gal?”
“It looks as if life has connived to keep me chained to this stupid town,” she complained. “Nothing’s changed here, that’s for sure.”
“Is there a lot you have to do? Do you want me to come out there and give you a hand?”
“Claire, you don’t know how wonderful it would be to have you here, but no, thanks just the same. You have obligations, and the stuff isn’t that complicated, just tedious. Everything gets done on Stoneham time.”
“How’s Mister Silver Heart?”
Claire was the only one Cassie had ever confided in about Griff. She’d fled to her that terrible summer and cried off and on for days, overwhelmed by the awful sense of betrayal. After that, unable to return to Stoneham and see Griff and Diane in the bloom of wedded bliss, unable to cope with her parents’ blindness where Diane was concerned, she’d spent every school break and summer at Claire’s. The warmth Claire’s family surrounded Cassie with almost— almost— killed the pain that still lived in a tiny corner of her heart.
“I’m sure he’s just fine,” she answered. “I’m avoiding him at all costs.” Telling Claire she’d already run into him would open a dialogue she wasn’t ready to have.
“You know, I guess it’s none of my business, but this might be a good time to take care of your unfinished business with him, too.”
“Griffin and I are more than finished,” Cassie said, her tone heavy. “It’s over and done. Period. You know that.”
“Sure, sure,” Claire soothed. “That’s why you wear that locket with the tiny heart inside, right?”
“Claire….”
“All right, all right. But call me if you need to gab. I’ll be in and out all weekend, but I’ll keep my cell phone with me. Take care, sweetie.”
After ending the call, Cassie realized she’d had nothing since coffee that morning, which might account for part of the headache. She was too tired from dealing with the hassle of the day for anything elaborate, and she felt the grime of the house covering her. Okay, a shower, cool clothes, and a sandwich and milk. Just what she needed.
Passing Diane’s room on the way to her own, she again stopped in the doorway. She could almost smell the scent of her sister’s rich perfume, hear her throaty voice as she hummed to herself. Had someone flown to close to her flame, burned themselves, and retaliated? She turned away to escape the sense of choking when something nudged at her consciousness.
Forcing herself to wipe everything out of her mind, she put on her reporter’s brain. What had she noticed that didn’t register? What was wrong or out of place? Her eyes lit first on the dresser. That was it. Every drawer was open, just a fraction, as if it had been closed in haste. Her mother would never do that. She was known for her prim neatness.
Cassie opened each drawer, looking through the contents. Again, everything was almost neat, but if you knew the history, you could see things had been marginally displaced.
Next, she turned to the closet. The folding doors were open a fraction, again as if someone had been in a hurry. The inside of the closet was messier than the drawers. It was apparent someone had been looking for something and might have been running out of time, not able to be so careful here.
The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and a shiver ran down her spine. Tomorrow, she would do a more thorough search of this room. It was obvious, though, someone had been in here searching. When? And for what? Most important of all, who had a key and could come here whenever they pleased?
The thought was more than unsettling. Tomorrow, first thing, she would call a locksmith and have all the locks changed. She knew it was the weekend, but she’d pay double-time for this. She’d never sleep, knowing there was a stranger out there who could enter the house at will.
She stood under the shower a long time, letting the water wash away the day and its troubles. Then,
“It looks as if life has connived to keep me chained to this stupid town,” she complained. “Nothing’s changed here, that’s for sure.”
“Is there a lot you have to do? Do you want me to come out there and give you a hand?”
“Claire, you don’t know how wonderful it would be to have you here, but no, thanks just the same. You have obligations, and the stuff isn’t that complicated, just tedious. Everything gets done on Stoneham time.”
“How’s Mister Silver Heart?”
Claire was the only one Cassie had ever confided in about Griff. She’d fled to her that terrible summer and cried off and on for days, overwhelmed by the awful sense of betrayal. After that, unable to return to Stoneham and see Griff and Diane in the bloom of wedded bliss, unable to cope with her parents’ blindness where Diane was concerned, she’d spent every school break and summer at Claire’s. The warmth Claire’s family surrounded Cassie with almost— almost— killed the pain that still lived in a tiny corner of her heart.
“I’m sure he’s just fine,” she answered. “I’m avoiding him at all costs.” Telling Claire she’d already run into him would open a dialogue she wasn’t ready to have.
“You know, I guess it’s none of my business, but this might be a good time to take care of your unfinished business with him, too.”
“Griffin and I are more than finished,” Cassie said, her tone heavy. “It’s over and done. Period. You know that.”
“Sure, sure,” Claire soothed. “That’s why you wear that locket with the tiny heart inside, right?”
“Claire….”
“All right, all right. But call me if you need to gab. I’ll be in and out all weekend, but I’ll keep my cell phone with me. Take care, sweetie.”
After ending the call, Cassie realized she’d had nothing since coffee that morning, which might account for part of the headache. She was too tired from dealing with the hassle of the day for anything elaborate, and she felt the grime of the house covering her. Okay, a shower, cool clothes, and a sandwich and milk. Just what she needed.
Passing Diane’s room on the way to her own, she again stopped in the doorway. She could almost smell the scent of her sister’s rich perfume, hear her throaty voice as she hummed to herself. Had someone flown to close to her flame, burned themselves, and retaliated? She turned away to escape the sense of choking when something nudged at her consciousness.
Forcing herself to wipe everything out of her mind, she put on her reporter’s brain. What had she noticed that didn’t register? What was wrong or out of place? Her eyes lit first on the dresser. That was it. Every drawer was open, just a fraction, as if it had been closed in haste. Her mother would never do that. She was known for her prim neatness.
Cassie opened each drawer, looking through the contents. Again, everything was almost neat, but if you knew the history, you could see things had been marginally displaced.
Next, she turned to the closet. The folding doors were open a fraction, again as if someone had been in a hurry. The inside of the closet was messier than the drawers. It was apparent someone had been looking for something and might have been running out of time, not able to be so careful here.
The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and a shiver ran down her spine. Tomorrow, she would do a more thorough search of this room. It was obvious, though, someone had been in here searching. When? And for what? Most important of all, who had a key and could come here whenever they pleased?
The thought was more than unsettling. Tomorrow, first thing, she would call a locksmith and have all the locks changed. She knew it was the weekend, but she’d pay double-time for this. She’d never sleep, knowing there was a stranger out there who could enter the house at will.
She stood under the shower a long time, letting the water wash away the day and its troubles. Then,
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