”
“Nothing like a little excitement in the boring off-season,” Howie said as he crunched on his bacon. “Sorry, you got robbed. Wonder if it’s that shifty-eyed guy I saw at the pier. Can’t trust anyone these days.”
“Oh, look at the time,” Mabel said, looking pointedly at Howie. “Didn’t that show of yours start already?”
Sierra mouthed a word of thanks to Hank’s mother while keeping one eye out the kitchen window.
The sheriff took pictures and headed toward the inn while talking to Hank. Sierra had no idea what would happen next. Her entire life, she stayed far from the police. She never even jaywalked. No one in her family ever called the cops. If something happened, they dealt with it themselves.
Out here in Hattokwa, she had no protection from the family. There was no one she could call to take care of things—no one like her dad’s fixer, who she’d had on speed dial.
“Now, Emma, don’t you be talking about Jane at school,” Mabel warned as the school bus halted in front of the inn.
But Emma was busily tapping on her phone. “Ed Carpenter’s golf cart got stolen. Think they used it to haul away the loot?”
“I’m sure Sheriff Ruth will connect the dots,” Mabel said. “Now, shoo, the bus is waiting.”
Emma picked up her book bag and looked in Sierra’s direction. “Don’t worry, Jane. I’ll figure out who stole your stuff, and we’ll get it back.”
“Thank you. Have a good day at school.” Sierra smiled at her innocence.
A knot of tension tightened on the back of her neck as Hank brought the sheriff into the bed-and-breakfast.
She had a sturdy build, short brown hair, and keen blue eyes that missed nothing. “You must be Jane, right?”
Sierra looked at Hank for direction, and he said, “Yes, Jane Dolan. Meet Sheriff Ruth Davis.”
The woman’s handshake was firm. “You can call me Ruth.”
Emma lingered, not wanting to miss the action and drama, but Hank gave her a kiss and guided her firmly through the front door to the bus, leaving Sierra to face the sheriff alone.
