Whatever was going on here, she would have to handle it herself.
She knew the smartest move would probably be to jump right into the Jeep and get the hell out of here. But this was her house, and Doc’s-she wasn’t about to abandon it to some wayward thief.
She took a few steps forward, avoiding the glass on the porch, and looked in through the door window. From here, she could see no one in the kitchen, no movement, no shadows that shouldn’t be there.
The place looked empty, but someone could still be here, in another part of the house.
She listened for a moment, holding her breath.
No stray footsteps, creaking floorboards, door hinges squeaking, heavy breathing-nothing to indicate that the person who had broken the window was still around.
Moving quickly and quietly, she pushed open the door, tiptoed to the kitchen closet, yanked it open, and pulled out Doc’s shotgun. Her eyes constantly scanning, on the lookout for a hostile intruder, she crossed to the junk drawer, pulled it open, and reached way in the back, her fingers groping for a box of cartridges. She grabbed half a dozen and pushed two into the gun’s magazine.
She pumped the action, thumbed off the safety, and tucked the butt into her shoulder, her finger resting lightly on the trigger guard.
She moved forward purposefully then, stepping first into the living room, turning a complete circle, searching everywhere at once, eyeing along the gun’s sights. Next, she went into Doc’s den at the back of the house. She searched quickly and thoroughly. Then on to the dining room, the downstairs bathroom, and the laundry room, working her way back to the kitchen.
Nothing.
She paused and listened again for any unfamiliar or revealing sound. But again, nothing.
Tucking the butt of the weapon deeper into her shoulder, lining up along the sights, she moved upstairs as carefully and quietly as possible. Naturally several of the steps creaked under her sneakers, but that couldn’t be helped.
Still, if anyone was up there waiting for her, they would know she was coming.
Adrenaline rushed through her body, her ears roared, her breathing sounded monstrously loud. But she ignored all those things. When she reached the top of the stairs, she moved efficiently, starting with the room to her left-a guest room. She checked the closet, under the bed, in the back corner behind the bureau.
Next was Doc’s bedroom. Same procedure, same results.
The upstairs bathroom, and then her room.
Five minutes later she was back downstairs in the damp, dimly lit basement, holding down her nervousness as she checked every corner, every shadow. Again, the search turned up nothing.
She lowered the shotgun and climbed the stairs back to the kitchen, her gaze still wandering watchfully. But she was fairly certain now that whoever had broken the window must have taken what they wanted and left.
Or maybe, she thought, it was just an accident-someone had come by to visit, gotten careless, and left guiltily before she and Doc arrived. But that seemed far-fetched.
More than likely, they had been robbed. Burglary was uncommon around these parts-some folks still left doors and windows unlocked-but not unheard of. Candy did a more thorough search of the house, still carrying the shotgun with her. Nothing seemed to have been taken-the TV, DVD player, checkbooks, and what little diamond jewelry she owned were all still in their places. Even the engagement ring Clark had given her way back when was still tucked into its place in a corner of her jewelry box.
She walked back into the kitchen. That’s when she noticed what was missing.
Sapphire’s files were gone-all of them.
Last she remembered, they had been sitting on the table in two piles, in front of Doc. Could he have taken them? It was possible, she thought, but that didn’t make sense. Where would he have taken them, and why hadn’t he told her if he had?
No, someone else must have taken them-someone who broke into their house for that purpose. But who? Who even knew she had them? She hadn’t told anyone about the files, except Herr Georg that morning, and she told him only about his own file. He couldn’t have known she had more. Ben knew she had some files, of course, and Maggie. But why would they steal the files from her? They could have had access to the files at any time-all they had to do was ask.
Candy was about to pick up the phone and call the police to report the break-in when it rang, making her nearly jump out of her skin.
“Damn, I hate phones,” she muttered to herself as she set the shotgun aside and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Candy! It’s Maggie!”
“Oh, hi, I-”
“Amanda’s gone!” Maggie cut in, sounding almost hysterical. “She’s run away! With Cameron!”
“What?”
“Amanda and Cameron-they’re gone! They took off!”
“Took off? Where? When?”
“I don’t know. I just got home. Amanda left a note. They must have left sometime this morning, after I went to work. They took Cameron’s car.”
Inexorably, Candy’s gaze was drawn to the place where Sapphire’s files had been.
“Cameron!” she shouted in realization. “That’s who took them! He’s the only other person who knew about them!”
“Knew about what?”
“Never mind. I’ll tell you later. Do you know where they went?”
Candy could sense Maggie’s anxiety. “I… I’m not sure. What’s going on? What’s this all about?”
“I don’t know yet,” Candy said, “but we’re going to find out. Stay where you are. I’m coming to you. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
After she hung up, Candy made one more call, to the police station. She left word with Carol at the front desk, asking her to pass a message on to Doc: The house had been broken into. He needed to get back home as soon as possible.
Then she grabbed her purse and keys and headed out to the Jeep, sighing as she went. She had hoped to spend a quiet evening at home with a glass of wine and perhaps a good book. But it was not meant to be. She had more important things to do now.
Cameron. She shook her head in disbelief as she climbed into the front seat and started the engine. How had he got himself mixed up in all this? Why had he been so upset to hear about Sapphire’s death? What had he been doing in her secret room? And why would he have stolen the files?
What was he trying to hide?
She didn’t know, but she promised herself she would find out, one way or the other.
THIRTY
Maggie threw up her hands, deep frustration showing on her face. “I can’t believe they’re doing this to me. What are they up to? Where can they be? We’ve checked everywhere.”
Candy nodded. It’s true, she thought, both hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. She felt edgy, ragged, and thirsty; her brain hurt and her fingers felt numb. She knew she was rapidly wearing out-it had been a long day, and it showed no signs of ending soon.
They had been combing the town for the past two hours, starting at Cameron’s home, which they found dark and lifeless, then on to all his favorite haunts, including McCoy’s, the only burger joint in town, where the high school kids hung out in the summer evenings, and the teen center in the basement of the Episcopal church. They had come up empty everywhere they looked. Maggie had tried to use her cell phone to call folks around town, to ask if anyone had seen Cameron and Amanda, but the reception was lousy, fading in and out. It was sporadic even on a good day, which was why Candy had gotten out of the habit of carrying her own cell phone. But when inclement weather set in, it was near impossible to get a signal-so they had been forced to stop back at Maggie’s house to use a land line. They wasted another twenty minutes there, and even that effort turned up nothing positive.
That’s when Candy had an idea, and that brought them here, to Sapphire’s house, less than twenty-four hours after they had broken into the place.