the bell had lost its appeal on the third morning after it had been installed, when Mrs. Kainer had woken him at four-thirty to help search for her missing cat.
Ding-a-ling. Ding-a-ling.
He sighed and forced himself out of bed, then reached for the shirt hanging over his bedpost.Please don’t tell me someone’s dog is missing.
Though in truth, being woken up for a lost dog would be better than having someone be in danger.
“Sheriff Cummings, are ye in there?”
That voice, he’d recognize it anywhere, lilting and soft and unmistakably Irish. A voice he’d like to hear more than just at church on Sunday or when they happened to see each other around town. He shoved his arms through his shirtsleeves, then thudded across the floor while he started on his buttons.
He stuck his head out the window, revealing only the top of his shirt as he worked to button the bottom half. “Miss Brogan.”
She looked up at him, her rich red hair shoved hastily into an updo that looked as though it might come falling down anysecond. Even in the early morning light, her face and hands were the color of fresh cream.
“What’s wrong?” He furrowed his brow, his heavy eyelids suddenly having no trouble staying open. “Did someone break into the bakery again?”
“Nay.” She glanced around the empty street, then twisted her skirt in her hands. “Let me in. We need to talk.”
“I’ll be down in a minute.” He turned and grabbed his trousers hanging on the bedpost, then pulled them on along with his boots.
What was so wrong that Aileen couldn’t tell him through the window? This past fall there’d been a rash of robberies, and someone had broken into the bakery where she lived, leaving her an eerie sort of message.
But the man responsible had been caught just after Christmas and was now sitting in jail for the rest of his life.
Outside of the weekly drunken brawls at one of the town’s two bars, Eagle Harbor had been quiet until about a month ago, when a bit of vandalism had started. So far he’d dealt with ink being poured onto Mrs. Ranulfson’s dress while it hung on the line, Mr. Foley’s wagon bed having an ax taken to it, Mrs. Kainer having a rock thrown through a window of her boarding house, and a dead mouse on Mrs. Runkle’s doorstep.
Though that last one might have been a cat.
Had someone vandalized the bakery? He strapped on his holster and gun and headed downstairs into the sheriff’s office below his apartment, then hurried across the wide plank flooring and slid back the deadbolt.
Aileen wore a white shirtwaist and plain blue skirt. With the unusually pale shade of her face, the smattering of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks stood out like charcoal against snow. She twisted her hands together and looked around the empty street before stepping closer.
“Miss Brogan, what is it?” He nearly reached out to grip her hands, to see if he could stay the trembling, but stopped himself. Last time he’d tried reaching for her when she was upset, she’d jumped away from him so quickly she’d sent both herself and a chair crashing to the floor.
“I... th-think someone robbed the bank.”
He nearly choked. A bank robbery? In Eagle Harbor? He glanced around the street that suddenly seemed too still and peaceful, then stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind him.
“Let’s get Deputy Fletcher.” Fletcher could keep her safe, question her, and then escort her home while he and Deputy Granger had a look at the bank. “Tell me what you know on the way.”
He extended his arm to Miss Brogan, then started down North Street, a sick feeling twisting his stomach. He had his savings in that bank, as did his brother Elijah, and just about everyone else in town. The thick forest that rimmed Eagle Harbor offered too many places for criminals to hide. If someone truly had robbed the bank, he and everyone else in town would likely never get a lick of their money back.
She was a fool, an utter and complete fool.
Aileen stood with her back to the wall of the bank while the bank owner, Mr. Ranulfson, talked with Sheriff Cummings. Behind them, the safe door was open, and two bank workers and both of the sheriff’s deputies counted money—for the second time.
Yet nothing seemed to be missing. Here everyone had been woken up and called to the bank two hours early and she’d left Ellie to start work at the bakery by herself, and all for nothing.
Aileen took a step toward the door. Deputy Fletcher had already questioned her, but rather than let her return to work, he’d brought her to the bank, saying the sheriff probably wanted to speak with her. But then, Deputy Fletcher had also assumed the bank had been robbed when he’d said that.
No one seemed to notice the first step she’d taken toward the door. Deputy Fletcher was just as busy counting money as Deputy Granger, and the clerks hadn’t so much as glanced at her. Sheriff Cummings and Mr. Ranulfson had their backs to her while they studied the alley’s entrance to the bank.
She took another step, then another. Mayhap she’d come back during her lunch break and apologize for disrupting everyone’s morning. Or better yet, she’d bake an extra batch of cookies and deliver them when she apologized.
One more step took her out of the offices and into the empty lobby. The room was lovely, with rich dark walls and fancy rose-colored carpet that must have cost a fortune to ship to Eagle Harbor.
But nothing inside this lavish, showy room was for her. She’d never once had enough money set aside to save it in a bank, and she probably never would. Why bother with an account when she could just stash her extra money beneath one of the old floorboards in her room? And once she got enough to book passage to Ireland, there’d be no reason to stick the money in a fancy bank—she’d be buying her ticket immediately.
