Текст книги "Shattered Secrets"

Автор книги: Karen Harper

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

18

Tess heard glass shatter. Shards clattered in the sink and flew across the kitchen floor to where she huddled under the table.

“Tess! Tess, are you all right?”

Dad was home. She’d meant to call him.

A man climbed through the broken window over the sink, stepped right in the sink! He moved the chair by her head, bent down and touched the side of her neck with two fingers. He kicked broken glass away, then gently lifted her out from under the table. It was Gabe. Why did he break her window? She would have let him in.

He sat on a kitchen chair and pulled her into his lap. She clung to him.

“Tess, what happened? Was someone here?”

He’d closed the refrigerator door, but the ceiling light was on. It was bright and hurt her eyes, but she was so glad to see him.

“I’ve got to get you to the doctor. I’m calling him,” he said. He suddenly had a phone and started punching in numbers. She remembered that Gabe—no, it was his father then—had called for the doctor to look her over when she was found. But that wasn’t now. She didn’t recall anything except nightmares, wasn’t sure why she was here on the floor. She must have fallen and hit her head.

He talked into the phone while she cuddled against him. He steadied her with his free arm. “Yeah, no, not poison, Jeff. She’s conscious, looking a little better than she did a minute ago. It would take too long to get a squad out here to take her into the Chillicothe E.R. I know it’s nearly ten, but can you meet us at your office? Yeah, her pupils are dilated. Keep her alert, right, okay. Listen, we’ll need blood and urine samples, because there’s an open bottle of wine on the counter, and she might have been drugged by something. Yeah, we’ll be there in fifteen minutes. She can’t just be drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” she protested, but he ignored her as he called Vic and told him to get Mike over to take prints in the kitchen. She was able to concentrate a little better as he spoke. “No, I’ll bag the bottle, take it with me, and we’ll have the contents checked later. Can’t let it out of my sight or someone could get in here before Mike does, try to remove the evidence. I know tox tests take a lot of time, but it’s important we know what’s in her since we might be dealing with Dane’s drugs now.”

It’s important we know what’s in her. The words floated through her brain as he kept talking. Tess thought about what was in her. Sadness and regret. Memories that would not shake loose. Fear because someone had done this to her. And the need and desire for this man was in her. She might have been back here only five days, but had she cared for Gabe for years? Wanted his attention even when she was little? Felt sorry he was blamed when she was taken? But taken where? Would she ever remember who did this to her?

“Okay, Tess, we’re going to take another ride in my cruiser,” Gabe said. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Stay awake,” he insisted, rubbing her hands, one at a time, then lightly slapping her cheeks.

“The sheriff broke into a house,” she said suddenly with the urge to giggle. “And now I’m going in his police car, under arrest, under duress...I don’t know.”

“How much wine did you drink or what else?” he asked, getting them both up, then sitting her in the chair while he found the top for the bottle, put a paper napkin over it and screwed it on. Still touching the bottle only with the napkin, he put it on the table. She didn’t want to look at it, only at him.

“I can’t exactly remember,” she said, slurring her words. “I think I had bad dreams. So, what’s new, right?”

“I want you to tell me every one of your dreams.”

She felt giddy. “It means a lot when a gentleman caller asks a lady to share her dreams with him.”

“Keep talking.”

“Gabe, don’t leave me!” she cried when he walked out of the room, but he came right back with her jacket and helped her put it on.

“Don’t nod off,” he ordered when she yawned. “Did you get the door locks changed when you took this place over from Lee and Grace?”

She tried to remember. She felt spaced out. Her thoughts were all gummy. “No,” she managed to say, “but Mom changed them all after I was taken and then again after Dad left. I didn’t think to do it.”

“My fault not to ask earlier. You should have. Who knows who had keys when Lee and Grace were living here, including their dictator Monson? I’ll have to ask them.”

“If you can get near them. They have guards at Hear Ye.” She was pleased her thoughts were clearing, but it almost hurt to think.

“I know. But they’ll probably be at the farmer’s market uptown Saturday. Okay, now hang on to me. Upsa-daisy,” he said as he lifted her to her feet and steadied her with his hands on her waist.

Upsa-daisy? Why did he say that? She didn’t like that. It made her think she was a kid again and...and she did not want to remember that, even though she knew she had to.

“What good will it do to lock the door?” she asked as he made her take steps while he propped her up. He took the bottle along too. Maybe she should give up wine, at least in Cold Creek. Her legs were a little wobbly, but she was walking. “Someone could come in that window,” she added as if he didn’t get what she meant.

“I’ll put police tape over it, and we’ll get it fixed—and your locks changed—first thing in the morning. We’re going to Dr. Nelson’s. Then you’ll stay with me again.”

That sounded good to her. Though her head was clearing, her thoughts were dark. Whoever had done this wanted to scare and hurt her, maybe even worse than that.

* * *

Tess woke with a jolt. It was light. She saw an unfamiliar ceiling and room. She realized she was under a quilt on Gabe’s couch, and he was slumped in a chair he’d pulled up close. She had no shoes on but was dressed in her clothes, which must be a wrinkled mess. She started to remember. She’d been to the doctor last night after...after she’d blacked out and then Gabe came. He wasn’t dressed in his uniform now but jeans and a sweatshirt.

“You awake?” he asked the obvious when she looked at him. “It’s eight. Friday morning. How do you feel?” His voice was gravelly, and his beard stubble made his face look dirty. His usually police-sharp hair was mussed.

“I feel tired. That train I hear in my head sometimes—I think it hit me.” She scooted herself up to a sitting position, pulling the quilt up higher too.

“Dizzy, nauseated? Doc Nelson said you might be.”

“Just hungry, I think. Wow, don’t buy cheap wine at the Kwik Shop.”

“You giggled and cried last night. Talked in your sleep too. I would have taken notes, but you weren’t making any sense.”

“Nothing makes sense anymore.”

“Can you remember anything after you drank the wine or during the night?”

“No. Maybe it was another amnesia drug. Maybe my kidnapper came calling again,” she said with a shiver. “Did you get the search warrant for Dane’s place?”

“At least your head’s okay on what happened before you got blasted. Not yet. The judge was holding it up until she heard new evidence, but the fact that Dr. Stevens has perjured herself in a deposition means I should get it soon. The judge is obviously reluctant since the warrant my dad, ‘the previous Sheriff McCord,’ as she puts it, failed to pin anything on Dane when he served him with a search warrant twenty years ago. I told her double jeopardy should not figure in here, since Dane wasn’t arraigned or tried before. She took offense since I was lecturing her about a legal matter, but I think she’ll get me the warrant. The case is too hot not to.”

“And are you going to talk to Reese Owens?”

“Thank God you’re all right. We just have to keep drugs and booze out of your system. Stay right there while I fix us some juice and coffee. Oh, yeah, I’ll talk to Reese,” he said as he stretched his big frame, then went into the kitchen. “He’s in Cincinnati until tomorrow morning, and I’m not doing that over the phone.”

“I hope I feel better by tomorrow,” she said, rubbing both eyes. “I’d like to go to the farmers’ market. I want to see my family if they come with the Hear Ye people.”

“Let’s just see how you do with food and walking on your own today—you need some rest. Doc Nelson thought you might have ingested something like a date rape drug. They’re short-term but made worse by being mixed with any kind of alcohol. I’ll take you over to your house to pack up some things but you’re staying here.”

He came back with two huge glasses of orange juice. A date rape drug? And then she’d spent the night here with him....

Thank God she could trust Gabe. Because there was obviously someone in Cold Creek who’d been watching her, who wanted her out of here one way or another. That terrified her but made her angry enough not to leave until they found Sandy Kenton.

* * *

After breakfast, Gabe shaved and changed into his uniform, they picked up some things at her house and he checked everything there again. Nothing else seemed amiss. He called the hardware store to order new locks and a window. He took her back to his house and left, returning for lunch, still stewing he didn’t have his search warrant yet.

“You’d think there’s someone pulling the strings for Dane, just like for Reese,” he groused as he quickly ate the lunch she’d made, before heading back to the office. She felt as if she was married to him—and spending most of the time on her own. He said Vic was going to want to talk to her, but right now he was busy trying to locate a housekeeper who had recently worked for Reese Owens and his wife.

Tess locked up after Gabe left each time. She’d asked his permission to go up to his war room to look it all over again, hoping, as ever, to recall something useful. But she sat up there, studying the walls for an hour, while the wind kicked up and the house creaked. Feeling haunted, not by the house or even what had happened to her yesterday, but by the faces—her own and her family’s included—staring at her from the walls, she went back downstairs to wait for him.

He called and said he’d be there in a while, just a little late. It got dark so early now. Though she hadn’t heard his car, she jumped up to greet him when she heard him at the back door. She started to open it for him, then hesitated. No footsteps, no key turning in the lock.

When she tried to look out the window in the door, she saw it was blocked by a piece of cardboard or paper. She wondered if Gabe had done that to keep someone from looking in. But no, a crude drawing and printed words faced inward. Done in crayon, it depicted figures of three girls. Big tears dropped from the eyes of the smallest one. It looked so familiar. Suddenly she was certain she had drawn it. Was she hallucinating again? Were more memories coming back?

She read the words under the figures. YOU BAD GIRL! YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME!

She heard a voice from the past. She wanted to hide, had to hide! She rushed toward the closet in the hall, opened it to throw herself behind the hanging coats before she realized where she was. She took a deep breath. She was an adult, not a terrified child! She tried to recall more than her terror, but nothing else came, and she collapsed to her knees in tears.

* * *

Tess and Gabe stared at the drawing with the note he’d brought inside. “At first, I thought I might be hallucinating again,” Tess said. “But I’m okay now, and I’m positive I drew that. I do remember drawing Kate, Char and me many times, but since I’m crying here—I must have drawn that during my time away or just after.”

“So you did drawings like this while you were in captivity?” he asked as they huddled over the paper at the kitchen table. “Your abductor evidently let you draw, gave you crayons and paper.”

They had both collapsed in kitchen chairs. He’d scooted his so close to hers that their heads almost touched. She could hear him breathe, feel his deep voice when he spoke.

“Yes, I think so. But this possibly could have been done when I got back home. Mom got me some counseling through the church, and they had me draw what I remembered—which was only this. Me so sad and scared and missing my sisters.”

“I didn’t know about the counseling. Maybe we can find out who worked with you, contact them for memories. Can you recall anything else connected with this?”

“I sure as heck didn’t write that message. Mike’s going to have to get prints off this too.”

“And I’d bet we’re dealing with someone who’s too clever to leave prints. Mike found none on the wine bottle but yours.”

“And to think I could have seen who it was if I’d just looked outside at the right time!”

“Or if I’d driven in earlier. But it was already dark outside. Tess, don’t keep beating yourself up,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders, “because someone else is trying to do it. I’m just grateful you didn’t open the door when you thought it was me.”

“Whoever it was probably comes out of the cornfield, does his dirty work in your backyard or mine, like he did twenty years ago, then runs back home, maybe with that light I saw moving through the corn the previous night. Can we beg or demand that Aaron Kurtz cut the field early?”

Gabe slumped back in his chair and sighed as his gaze met hers. “You know Aaron Kurtz’s visit to the doctor his wife mentioned to us? It wasn’t to Jeff Nelson here in town. He went into Columbus to see what the pain in his legs was, and he’s flat on his back there for a while with a blood clot.”

“So we can’t bother him with that right now. Doesn’t he have others working for him who could cut the field?”

“Other farmers will step in to help, but we’ve got this field for at least a week or so. It was planted late anyway, and Aaron’s going to need the yield from it. Doc Nelson says he’s always been so independent and in good health that he doesn’t have much insurance. But listen, now that my place isn’t even a safe house anymore, I’ll understand if you want to leave town. You’re not remembering what we need, and you’re obviously in danger. I’ll try to sell the house for you so you won’t have to pay a middleman. Maybe you should head home—to Michigan—until this is all over,” he said, taking her hand. Their grips tightened as their fingers entwined.

“I don’t know. I’m scared, but I’m really angry now. You have enough to do without worrying about watching a house you’re trying to sell. And who knows if the person who did this is desperate enough to follow me, where I wouldn’t have you around. I want to stay at least over the weekend to think it over, go to the farmers’ market to see my family, if I can get to them without Bright Star hovering.”

“In that case, starting tomorrow, I’m going to ask Vic Reingold to move in here too. He has to drive too far to get here fast anyway. Taking turns, with my deputy’s help, we can keep a better eye on you.”

“And I still might remember something, even if I need to be jolted, like seeing that drawing. And those words—the ‘bad girl’ part. I know I was called that and I think it ties to being smacked with that stupid scarecrow.”

Standing, then pulling her to her feet, he put both arms around her. She clung to him hard, her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. Whatever horrors had happened before or were to come, his tenderness, his touch right now, made all that almost worth it.

19

Saturday morning, Gabe followed Tess as she drove into town and parked. He went to check in at the station before he walked down to mingle with the crowd at the farmers’ market. Jace Miller was working traffic in the area and making an occasional sweep of the roads farther out, including driving by Dane’s house now and then. Vic was moving his things into Gabe’s, then coming to the market. In the BCI lab van in the police station parking lot, Mike was checking for fingerprints on the paper that had been taped to Gabe’s back door. With all those allies around and in the crowd, Tess almost felt safe.

She was happy that a man from the hardware store had already put in a new kitchen window, changed the locks on her doors and given her the new keys. When Gabe spoke around here, people jumped.

On Main Street, Tess strolled through the rows of tables and booths. They had sprouted overnight while through traffic was diverted a block away. It was quite a sight with autumn bounty piled high. A mix of townsfolk of all ages, some who must be Lake Azure residents and many outsiders who’d driven in for the market, were strolling and buying. Some ate baked goods or apples right on the spot. It seemed everyone was carrying cups or plastic jugs of cider. People walked their dogs while they shopped. Tess was glad to see that kids young enough to be in strollers were pushed by their parents while preschool and elementary kids were kept within close reach. Even in a crowd like this, children needed to be watched. The bustle almost made her forget how wobbly her legs had been yesterday and how much she had slept. Her thoughts were still a little fuzzy at times.

The earthy sights and smells helped her settle down, that was, until she saw the mayor glad-handing everyone who walked past. He’d plunked himself down on a bench that she did not recall being there before. She saw his wife, Lillian, too. What a mismatch they were. She always looked so put-together and stylish, despite the fact that she’d gained weight over the years. Marian Bell was standing over them, talking and gesturing. Tess wondered if Marian sensed they knew something about her child’s disappearance.

Tess walked behind the bench so she wouldn’t have to face them and strolled past tables with pyramids of gold and red apples and piles of squash. The Community Church had a small mountain of pumpkins set up for this event. She smiled when she read the sign. All You Can Carry, $2. Globes of red and white onions, brown and reddish potatoes, even braided garlic, smelled of garden-rich loam from being buried in the ground.

She stopped walking. The movement, the buzz of noise around her, seemed to stop. That thought—buried in the ground—almost triggered a memory in her, but it flew just out of reach. She looked around to see if anyone was watching. Blessedly, no. Everything was normal, busy. It felt so good just to be part of the crowd.

She strolled past a booth that offered late-blooming herbs, another with gleaming glass jars identified by handwritten labels: honey, maple syrup, molasses and sorghum. Several booths offered bakery goods, home-baked pies, donuts, cakes and loaves of bread. She bought some eight-grain bread, then couldn’t wait to get home to eat it, so she tore off a chunk and started chewing.

She took a wide berth around the next table. Sam Jeffers was selling animal pelts he had spread on a table with a few attached to a Peg-Board with a crudely printed sign showing his prices. She found it hard to believe, but he had buyers too.

Tess studied the man’s printing on the sign, but it seemed cruder than that on the stick figure drawing. Still, she walked even faster to get several tables away from him and those pelts.

She saw Dane’s sister, Marva, had a table promoting her tanning salon. It looked as if she was giving out nail files, which Tess could use, but she just wasn’t up to talking to Marva. As soon as Gabe got his warrant, she figured Marva’s friendship as well as Dane’s phony kindness to her would go up in smoke anyway.

To her surprise, Miss Etta had a table with books and magazines spread out on it, though ever so neatly. And she had a huge plastic pump bottle there for browsers—and no doubt, herself—to sanitize their hands.

“Oh, Tess, come over here,” she called, gesturing her closer. “This is just another of my endeavors to make learning part of this community, to get others to read. With some of the folks around here, if they so much as read a newspaper or a store coupon, it makes my day, but those little phones and tablets with picture screens are killing all sorts of real books. Now, most of these are discards, but if I give them away in trade for a new library card—” she leaned forward to tap a pile of temporary, paper ones “—maybe it will make a difference in someone’s life. By the way,” she added, gesturing for Tess to sit in the second chair she had behind the table. “How were those books I loaned you? Help ring any bells?”

“A few. They made me think, if not remember. I can’t stop right now though, Miss Etta. I want to find my cousins if they’re here with the commune people.”

“They are, though I didn’t see their children with them. It’s all business on Saturdays for them to sell things, but how that group makes ends meet beyond those sales is a puzzle, though I heard a rumor they might sell their land for some sort of oil drilling. Their illustrious ruler,” she added with a roll of her eyes, “doesn’t like his subjects holding regular jobs.”

The wiry woman turned away to extend a magazine with a motorcycle on it toward a couple of teenage boys slouching past. She tapped the sign, Free Reads for a Temp Card, and the boys stepped forward to sign up. Not much Miss Etta didn’t think of. It seemed as easy as baiting a hook and fishing.

“You look peaked, Tess. Are you all right?” she asked when the boys drifted off, and the woman quickly pumped gel sanitizer on her hands.

“Just not sleeping like I should yet.”

“Yet? I hope you don’t mean since the tragedy twenty years ago. Well, you just stop by—or I’ll bring the bookmobile past—and you can get a nonfiction book on relaxation techniques. You know, medical research has been proving that everything from weight loss to resistance to illnesses depends on getting a good night’s sleep. On the other hand, dependence on something like sleeping pills can create new problems.”

Tess made her escape when Miss Etta started to talk to two women about scrapbooking. She passed a man selling handmade birdhouses, and then, at the end of the row of vendors, she saw the Hear Ye people behind a series of oilcloth-covered tables.

Looking for Lee and Gracie, she skimmed over those working. Miss Etta had said they were here, but, with the Hear Ye members all having similar clothing and hairstyles, they seemed to blur together. So much for American individuality, Tess thought, although the bounty of their offerings was diverse. Beautifully woven baskets were filled with bittersweet, walnuts or wildflowers. Mesh sacks contained walnuts in the shell and there were glass jars of them already shelled. She looked at painted wooden plaques with sayings on them like It is more blessed to give than to receive. Tess wondered if that was a hint that people should give them a tip when they purchased something.

“Looking for Lee and Grace?” a voice behind her said.

She turned. Bright Star Monson seemed to have materialized from the crowd.

“Yes, I am.”

“It’s their turn to carry sacks of things to people’s cars, a kindly gesture, going the extra mile. Now, let’s see,” he said, smiling as his eyes went over her, and he tapped an index finger against his chin. “If I ordered a plaque made expressly for you, it would say something like For the Lord has called you like a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit. And should you continue to feel that way, Tess Lockwood, you will always have a place with your cousins and with all the brothers and sisters of our flock.”

She stood mute for a moment. Not only because he’d dared to think she would ever join them but because he’d spoken about a woman forsaken and grieved. Could he read her so well in the little time she’d been near him? Had Lee or Gracie told him much about her?

This man gave her the chills. If Dane Thompson or Reese Owens did not pan out as suspects, Bright Star Monson should be number three on Gabe’s list, just for the bad vibe he gave off.

“I’ll look for them later,” she said, eager to get away from him. “I hope you have a good day selling things.”

“Always,” he intoned as she turned and walked away. In the crowd, she nearly bumped into Vic Reingold, who took her elbow and steered her along.

“I was keeping an eye on the mayor and him,” Vic told her. “I can tell Monson bugs you. Is it because of the here and now, or does he ring any bells?”

“If he does, they’re not conscious ones,” she said, remembering how Miss Etta had used the same phrase about ringing bells a few minutes ago. “No one really rings my bell, and that’s my problem.”

“And ours too,” he said. “Gabe’s around here somewhere—everywhere, actually, he’s good at mingling—but I don’t think he’d mind if I got you off your feet for a while, after your bad experience Thursday night. How about the English pub while we get something to eat and drink—no booze for you. You, my girl, are on the wine wagon.”

She forced a little smile. “All right. I was hoping to talk to my cousins, but it would be just like Bright Star to have hidden them from me. I’m still tired after what happened—being drugged, I mean,” she said, wondering if he knew she’d spent that night at Gabe’s house.

The man was chewing on a toothpick, which he spit out into a trash can as they walked past the police station toward the pub. If Vic thought he was going to get something out of her, she was hoping to turn the tables on him.

* * *

“Of course I’ll be at the prayer vigil for Sandy at the church tomorrow night,” Gabe told Pastor Snell. “Deputy Miller and I will be glad to provide security too. And my prayer is we’ll have Sandy back by then. I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Pastor.”

“Of course. If I can help with anything...”

“Tess Lockwood only recalled recently that after she returned from her kidnap ordeal, her mother got her some sort of counseling through your church. Would you know who spent time with her?”

“If I recall, it was Melanie Parkinson, not a child psychiatrist but she had a psychology background. Unfortunately she moved to Columbus a good time ago when her husband took a job there. I’m afraid I’ve lost contact with the Parkinsons, but I can inquire if others who knew her still have ties.”

“I’d really appreciate that. And as soon as possible.”

“I understand time is of the essence, if this ties at all to getting Sandy back—maybe the other girls—the way we were blessed to have Teresa returned. I’ll try to locate Melanie as soon as I can and get back to you.”

When they parted, Gabe walked through the cars parked in the church lot and spotted Grace and Lee Lockwood. He had no intention of telling them what sort of harassment Tess had suffered lately, but he did want to ask them who might have had keys to her house. As he got closer, he saw they were loading sacks of produce into an SUV for someone who looked like an outsider. He waited a row of cars over until the SUV drove out and Grace and Lee walked back his way.

“Hey,” Gabe said, greeting them. “How are things going at the Hear Ye tables today?”

“Great,” Grace said with a tentative smile. She immediately looked toward Lee rather than saying more. She used to be quite a talker, he recalled.

When Lee only nodded and started in about the beautiful autumn weather, Gabe directed the conversation where he wanted it to go. “Listen, I told Tess for safety’s sake when she sold the house she’d have to tell the buyers to get all the locks rekeyed. But for now, do either of you still have keys you could give her, or does anyone else have them? She’ll need some extras if she decides to use a Realtor so she can get back home to Michigan.”

“Oh, dear,” Grace said. “If she’s having trouble selling, I hope she doesn’t leave early. I...I know she feels she hasn’t had enough time with us, the children, especially. We probably do have an extra key, just in case she needed me again to clean, or whatever. I know I lost one once, but we had another one made. Lee must still have his.”

“I think I threw it away when we left. After all, you gave her your set of keys. As for someone else—don’t think so,” Lee said.

Gabe sensed he wasn’t going to get any further than that with them. And he wasn’t sure he believed them. They were edging back toward the market, so he strolled along. He wondered if one of them had been asked to give a key to Monson. If so, they’d protect him at any price—maybe even before worrying about Tess’s safety.

“I see Brice Monson’s here himself today,” Gabe said, still trying to sound conversational. “I never figured someone who chose the name Bright Star would be an early-morning person, unless he’s the Hollywood kind of star instead of the night one.”

Grace giggled until Lee glared at her. “He’s someone who is available at any time if we have questions or need guidance. He prays and watches over us day or night,” Lee said.

“But he takes his night walks alone when he prays for us all,” Grace put in, and this time Lee nodded.

“Walks down by the creek?” Gabe asked, his mind spinning with possibilities of Monson taking walks at night. The Lockwood house was only about four miles down the road, fewer with cut-throughs across the fields.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lee admitted. “No one goes but him, under the stars, communing with the Great Star whose name he bears. We’ve got to get back now, Sheriff. Good to see you. Come on over to our tables and buy something.”

They scurried off. Gabe leaned against a tree, thinking that if Dane didn’t pan out, weirdo Brice “Bright Star” Monson deserved to be in a dead heat with Reese Owens for the next suspect. Tess said she’d heard a young girl scream at the compound, but where could Monson be stashing kidnap victims? Where could anyone be kept hidden in this tight-knit area, even if there were lots of hills and hollers and abandoned buildings? He’d been checking such places over the years, around and around, until he was dizzy with it all. He couldn’t even find that damn floating meth lab.

Like a kid who’d been punished for something he didn’t do, he kicked the tree, then walked back into the crowd.

* * *

As Tess and Vic walked down the busy street toward the pub, she noticed a table she hadn’t seen before, maybe because she’d skirted around the mayor. Neither he nor his bench was there now, so had he spirited it and himself away? More likely, he’d hired a couple of guys to move it for him so he could hold court somewhere else in the market. Or maybe the buyers there were so thick she just hadn’t seen it. The table she was surprised she hadn’t noticed had piles of Halloween costumes, with others hanging from racks. The table also had decorations for sale under a sign that read Creekside Gifts.