Page 229 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

Chapter Forty

Nate pulled up in the driveway, keeping his foot on the brake and his hands on the wheel as he exhaled a long breath. He and his deputies were on a roll—night number three of responding to community members calling into the emergency line with reports of noises outside their homes. In the wee hours Tuesday morning, Nate and Mac rushed over to Bess’s when she thought someone was messing with her upstairs windows. When they arrived at the scene, Mac found one of the glass panels cracked and several rocks on the ground, but whoever had been up to no good had been long gone by the time they got there. Yesterday Jenna Fitzgerald called in just after one a.m. when her motion sensors activated and she heard someone lurking around outside her two-year-old’s bedroom. When Nate and Denny made it out to their place, they’d found the shed door open and some of Randy Fitzgerald’s tools missing. Then, two hours ago, the Johnstons called in with more of the same, but instead of having broken windows and stolen tools, Fuck You had been spray painted on their garage door in a deep, bold blue.

Standard procedures had been followed. Pictures had been taken and reports filled out, waiting for Kay to file them. They were stepping up patrols, but there wasn’t much else Nate and his crew could do at this point. The bastard or bastards keeping Sandersonians on edge was careful—not leaving anything behind at the scenes—but eventually they would screw up. And Nate would be ready with his handcuffs. A few hours from now, he planned to swing by Carter Island Middle/High School and let his presence be known—and make sure everyone understood that he wasn’t fucking around with this. Terrifying elderly women and the families on the island wasn’t going to be tolerated.

After putting the Tahoe in Park, Nate killed the engine and headed for the front door, noting that the living room light was on. He let himself inside and hung up his coat, spotting Callie curled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket and sketch pad in her lap while the fire crackled in the grate. His shoulders coiled tight as he walked her way, watching her pencil moving over the paper. “Hey,” he said as he sat down next to her and leaned closer, studying a simple flower on the page—not some scene from another one of her nightmares.

She looked up, sending him a small smile. “Hey.”

“Did I wake you up when I left?”

She shook her head. “You weren’t here when I got up.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear. “How long have you been awake?”

She shrugged as she set her pencil on the pad. “Probably a half hour or so. Is everything okay?” She gestured to his holster on his belt.

“Somebody decided to decorate the Johnstons’ shed with a bright blue expletive.”

She winced. “Uh-oh.”

He sighed as he leaned his head back on the cushion and scrubbed at his face. “Yeah.”

“Who do you think’s doing this?”

He dropped his hands. “Jack Lancaster and his pals are on my radar.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Oh.”

“I’ve had some trouble with them in the past.”

“I remember.”

He smiled. “Not backseat sex. Toilet papering the gym teacher’s house and throwing some eggs at doors last year.”

She frowned. “But this seems more serious.”

He nodded. “It is. Criminal trespassing, destruction of property, theft. If Jack and his buddies are responsible, they’re looking at spending some time in juvie. Denny and I went to all four kids’ after-school jobs this afternoon—or I guess it was yesterday.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to keep up with the madness.

“What did they think of that?”

He shrugged. “Not much. Denny and I split up—each of us stopping off to talk to two of the kids. We asked them a couple of informal questions—how’s school and their grades, how are the jobs going, were they hearing anything about what’s been going on over the last couple of days. They’re not stupid. They knew what we were doing, which was exactly the point, but I want to tread lightly until I have something solid to work with. The last thing I want to be doing is pissing off and offending their parents without any proof.” The delicate balancing act of small-town law enforcement. “I figure I’ll head over to the school later—see if a conversation with the student body will get me a few leads. Someone’s bound to talk if I make myself available.”

She took his hand. “You should get some rest. You look tired.”

He was exhausted, but he shrugged again. “I consider this early training for the summer months. It’s good to remember crazy nights and sleep-deprived days.”

Her eyes were full of sympathy as she kissed his cheek, then picked up her pencil and started drawing again.

He leaned his shoulder against hers. “What are you working on?”

“It’s a suncatcher for a beginner class. An easy seven-piece design anyone can create.”

“For the new place,” he said, giving her arm a gentle bump.

She nodded. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that we’ve decided on a name.”

“Oh, yeah?”