Carol J. Post - Shattered Haven

Blake called out a greeting, and the kid responded with a wave. But instead of boarding the old Bayliner Cuddy, he approached, moving with that cocky swagger so prominent among teens and twentysomethings nowadays. He leaned against the nearest piling. “You staying in Cedar Key awhile?”

“For the time being. Why?”

“I do odd jobs. You need any work done, let me know. Name’s Terrance.” He took a swig of the Budweiser in his hand. Apparently he was at least twenty-one. Or someone was selling alcohol to minors.

“Will do. I heard you replaced a window for Allison yesterday.”

“Yeah.” He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “Her house got broken into. I hope they catch the guy.”

Terrance turned to go, but Blake stopped him. “Speaking of Allison, did you see her leave this morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she happen to say what time she was coming back?”

“Four.”

A little early for Brinks’s walk, but Brinks wouldn’t mind.

Terrance lifted his beer in farewell then headed to his boat. With a cabin just big enough for a berth and toilet, the Bayliner Cuddy was built for the occasional overnight, not living aboard. But Terrance didn’t seem to mind. He was independent and supporting himself. That was probably all that mattered.

Blake closed the paper and capped the Sharpie. He could spend only so many hours fishing, reading and exploring. So that was why he had circled two job postings in the classified section. A third he had looked at briefly, then decided to pass. Cedar Key Auto was looking for a mechanic. He was okay, but not good. Actually, when it came to gainful employment, he was okay at a lot of things—jack-of-all-trades, master of none. Except police work. That he was good at.

Monday he would make the two phone calls. One was The Market at Cedar Key, twenty hours a week cleaning and stocking. The other was grounds work for a landscaping outfit, also part-time. He wouldn’t apply for anything that required extensive training. It wouldn’t be fair to his potential employer.

As expected, Allison’s boat came into view at twenty till four. By four o’clock, she had docked and was telling her charter customers goodbye. Blake stood to take the newspaper and empty glass below and don some tennis shoes. By the time he had traded Brinks’s restraint for a real leash and stepped onto the dock, Allison had finished hosing down her boat.

“So how was the charter?”

“Perfect. This is my favorite time of year.”

“Mine, too.” His gaze swept the length of the hull and came to rest on some simple turquoise script. “ Tranquility . Very fitting name. She’s beautiful.”

She looked up from her chores and flashed him a smile. “Thanks.”

He watched her while she finished her end-of-the-day routine. “I’m going to be heading out to take Brinks for a walk, but I can take a different route. I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you.”

“That’s all right. The company’s kind of nice.” She stepped off the boat and grinned up at him. “I’ll let you know when I get tired of you.”

He started down the dock next to her. “Do you have any charters tomorrow?”

“No. I try to take Sundays off. At least Sunday mornings.”

“It’s nice to sleep in every so often.”

A gust of wind swept through and whipped her hair into her face. Several strands had come loose from the braid during her time on the water. She reached up to tuck them behind her ear.

“Actually, that’s not it. I’m an early riser. Can’t sleep past sunup regardless. But Sunday morning I’m usually in church, singing in the worship ensemble.”

“You sail and you sing. Any other talents I don’t know about?”

“No, that’s pretty much it. My parents tried piano lessons, too, but I didn’t take to them like the voice lessons.”

He nodded. Somehow the singing didn’t surprise him. Her voice held an almost mesmerizing quality, a smooth, low timbre that slid over him like fine silk.

“If you’d like to go, I’ll be happy to pick you up.”

Church? He hadn’t been since age sixteen, when he decided he didn’t need some stuffy old man in a robe telling him how to live his life. “I’ll have to pass. I’ve got some things to do.” He wasn’t sure what, but he’d think of something.

When they reached her house, he walked with her to the door, where she stopped to give Brinks some brisk scratches on the neck and throat. Her eyes sparkled, the uneasiness he had seen yesterday gone. Finally, she straightened to give him a parting smile.

“I’ll see you around.”

As soon as she had unlocked and opened the door, he turned to head back to the street. But her startled gasp stopped him midstride. He spun toward her, and his stomach went into a free fall. Her face was three shades lighter than it had been moments ago, and her eyes were wide with fear.

He took two quick steps forward. “What is it?”

“Someone’s been in the house.”

“Are you sure?” He stepped past her into the foyer and immediately answered his own question. The top had been removed from the first stair post and was lying on the foyer floor. To the right, an open double doorway framed scattered brocade pillows. A roll of what looked like house plans had been slung against a sofa leg. Dog-eared pages curled into haphazard rolls on the polished oak floor, partially hidden by one of the sofa seat cushions.

He turned toward Allison, a sense of protectiveness surging up inside him. He couldn’t help it. It was his police training. Once a cop, always a cop. Being unable to do the job didn’t take away those instincts.

Allison stood in the doorway, phone in hand, calling nine-one-one. He stepped back outside, and within minutes, a Cedar Key police cruiser stopped at the curb, siren silenced. The lights remained flashing. It was Hunter, the same cop who had cuffed him early yesterday morning. The officer’s eyes shifted from him to Allison and then back to him. The question in his gaze was probably about more than just the call.

Hunter stepped onto the porch and addressed Allison. “Another break-in?”

“Seems that way. Maybe it’s time I install an alarm.”

Blake looked at her sharply. “You don’t have one? I thought you said you did.” In fact, he knew that was what she had said. Early yesterday morning, when Hunter had him pinned against the cruiser.

A grin climbed up her cheeks. “I didn’t say I had an alarm. I just said I wouldn’t forget to set it.”

He matched her smile with one of his own. “You just wanted me to think you had one.”

“I figured it wouldn’t hurt. Just in case.” She motioned Hunter inside. “I don’t know how bad it is. I didn’t go past the front doorway.”

Blake started to follow, then hesitated. It wasn’t his case. He wasn’t even a cop anymore. He was a civilian getting ready to walk into a woman’s house uninvited. He cast a glance at Allison. “Is it all right if I go in?”

“Sure. Another set of trained eyes can’t hurt.”

Hunter stopped in the doorway of the living room. “Since all the cushions are off the furniture, I’m guessing he was looking for something.” He made a slow circle through the room, then pointed at the floor. “Are those house plans?”

“Yeah.” Allison led him back into the foyer. “The night after the first break-in, I noticed that this finial was crooked. Then I discovered the post is hollow. The house plans were inside.” She started to rest her hand on top of the newel post, then drew back. She wouldn’t touch anything until after they finished investigating.

Hunter nodded. “They sometimes did that with these old Victorians, hid the house plans in a secret compartment in the newel post.”