"What?" I looked at Jack, who shrugged. "What kind of book?"
"A ledger. Bunch of lines of numbers inside. And there was a note on it."
"Then we definitely need fingerprints. Did you call Susan?" Jack was already on his feet.
Being nosy, I had a different question. "What did the note say?"
"It said: Earl deserved to die."
8
We made it to Lorraine's in seven minutes, because no place in Dead End was more than a ten-minute drive away if you were motivated.
We werereallymotivated.
Jack drove, and I picked up my phone to call Susan.
"Wait," Jack said.
"What? Why? This is evidence. She's the sheriff. Don't we have a responsibility to report or something?"
"I'd like to get a look at that ledger before we turn it over. It may be our only chance to see it if Susan takes a hard line on this one. And if I'm going to have a prayer of getting Lorraine off the hook for a fifty-year-old murder, I need something—anything—to give me a place to start."
"But—"
"We'll use gloves. We'll be careful not to smudge any fingerprints that Lorraine hasn't already destroyed. But Tess. We need to see this."
I sighed. "You're right. I know you're right. This sounds stupid and small, but I'm so tired of feeling like I'm constantly in a murder mystery."
"Understandable. Maybe you could—" he glanced at me and shook his head. "No. I'm not even going to pretend to think you'd be willing to sit this one out."
"Not a chance. Turn right here. She still lives on the corner there."
"I remember." Jack's grin flashed in the reflected lights from the dash. "We were always careful not to TP her house at Halloween."
"I know. Nobody ever dared. Which makes it harder to imagine her ever putting up with someone who hurt her," I said softly. "I know there are so many reasons women get into these horrible situations and can't get out, and I know it can happen to anybody, but it's hard to wrap my brain around Lorraine being in that situation."
"Escaping is the most dangerous part," Jack said grimly. "Many abusers threaten to kill their victims if they ever leave. A lot of the vampires we fought kept entire 'flocks' of humans captive this way—out of the sheer fear of being murdered if they tried to leave. It was so similar that the new Vampire Victims' Care Association has built its organization around the principles of the best of the groups that assist domestic violence victims."
I shuddered. In the more than a decade since supernatural beings had outed themselves to the world, we'd all learned far more than we'd ever wanted to about the viciousness of some of them.
On the other hand, good people like Jack no longer had to hide who they were.
Jack pulled into a parking space on the street and we looked up at the lights blazing from Lorraine's windows.
"I doubt she's going to get any rest tonight," I said, worried. "She's not as young as she used to be. I wonder if we should call her doctor or something."
"First, let's get in there and see this ledger."
Lorraine pulled the door open before we could even knock. She seemed to have grown smaller overnight—or maybe I was seeing her as she really was, a tiny person with a giant heart. Normally, the force of her personality made her seem ten feet tall. Tonight, even her trademark white curls drooped.
"Lorraine, are you okay?"
She grabbed my hand and pulled me in the door. "Yes, yes, come in and see what you think. Jack, thank God you're here. Finally, we'll get someplace. Susan is great, but she's new at the job, and for her to arrest me on only the word of some out-of-town quack… well. She has a lot to answer for."
She might look tired, but she was as sharp as ever, night in the jail or not.
Lorraine was in her seventies, and I'd known her all my life. She was the head server, dining room manager, and occasional bouncer at Beau's, the only diner in Dead End, and she'd worked there forever. Over fifty years, apparently. She'd been mayor once for a while, stood maybe five feet tall, and had a personality as strong as a September hurricane in the Gulf.
