Sinister Sprinkles Part 8

"Are you kidding me? You're not a bother, you're a buffer. Momma and I will drive each other crazy if just the two of us are s...o...b..und in that house."

Grace bit her lip, then said, "Well, if you're sure. Normally I like living alone, but I'm not too fond of storms of any kind."

"At least there's no lightning," I said. As I spoke, there was a diffused flash in the sky, and a few seconds later, thunder rumbled in the distance.

I looked at Grace. Without cracking a smile, she said, "I'm just glad you didn't say there wasn't a hurricane."

"We'd better get home before this gets any worse," I said. "The last time I saw lightning in a snowstorm, we got a foot overnight."

Grace s.h.i.+vered at the prospect. "Can we swing by my house first? I want to pick up a few things."

"Sure, but we have to do it on foot. My Jeep's still at the house."

"Then we'd better get going," she said. "It looks like this isn't going to let up anytime soon."

At least Grace's house was on the way to my place. The sidewalks were all a mess, but there was barely any traffic on the road, so we decided to walk there. It made the going a lot easier, especially since the new snow added a little traction. The daytime temperature hadn't gotten above freezing, but at least our plows had been followed by salt trucks, so for now, it wasn't bad.

"Should we get some groceries, too?" Grace asked. "I don't have enough in my pantry to feed a mouse."

"If I know my mother-and if not me, who-she'll have enough for a monthlong siege. That woman believes in being prepared for just about anything."

Grace nodded. "Not a bad trait at the moment, wouldn't you say?"

"Hey, I'm a big fan of the lady myself." I had to admit that sometimes it took Grace's presence for me to remember some of my mother's good qualities. Both of Grace's folks had pa.s.sed away years ago, and Momma had kind of adopted her.

We climbed the steps up to Grace's porch, and before I could approach the door, she put her hand out and stopped me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Look," she said. "There are footprints on my porch, and I haven't been home since yesterday."

"Maybe it was the mailman."

"My box is on the street," she said.

"A neighbor worried about you?" I asked.

"I doubt it. Suzanne, something's wrong here."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," I said as I walked to the door.

Grace nodded. "You're right; I guess I'm a little jumpy."

"Or not," I said as I noticed that door was slightly ajar. "You locked up yesterday, didn't you?"

"I always do, you know how paranoid I am about that," she said. "Why? What's going on?"

I pointed to the door and said softly, "Let's go back to the diner and call the police."

She backed up without saying a word, but from the expression on her face, I knew she wanted to scream.

We hurried back a dozen paces, then she said, "I've got my cell phone. I'm going to call from here."

"I just realized that I have mine, too," I said. "But don't you think this is a call we should make with other people around? We're kind of vulnerable out here in the street all by ourselves."

"I don't like this, Suzanne," she said, her voice starting to crack.

"It's going to be okay," I said.

She reached into a deep pocket for her phone when I said, "Hang on a second."

Driving up the road was one of our April Springs police cruisers, and I'd never been so happy to see one in my life. I threw out my arms and started waving frantically, so the officer would make no mistake that I was trying to flag him down and not offering an enthusiastic greeting instead.

It was Officer Grant, my one real friend on the force.

He pulled up to the lip of snow bracketing the road and rolled down his window. "What's wrong, Suzanne?"

"It looks like somebody broke into Grace's house," I said as I pointed toward it.

He nodded. "Stay right there. I'll check it out."

Officer Grant somehow managed to pull the cruiser up over the piled snow, and I saw that the car had chains on its tires. As he got out, I started toward him, but he held one hand up for me to stay where I was as he unbuckled his gun and pulled it out.

Okay, I know when to take a hint, even if a direct order is lost on me at times.

Grace stood beside me in the cold, falling snow, but neither one of us said a word. I didn't know about her, but I was bracing myself for the sound of a gunshot. After what felt like a lifetime later, the front door opened again, and Officer Grant came out, his revolver back in its holster.

He waved for us to approach, and we hurried toward him.

"Whoever was in there is long gone," he said.

"Are you sure?" Grace asked.

He nodded. "Oh yes. I checked under every bed, and in all the closets. Trust me, he's gone."

"Could you tell if anything is missing?" I asked.

"No, the television's still there, and I found some jewelry in the bedroom that looked valuable, along with four one-hundred-dollar-bills in the bottom of the case. You really should find a better hiding place for your money."

"I keep meaning to, but I never seem to get around to it," she said.

Officer Grant frowned as he added, "There are a few dirty dishes in the sink, and there's a pillow and blanket on the couch. I'm guessing that whoever broke in just wanted a place to ride out the storm last night."

"What if he comes back?" she asked, the edge of hysteria clear in her voice.

"When he sees that your lights on, he'll move on to someplace else. In the meantime, I'll keep an eye on your house."

"Thanks, but I won't be staying here tonight," Grace said.

I put my arm around her. "That's not even an option. You're coming home with me, remember?"

She nodded, then Grace asked Officer Grant, "Would you mind staying here a few minutes, just long enough for me to pack a few things?"

He nodded. "Sure thing. Just don't take too long."

"No problem there."

She started inside, then said, "I know I'm being silly, but would you two mind coming into the living room while I pack?"

"We'll be glad to," I said, trying to be as rea.s.suring as I could. "Now, let's get you packed so we can head back to my place."

Officer Grant and I did as Grace asked, and as we stood in the living room, I realized both of us were intently listening to her move around in the other rooms.

After a minute, I pointed to the front door and asked, "Is there something we should do about that in the meantime?" It was pretty clear from the inside that someone had forced the door open. The jamb was split, and a few shards of wood were on the floor.

He nodded. "We'll barricade it for now, and use the side door when we leave. Give me a hand with this couch, okay?"

I nodded, and we shoved it into place, blocking the door as firmly as we could. Grace had a side entrance, and though we were going to have to muck through some snow to get out that way, it was better than leaving the front door wide open for another intruder to just walk on in.

"Do you really think that will discourage him?" I asked.

"I'm guessing he won't come back. If he was interested in robbing her, he would have done it already."

"And what if he was planning to sleep here again tonight?" I asked softly enough so that Grace couldn't hear.

"Then he would have done a better job disguising his break-in. You didn't exactly have to examine the lock to know someone had been there, did you?"

"No, it was pretty clear the front door was kicked in."

"That's my point. This guy isn't a finesse criminal. He took advantage of your friend's absence, and he's long gone by now."

"I hope you're right."

He nodded, and then the radio on his belt beeped, and he took it out in the kitchen so he could answer in private.

Grace came back in with an overnight bag and looked wildly around the room. "Where did he go? He left us?"

"Take it easy. He's in the kitchen," I said.

"I know I'm jumpy, but I can't help it. I admit it. I'm rattled." She looked at the couch in front of the front door, then added, "You're kidding, right?"

"It was the best we could do on the spur of the moment."

She shook her head. "Thanks for trying, but we're going to have to do better than that."

She reached for her phone book, and I asked, "Who are you calling?"

"Tim Leander. He does all of my handyman ch.o.r.es."

I put a hand on the phone. "Don't you think he's probably busy right now handling emergencies?" I knew Tim was a mainstay in April Springs, keeping the town repaired and together with apparent ease. Tim was a master at fixing just about anything, and he was on speed-dial at our house, along with just about everyone else in April Springs.

"You don't call this an emergency?" she said shrilly as she dialed his number.

"Tim? This is Grace. I need you." She listened to his response, no doubt learning that he wasn't about to drop everything.

Grace smiled at me a few seconds later as she said, "That's great. I'll see you in five minutes. And Tim? Thanks."

After she hung up, I said, "Okay, now I'm impressed. I don't know what you've got on him, and I'm not sure I want to."

She shook her head. "Suzanne, he owes me a favor, and I decided there wasn't going to be a better time to call it in than now."

"What kind of favor did you do for him? Or do I even want to know?"

Grace laughed for the first time since we'd seen her busted front door, something I took as a good sign. "I should let you supply the reason yourself with that overactive imagination of yours, but I'm not going to. Tim needed some advice once, and I supplied it. It's as simple as that."

I shook my head. "I don't think so. Details, girl; come on, I'm listening."

Grace wouldn't tell me, though. "I can't, Suzanne. I promised, so don't ask."

"Okay, I can respect that," I said. "But I've got to admit, you've got my curiosity roused."

"Some mysteries in life aren't meant to be explained," she said as Officer Grant rejoined us.

"Ladies, we need to go. I've got an emergency call on Oakhurst."

"You go on," Grace said. "We'll be fine now."

"I'm not leaving you alone here," he said in a voice that left no room for debate.

"We won't be. Tim Leander is on his way," Grace said. "Will you help me move the couch back before you go?"

He nodded and added a grin to the mix. "Absolutely, if it keeps me from trudging through the snow."

We pushed the couch back to its original position, and Tim knocked on the door as Officer Grant reached for the handle.

"Come on in," he said. "I was just on my way out."

Tim, a heavyset older man with a head full of gray hair, nodded as he said, "I imagine you're a little busy today."

"Right back at you," Officer Grant said.

"A little snow is always good for business," Tim agreed, and then Officer Grant was gone.

Tim said, "Good afternoon, ladies. Let me see what we've got going on here." He studied the splintered door frame like it was a Pica.s.so, then said, "I can make it hold for now, and then replace the jamb after things settle down. Does that suit you?"

Grace asked, "Will it keep whoever broke in out?"