Chapter 22
Harlow hurried to keep up with her father’s long strides. They stepped onto the back porch and walked into the laundry room.
David unscrewed the clamps securing their dryer vent connector. “Hold this.”
She gripped the vent, holding it upright while David eased the snippers into the vent and began banging them around. “This could have been it…the noise I heard the night of the fire.”
Harlow’s mind whirled. “Caleb and the fire investigator think an accelerant was tossed into the laundry room, causing an explosion and the fire. Someone could have used these, or something similar, to cut a hole.”
“The vents were commercial grade and heavy duty, making it tougher to cut through. Tougher but probably not impossible.” David clenched the snippers tightly in his hand. “It’s too late.”
“Caleb took pictures before everything was torn down. He’ll help us figure out if this tool is a clue.”
“I jumped the gun, giving the green light to gut the place. Looking back, I should have held off on leveling the inn. I could kick myself.” He walked straight into his office and closed the door.
Harlow paced, feeling the same jumble of emotions she was certain her father was feeling. The multipurpose snippers could be a clue, but then maybe not. Maybe a maintenance person had lost them while working at the inn, but what were the odds of them ending up near Ginger’s favorite place and final resting spot?
Ding…ding…ding…ding, ding, ding.Harlow’s cell phone app chimed, the new app her father had installed notifying her that someone was at Lighthouse Lane.
She glanced at the clock. It was still too early for the construction crew.
Harlow tapped the camera icon and pulled up the video display of all four sides of the cottage. A flit of movement passed by the camera, the one mounted in the back and facing the path.
She tapped the screen and enlarged a single frame. Sure enough, a figure wearing dark clothes—a jacket, jeans and a ball cap—darted past and began creeping around the corner.
Tapping the screen a second time, Harlow returned to the original format of all four cameras. The person crept along the side of the house. Frame by frame, they stealthily moved to the entrance and tried the doorknob.
Harlow held her breath, watching as the trespasser pulled an object from their pocket and inserted the end into the lock. Wiggling the doorknob back and forth, they finally opened it. With a furtive glance over their shoulder, they slipped inside Lighthouse Lane and closed the door behind them.
Her heart hammering in her chest, Harlow promptly dialed 911.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“Someone just broke into my house.”
“Where are you?”
“Watching them on camera from my father’s house.” Feeling a sense of panic setting in, Harlow forced her voice to remain calm. “I saw them pick the lock and go inside. They’re inside right now.”
“What is the address?”
She gave the woman her address. “The house is empty. I’m having it renovated.”
“What is your name?”
“Harlow Wynn.”
“Did you say Harlow Wynn?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“A patrol unit has been dispatched.”
“Thank you.” Harlow ended the call and ran to her father’s office. She hovered in front of the closed door, hesitating for a fraction of a second. At the very least, she needed to let him know she was leaving.
She sucked in a breath and rapped loudly.
A muffled thump echoed. The door slowly opened. David, with a lost look on his face, gazed blankly at her. “Did you need something?”
