Betsy suddenly felt more alone than she had for the past few weeks. Somehow, she’d gotten used to having Cain around. Liked the way they’d settled into a nightly routine of love making. How they’d talk about this and that, over and over, sharing emotions and dreams and plans. No, truth be told, she hadn’t shared her dreams and plans, but Cain had. She hadn’t even given him that much of her, only her passion and emotions.
If he came back tonight, she needed to rectify her part of their relationship. That was, if they still had a relationship. Or had she imagined everything?
She wrapped Marcy in another hug, then pointed in the soda fountain’s direction. “Now go grab those drinks and hurry back before Summer and I have planned your entire baby shower.”
Marcy beeped the SUV open.
“Hey, since the security system is broken, I’ll lock the door from inside. Press the buzzer when you get back.”
Her sister shot her a thumbs-up as she slid in and drove away.
Betsy shut the door and flipped the lock. Without missing a beat, Summer and Betsy went back to organizing some of the clutter that had been made by whoever was targeting her and the dealership. The destruction was bad enough, but the unanswered why question was tied with the who. Even with the information Shadow had shared yesterday there were still way more questions than answers.
She walked into the front display room and was greeted with only the occasional stripe of winter sunshine oozing through between the four-by-twelve plywood sheets covering the shattered windows. “Summer, you’re a good PI. Do you have any theories about what’s going on, with all that’s happened here in Crayton the past few days?”
Her sister walked over to one of the shiny red new cars, hot off the line. “Not really. If I lived closer, I’d have a network of contacts. But from St. Louis to here is not only a lot of time and miles, it’s a totally different feel.”
“Just thought I’d ask.”
“One thing I will say is, you need to be careful. I’ve handled a lot of cases. There’s petty vandalism. And there’s big city crime. Something about this doesn’t feel small town. Feels professional. Planned. Direct. That’s all I can give you.”
Betsy sighed. “That at least helps me know I’m not just imagining the danger.”
“You’re not. And I’m sure Cain and JB and Uncle Cal and Truman would tell you the same thing.” Slowly, Summer ran her fingers down the ugly scratch on the door panel. “Will they be able to fix this?”
“I hope so. You’d be amazed at what they can do with paint nowadays.” She led the way back to her office. “Marcy should be back soon. Maybe we can get her to let us go with her over to Truman and Sadie’s place. I’d love to be there when they tell Mama about the baby.”
“Agreed.” Summer sat in one of the customer chairs in front of the desk. “Mama will be beside herself with excitement over a grandchild.”
Betsy’s phone beeped with an incoming text, but as she reached to check the message, a noise near the back door caught their attention. The doorknob jiggled.
Betsy quickly laid her phone down and held up one hand to stop the conversation. She placed her finger over her lips with the other. Summer silently mouthed Marcy? Betsy shook her head. Uneasy, she moved cautiously to her chair and opened her bottom drawer, slid open the fake bottom panel concealing her gun.
Empty. The gun had been there yesterday when she checked prior to the insurance agent arriving. Now the secret compartment was completely empty. Not even the holster or extra bullets had been left.
The back door deadbolt clicked, which meant someone with a key was coming inside.
She glanced at Summer. “Gun?”
“It’s in my lock box at the house.” Shaking her head, she took a step closer. “And I forgot to charge my phone last night.”
The ding of the back door opening ratcheted Betsy’s fearful apprehension up a few notches. A mingle of muffled men’s voices made trepidation soar. Each of the women reached for their phone.
Betsy motioned Summer to hide in the attached office storage room. “Don’t come out unless I call you by your full name.”
“Got it.” Summer grabbed the stapler and three-hole punch from the top of the file cabinet, then disappeared into the room, pulling the door closed behind her.
“Who’s there?” Betsy loudly asked as she shoved a small table and stacks of boxes in front of the storage room door to camouflage the idea of anyone being in there. “I heard you come inside. Tell me who’s there or I call the police.”
“It’s me, Papa Carrington. Didn’t mean to scare you. Didn’t see your car parked by the back door. Figured no one was here.”
He stepped into the office wearing a coat over what looked like his hospital gown and a pair of orderly pants. Dragging the brown house shoes he was wearing along the floor, he shuffled weakly toward the chair.
Inconspicuously, Betsy shoved her phone in her pocket before racing around the desk to steady him as he bent to sit. A heavy half-groan, half-sigh seemed to explode out of his mouth.
“What are you doing out of the hospital?” Betsy asked as she noticed a large bump with the beginning of a bruise on his forehead. She touched it lightly then saw a slight trickle of blood from a cut along his eyebrow. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”
“I’m sorry, Betsy. Truly sorry, but there’s nothing I can do now.” He laid one hand on hers and gripped her wrist with the other. “I can’t protect you any longer.”
