Pane and Suffering by Cheryl Hollon Page B

I knew about. I expect to find something there, as well.”
    Edward put his cup down on the little table. “This puts everything in a new light. You need to call the police and tell them that you found this.”
    â€œI called right after I found it. Dad was a bit paranoid. I think it was mostly because of the work that he did for the government years ago. But it’s only a note—not really much of anything.”
    Edward handed Savannah a scone. “You really do need to eat. I mean it. You’re not thinking straight. He meant for you to protect yourself.”
    Savannah munched on the scone and looked into those green eyes again. “I know you’re right. There was always an edge to him after Mom died. I mean I still carry a Swiss Army knife on me because he said you never knew when you might need it.”
    â€œWhat did the police say? What are they doing?”
    â€œThe officer who was here when Hugh was found took down the details. But I have so little information. I don’t think they’re taking it seriously. My suspicions sound childish, even to me.”
    â€œOkay. But what if this is a real threat? How do you feel about Hugh? Is it possible he could have been saved if you’d found the message sooner?”
    â€œGood point.” She looked at Edward. “It was humiliating. The officer treated me like a crazy child.”
    â€œYou had to call. It was the right thing to do.”
    â€œOkay. Again, you’re right.” She picked up another scone. “Look, I know I’m starving, but these things are ridiculously good.”
    â€œThanks. I enjoy bringing them. They’re my favorite comfort food.”
    He looked a bit uncomfortable as the moment of silence between them stretched into a minute. Clearing his throat, he finally said, “We need to think about how to protect you. Your dad gave you a pointed warning. We should take it seriously.” He let the words hang in the air. “I’ve got to get back to the pub and see what needs doing before the dinner crowd arrives. Let’s get our heads together tomorrow and figure out what we can do. Cheers.” He waved and scooted quickly out the door.
    After Edward left, Savannah made herself sort through the papers and put them into two stacks. One short stack of drawings for the demolition estimate and another stack of last year’s tax return and this year’s financial statements from her dad’s accounting program. The remaining papers were filed into the four-drawer oak filing cabinet right beside the desk.
    She slowly read through the statements. According to the reports, the shop was doing quite well even before the profits from the church windows were projected. The reports indicated that her dad made most of his money on commissions but also a surprising amount on the materials that were purchased for the classes. This could actually grow into quite a nice living if she decided to stay.
    Stay? Where did that come from?
    She grabbed a sheet of notebook paper and began to calculate the total net worth of the business. She labeled the columns and then found herself staring at them through sand-filled eyes as if the figures had just turned into dancing Sanskrit. Her watch said 4:30.
    My brain isn’t working. It’s still early, but I’m dead tired.
    She tidied the stack of papers in preparation for completing the evaluation tomorrow, got up, and went into the custom workshop. “Jacob, it’s time to clean up and put everything away and close up the shop. We’ve had a busy day.”
    And I have a lot of thinking to do.

Chapter 5
    Monday Evening
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    S avannah pulled her dad’s van into the attached carport of the family Craftsman house in the Euclid/St. Paul neighborhood. It was about ten blocks east of the Grand Central District and close to the downtown section of St. Petersburg. Most of the surrounding houses were built in the twenties and thirties,