Cupid's Treasure - Mystery of the Golden Arrow (2 page)

“Whatever are you doing up there, dear?”

“Ah—the window looked like it was unlatched.” She tested it and her acting skills at the same time. “There, all safe and sound,” she said as she started down.

“Be careful, dear.” Mavis poised herself below as if she might catch her if she fell.

I would more likely flatten her,
Amber thought as she made her way cautiously down, so that wouldn’t happen. When she reached the bottom, Mavis had already turned and was inspecting the books scattered across the floor.

“Whatever happened?” Mavis asked.

“I don’t know. It just fell. I think the latch broke.”

“Well, that does it!” Mavis said. “As a member of the board on the historical committee, I will see to it that this is fixed immediately! It’s a good thing I called my son and asked him to stop by and have a look.”

Amber stooped to pick up a few books and set them in a stack as the woman continued to chatter.

“Someone could have been hurt!” Mavis said as she, too, picked up a book. “I’m glad I came back when I did. Besides, I wanted to invite you to dinner, dear.”

“Thank you,” Amber said.

“Since you are new in town, the least I can do is
introduce you around.”

“Ah—” Amber
started, feeling trapped by the industrious little busy body. It was the absolute last thing she needed. She quite preferred to remain anonymous. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m rather shy . . . really.”

“That can all be sorted out with some good friends,” Mavis said stubbornly.
“How about tomorrow?”

“I—” Amber began.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Mavis said right over her response. “And now I really must get back to my doggie, or I would help with these.” She set the book she’d picked up on the stack that Amber had created. “Shall we say seven o’clock, right after the library closes?”

It was obvious she had lost the battle of the dinner invitation. “Yes, thank you,” Amber said, adjusting her glasses as Mavis watched her.

“Very good,” Mavis said. “I’ll also speak to the branch manager about the matter of the maintenance man. If they do have one, he has been appallingly lax in his duties. You just leave it to me.”

With that, the little bluebird plucked her phone from her purse and punched a button. “See you tomorrow, dear,” she said before she left the library for the second time that night.

“It’s worse than I feared,” Amber heard her say into the phone as she stacked the rest of the books on the table. Picking up the last book from the floor, she noticed a yellowed piece of paper sticking out from under the edge of the shelf.

She slipped the page out, surprised to find that it was hand written instead of copied. It was dated at the top, 1863.
Just before the civil war
, Amber thought as she read, “In my despair I failed to notice that his intensions were not honorable.” Lightning flashed, followed by thunder that was much louder now.

She slipped another page out that was a little further down. She followed the trail of paper until she found an old leather bound book that had fallen behind the bookshelf. Most of the pages looked loose and torn.
It must have fallen behind the shelf years ago,
she thought as she flipped it over in her hand. It wasn’t a book at all. It was a diary. She opened the flap, revealing the first page. “Property of Agnes Hawthorne,” Amber read aloud. The lights flickered, followed by the soft sound of someone sobbing.

Amber glanced up and found herself wondering if the last librarian wasn’t as crazy as everyone thought. Branches scraped across the windows as the wind picked up.
It was just the wind,
she thought and decided to call it a night. From the sounds of the storm, it was getting closer. If she made a run for it, she might just miss the rain. A clash of thunder had her hurrying to the entrance. She tucked the diary into her purse and turned off the lights.

Lightning flashed, silhouetting her reflection in the glass of the door as she locked it. The tree branches created shifting patterns of light on the stone which made it appear as though they were reaching for her. She spun around, surveying the street that had looked bright and cheerful just a few hours earlier when she’d
arrived. It now looked deserted and spooky in the dark. She quickened her step as she hurried across the grass toward her car . . . or where she’d
left
her car.

“Oh, no!”
Amber cried out, staring at the space where her car had been and wondering why anyone would steal it.
This can’t be happening!
She looked up and down the street. Who in their right mind would steal her old blue Pinto? She belatedly noticed the sign on the lamp post that listed parking between the hours of eight a.m. and six p.m. Violators will be towed away.
Why do I always see those after the fact?

The wind blew in a swirl around her as the rain picked up. She glanced up to the sky as it began to sprinkle.
Great!
She didn’t even have a cell phone. Staying off the grid was how she’d managed so far to remain undetected. She thought of the phone in the office of the library and glanced back at the building only to see the interior lights flickering. She would swear she had turned them off. She remembered the soft crying she’d heard and shivered. Tomorrow morning in the daylight was soon enough to deal with that one.

The motel was a little far to walk in the rain. Recalling the yellow card she had in her pocket, she pulled it out and read the address of the hair salon in the dim street light. Maybe she could at least use the phone if they were still open. Amber looked at the street address to get her bearings. It looked like all she had to do was cross the park to get there.

The path through the middle was lit well enough she decided as she started out.
I might even ask for a pedicure while I wait for a taxi
, she thought as she walked. She hadn’t made it this far without learning how to make lemonade when life dishes out lemons. She trudged forward, skirting a mud puddle. A twig snapped behind her. She glanced over her shoulder at the street light filtering through the tree lined path.

Snap
.

This time the noise was much closer. Amber turned back around just as a small arrow hit the tree next to her. She jumped.
They have found me!
She left the path and the light behind, running for all she was worth across the grass, darting amongst the trees.

Swish
!

She heard the sound of another arrow as it grazed her hair and hit the tree in front of her. She lunged away, only to have another one fly by her shoulder.

Whoosh
!

She dove for cover and tripped, ending up sprawled across a small mud puddle. Looking behind her briefly, she scrambled to stand and ran into something hard with her head. She spun around and saw a very large man dressed in black step over her with the biggest black combat boots she’d ever seen.

She felt for her pepper spray and watched as the tread of his shoe went over her head. She pointed the can up and let loose a stream of spray, wondering if she could stop him from squashing her like a bug.

“What the hell!” he swore as he wiped his eyes. Instead of reacting to the burning spray, he stepped over her and stood facing whatever foe she had been running from.
Her glasses had slipped, making the blurred outline of his blonde hair look like a halo with the light filtering through it.

Great
!
she thought. . . .
I’ve just pepper sprayed my guardian angel.
She wanted to warn him, but was stunned speechless when an arrow bounced off his thigh. Was this guy wearing steel pants? She was dazed, true, and her vision fuzzy, but she would swear that she saw the next arrow bounce off his bare arm.

Clearly annoyed by the attack, the man in front of her caught the next missile with his bare hand and sent it back like a dart. She heard a grunt from the far end of the park. . . .
Okay, maybe he was an avenging angel.

He looked back at her and knelt down. “Are you alright?”

She blinked back, unwilling to believe her eyes as his face came into view. She grabbed her glasses that had slipped down her face and rested on her chin. She had an unusual feeling of
déjà vu
, but surely she’d have remembered if she’d seen
him
before!

He waved his hand in front of her face and came closer. “Do you speak English?”

She adjusted her lenses. The effect of him was worse when she could actually see him clearly. He was too near, too real, and too stunningly beautiful. She swallowed.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small phone. “I need back up at the park next to the library.”

“
Non!
You are serious?” A voice flavored with a French accent came back over the speaker a few seconds later.

“Augh,” he sighed. “Yeah, Grandpa, we have a shooter.”

“How is it they find you?” the voice said back. “Do they just jump out of the bushes at you?”

“As a matter of fact,” her guardian angel replied. “We may also need an ambulance. We have a young female down.”

“Assistance is on its way,” the voice over the speaker said.

Her rescuer slipped his phone into the pocket on his thigh and turned back to her. “Are you hurt?”

She stared dumbly at him while every inch of her responded to his masculine presence. That alone was enough to give her pause. She stared into his blue eyes that were filled with nothing more than concern as he held out his hand to her.

“Ow!” he said a second later as another arrow hit him, this time piercing his shoulder. He stared at it in shocked surprise before pulling it out.

“Oh no,” she groaned as sirens sounded. “Not again.”

He looked back at her, trying to comprehend her words as his eyes flared. She watched as his pupils dilated a little when he gazed at her mud streaked face and frizzy hair. He shook his head, narrowed his eyes quizzically, and turned away from her.

“That does it!” he said when another barbed arrow hit him. He stood and ran toward the other side of the park.

Amber watched him disappear into the night. She sighed as she stood with a heavy heart and a soggy sweater. Now it was her turn to disappear.

Just put one foot in front of the othe
r
, Amber thought as she started off toward the other end of the path. She looked at the yellow card that was still in her hand. “Maybe it is time for blue hair,” she said to herself. “They’ll never suspect that one, and I can disappear again . . . right beneath their noses.”

“Hold on there,” her rescuer called out, running to catch up with her.
“Where are you going?”

Amber turned and saw him running towards her and didn’t know if she wanted to run into his arms or run the other way as she watched him approach. From his expression, he didn’t know either. “I just want to go home,” she replied when he neared, tucking the card in her pocket. She certainly didn’t need to give anyone the heads up on her plans to disappear again.

“Home?” His voice sounded concerned.

“Is this her?” An officer walked up behind him. “Are you okay, Miss?”

Amber was surprised she hadn’t noticed the other man behind him. “I’m fine.” She nodded. “Just a little shook up.”

Her savior studied her for a moment like she was a puzzle he was unraveling. “Please,” she said, wiping a splash of mud from her cheek, which only succeeded in leaving a larger smear. “I just want to go home.” She looked down at her mud soaked clothing.

“The ambulance is on its way,” the officer said.

“That’s good,” her savior said. “I think she may be in shock.”

“No, I’m fine. . . . I just want to go home,” Amber said.

“Where is home?” the officer asked, flipping out his notebook.

“Currently, it is the Golden Key Motel down the road,” she said. She could tell by the way he looked at her that he was assuming from her state of dishevelment that she was an indigent of some sort. She straightened her shoulders. “I am the new librarian,” she stated defensively. “And so far my day hasn’t gone too well. The power went out, my car was towed, and to top it off, I was attacked.”

The officer looked up at her.
“A blue pinto?”

She nodded.

“Did you know your plates are expired?” the officer asked.

“Can we not help this young lady out here, Tom?” her herculean sized rescuer asked the officer. “I’ll call Bob’s Towing and have your Pinto delivered back here pronto,” he said, looking at her.

“That is all fine and good, but it still doesn’t explain why I have a man in diapers over there with a lethal weapon,” Tom said as he wrote.

“You caught the man?” Amber asked, a little surprised by the information.

“Yeah, some nutcase,” Tom said. “He was already laid out cold when I arrived.” The policeman cast a suspicious glance at her rescuer who rubbed his neck. “You wouldn’t know how that happened would you?”