Page 238 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

Nate scrubbed at his jaw. “It’s not getting me anywhere. Silas made nice stuff but he was a terrible businessman.”

She sent him a sympathetic smile, hearing the frustration edging his voice. “I’m sorry.” She put the paper back. “What can I do?”

“At this point, nothing.” He surprised her as he used his powerful triceps to scoot them back toward the couch then rested his head on the plush edge of the arm. “Trace Miller and his boys lawyered up this afternoon and I can’t find anything that does me a damn bit of good in that shoebox. Thirty drawings of bracelets, rings, and earrings but no locket.”

“I’m trying to remember stuff about that night, but…”

He shook his head. “I never should have brought that up. I’m sorry I did.” He kissed her. “We’re in a bit of a holding pattern.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing right now.”

He frowned.

“You’re exhausted.” She touched the dark circles under his eyes then moved her fingers to his temples, rubbing in slow, firm circles. “You need some rest.”

He groaned and closed his eyes. “God, that feels good.”

“Good.” She continued her massage along the sides of his head and back to his ears. “You have your hands full. We both want to know what happened to my mother, but you and your deputies need to figure out who’s causing all of the problems around here first. I understand that, Nate.”

He groaned again. “I think there’s a connection between our troublemaker and your case.” He opened his eyes, staring into hers. “I think I’m close to figuring this out and someone’s nervous.”

She paused her movements, absorbing what he was saying, then kept going.

“This has nothing to do with Jack Lancaster. I’m going to do my due diligence and talk to Jack’s parents—get a bead on his whereabouts over the last few days. His friends too. But this week’s circus act hasn’t been the workings of four sixteen-year-old kids. This is a one-man operation and whoever it is tipped their hand when they slashed Buzz’s tires, then bashed our living room window to hell.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Jack’s a hothead and careless behind the wheel. He and his pals have done some community service for the toilet paper and eggs, but all of this has been too sophisticated. Whoever’s doing this is quiet, neat, and strong enough to push a car a solid foot over a tricky embankment without it rolling back on them.”

“If there were four kids—”

He shook his head. “What did you hear tonight at our house—right before everything went to shit?”

She swallowed as she thought back to her terrifying moments in the kitchen. “Nothing. Not until the thump against the wall and the tapping on the window.”

“No footsteps on the porch or whispers?”

She shook her head, shuddering as she remembered the horrid silence.

“Four kids romping around together in the dark, not making a single sound. I’m not buying it, especially after their Halloween spectacular last year when I found egg cartons and toilet paper rolls in the outdoor trash can and four dumbass drunks puking behind the Lancasters’ shed. They aren’t exactly masterminds.”

When Nate put it that way…

“The window in our living room was hit once—twice at the most. One or two solid smacks of impact. It takes power to shatter a window of that size. More than any one of those kids has.”

She let her hands fall to her lap as her pulse kicked up with the wash of fear. “You think he was coming to hurt us—me?”

“No. Or I don’t think so. I know you heard a couple of creaks upstairs, but he never got inside. He knew you were home—that you would call me. He had to have heard the sirens coming all the way from town.”

“So you think he came to break the window?”

He nodded. “Smashed it and ran.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“To keep the chaos going. Scaring the shit out of both of us was a bonus. But think of all of the stuff I have to deal with now—police reports, insurance, home repairs, fucking Thomas and his town council posse who assume I don’t know how to do my job.”

Her frown returned. “You’re doing the best you can—everything you can.”