“You don’t have any messages,” she finally said with a distinct snap.
“Thanks.” Sarah threw in another smile, just to be a good sport before turning away. She’d gotten two steps away from the desk when the innkeeper’s wife spoke again.
“I don’t want you talking to my children.”
Sarah hesitated, considered ignoring the comment, but then she wouldn’t learn anything that way.
She faced the indignant lady. “Rest assured, Mrs. Harvey, you have nothing to fear from me. All I’m looking for is the truth. Unless, of course, you’re hiding relevant information that would help this investigation in some way.”
Brenda’s eyes flared wide, and the indignation shifted the tiniest bit, to something more like uncertainty or maybe fear. The transition roused Sarah’s curiosity. She’d been fishing, casting lines wherever and whenever. It was her tried-and-true strategy. Seemed she’d gotten a nibble.
“The Gerards and Appletons are friends of ours,” Brenda said firmly, but without the fire and brimstone of before. “If we knew anything at all, don’t you think we would have told the police?”
“I’m certain you would.” And yet, there was something the lady was worried about. Something she wasn’t about to tell a soul. Especially not Sarah.
“It’s just that Brady”—Brenda glanced in the direction her son had gone—“is taking all of this very hard.” She blinked several times, but the shine of emotion in her eyes wouldn’t be exiled. Nor would the palpable sense that she felt somehow cornered by Sarah’s very presence. “It’s difficult for us all ...”
Don’t say a word. As much as Sarah wanted to ask what she meant, she knew better than to break the spell. Let the woman talk. Don’t even breathe.
“My husband and I are worried sick. We don’t want our children exposed any more than they’ve already been. God only knows what might happen next. We don’t—”
“Brenda, have you seen—”
The innkeeper strode into the room, drew up short when his gaze bumped into Sarah. He looked from her to his wife. Suspicion immediately narrowed his gaze.
“Is there something you need, Ms. Newton?”
Here she went again. “No, thanks.”
He glared at his wife before cutting his attention back to Sarah.
That would be her cue to exit. Except that she stared at his face, specifically his left cheek. A little puffy, and the pale skin there was a deep reddish color as if he’d been punched or ... kicked.
The tingle of adrenaline rushed over her nerve endings as the images from last night’s encounter zoomed into high-def clarity in her mind’s eye. Right height ... right build ...
“Barton slipped on the ice last night when he was carrying in firewood,” his wife said. She sent a look of concern at her husband’s face. “Poor dear, almost gave himself a black eye.”
The innkeeper waved off her worries. “I should have been more careful.” He stared straight at Sarah then. “You can never be too careful in the dark. Especially this time of year.” His meaning was crystal clear.
He’d been the one and, on some level, he wanted her to know it.
“I’m always careful, Mr. Harvey,” Sarah returned, her own meaning unmistakable. “There’s no telling what or who you’ll run into.”
Their gazes held a moment longer before Sarah turned her back and headed for her room.
If the innkeeper thought he could scare her off, he should give it his best shot. Sure, he’d shaken her up last night, but she wasn’t running.
No way.
“I understand you’re leaving us,” he called after Sarah.
Was there an echo in this village?
Sarah paused near the newel post at the bottom of the staircase. She met the man’s haughty expression. “Not yet, Mr. Harvey. When the time comes, you’ll be the first to know.”
If looks could kill, Sarah would have dropped dead right there on the polished hardwood. Instead, she mounted the stairs to the second floor.
The harsh murmur of voices told her that Mr. Harvey was letting Mrs. Harvey know that she was not to be fraternizing with the inn’s one guest.
