“I just came by to warn you. Those robbers today weren’t amateurs. They mean business.”
“Already heard it,” I told him. “FBI Agent Stone was here a short time ago. He gave us the whole ‘keep your head down’ lecture.”
Worry spiked in my dad’s eyes. “You need to be careful. If these robbers get hold of a list of safety deposit boxes that were already empty, they just might come your way.”
Ian sat forward in his chair. “I can assure you, Sheriff, that we’ll be careful.”
Dad nodded. “I’m sure you will be Ian. It’s her,”—he gave a nod at me—“I’m not so sure of, as usual.”
I grinned. “You know me so well, but I know you just as well, and you could have handled that message with a simple phone call. So, what’s the real reason you showed up on my deck?”
That had my dad grinning as well. “If you know me so well, you tell me.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Mom told you to pick up something for supper and you didn’t feel like fighting your way through the Willow Lake Market, especially with the summer people being here, after the day you’ve had. So, you figured my prepped storeroom would do just fine.”
His grin spread. “You got it. Why go to the trouble of buying food when my daughter is a prepper and runs an unofficial grocery store?”
I pushed up from my chair, Ian following. “Fine. Come on.”
We walked through the kitchen, my storeroom just behind it. I undid the locks, glancing down at Mo, who had joined us, hearing the word storeroom.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I warned him.
“Good, Lord, no,” Ian said. “The last time he got into the storeroom he ate a bunch of jerky and the smell—” Ian gagged just thinking about it.
My dad laughed. “Killer farts, huh.”
Ian gagged again.
I clicked on the lights, revealing the neat rows of shelves that now stretched twice as far as they used to. Ever since I’d moved my office up to the attic and had the wall that once separated my office removed, the space had blossomed into what looked suspiciously like a corner market. Jars, cans, sealed bags, and bins all labeled and lined in order, and a freezer in the middle that served as a great counter when needed.
Dad gave a low whistle. “Better stocked than Willow Lake Market.”
“I aim higher than Willow Lake Market,” I said teasingly. “And no wandering the shelves. Pick a pre-stocked, quick meal in a crate.”
I pointed to the row of baskets and wooden crates stacked neatly to the side. “One crate holds one meal. Everything included, even the spices.”
Dad crouched, scanned the labels, and plucked one free. “Pasta with penne vodka sauce,” he read, then peered inside. “Mac and cheese and your own canned chili, plus some hot spices…” He grinned. “Easier and more delicious than a supermarket run, and a favorite meal of mine.”
“That’s the point,” I said, with pride. “A quick and easy meal with the snatch of a small crate.”
Ian handed my da one of the cloth bags I kept for just a moment like this.
“Works for me,” my dad said, placing the basket on the top of the freezer to transfer the items from the basket into the cloth bag. “You really are prepped and prepared, Pepper.”
I smiled at my dad for using my logo. “I should be since I’m a prepper and apparently, I’m also the family’s grocery store.”
My dad gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Appreciate the meal. And Pepper—be careful.”
“No worries, Dad,” I said, though I knew he’d worry anyway.
I went with my dad to the front door and left Ian to lock up the storeroom tightly, to Mo’s disappointment.
“I mean it, Pepper,” my dad said, stepping out onto the front porch. “You really do need to be careful. Marie, at the bank, told me she doubted the robbers knew what box belonged to who, though they did seem to pick certain boxes to drill open.”
“Then I should be safe,” I assured him.
“Possibly, but be extra vigilant anyway, so I can worry less.”
