Harlequin Heartwarming May 2016 Box Set (89 page)

“That you will always check the gate before you let Banjo out at night.”

“Of course. I'm getting forgetful,” she confessed. “But I'll do my best.”

Emily covered the woman's hand with hers and gave it a squeeze. “That's all anyone can ask.”

But as she stirred milk and sugar into her tea, her mind flitted from one thought to another. Her own mother, who was never coming home. Mrs. Potter's daughter, who seldom visited hers. Jack, who had been keeping secrets from her. It wasn't fair, none of it.

Emily slid her hand across her tummy. Right now, this little person seemed to be her one sure thing.
I will always
,
always
be here for you.

And there were a few things she needed to do for her old friend Mrs. Potter, too. No matter what Libby's intentions were, she needed to know her mother was having memory problems, possibly showing early signs of dementia or Alzheimer's, and should be checked out by a doctor. Libby didn't need to know about her mother's involvement in the case of the missing garden gnomes, though, and Emily knew exactly what she had to do to make sure no one found out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A
T
DUSK
, E
MILY
parked her car two blocks from her apartment, sauntered nonchalantly down the alley and up the back stairs and let herself into her kitchen. She groped in a drawer for a penlight, and was grateful the batteries had enough power to produce a narrow beam. She flicked it off and felt her way through the living room, pausing to turn on her laptop and toss a couple of nuts into Tadpole's cage. Finally, Emily stumbled into her bedroom.

She closed the door, made sure the drapes were tightly drawn and switched the penlight back on. It provided just enough light to help her find the things she needed, but not enough to alert anyone who might be watching for her—particularly Jack, Fred or her sisters—that she had returned to the apartment. Not to be overly paranoid, she thought, but given that she now had more than twenty missed texts and a number of voice messages, someone was likely to be outside waiting for her to return.

She quickly shed her clothes and wriggled into a pair of black jeans—only managing to zip them up after she lay on her back on the bed—then pulled on a chunky black turtleneck pullover and shoved her feet into black ankle boots. Her reflection in the dimly lit full-length mirror showed she'd achieved the exact effect she was after. On Riverton's dimly lit residential streets, she would be all but invisible.

Since no one had thought to look for her at Mrs. Potter's place, Emily had spent the afternoon there, silently hatching a plan to deal with the loot in the garden shed. She had been grateful for the reprieve from dealing with personal issues, and now it was time to put her plan into action.

She turned off the flashlight and tucked it into her back pocket. As she made her way back through the living room, she avoided the temptation to peek out the front window to see if anyone was waiting for her. Tadpole ran silently on her wheel, having apparently polished off the nuts. Emily quickly connected her laptop to the printer, hoping the light from the monitor wasn't bright enough to illuminate the window. She was quite certain she remembered which item belonged to whom, but just to be sure, she printed the most recent map she'd posted on her blog, folded the printout and stuffed it into her back pocket with the flashlight. Then she slunk out the back door and within moments was behind the steering wheel of her car.

At the Potter place, she knocked on the front door. She was greeted by her friend, already dressed in a nightgown and housecoat, and a barking dog.

“Hi, Mrs. Potter. I'm here to collect the box of things I packed up and left in the shed this afternoon.”

“That's fine, dear. You help yourself to whatever you need.” She sounded as though she had already forgotten which “things” they were talking about.

That's all for the best
, Emily assured herself.

“Good night, then. I'll make sure the gate is latched so Banjo won't take off when you let him out tonight.”

“Good idea. Good night, dear. Come for tea anytime you like.”

“I will. Thanks.”

From the backyard, Emily scooped up the box, then secured the gate and loaded everything into the hatchback of her car. Once again in the driver's seat, she pulled out the map, unfolded it on the seat beside her and shone the flashlight on it. She hadn't considered the thief might have been right in the middle of the nine-block area where things had gone missing, but it made sense now that she knew who it was.

She would start in one corner of the area and zigzag through until she had returned everything to its rightful owner. That made the most sense, and it was certainly the most efficient way to get the task done. Most importantly, poor old Mrs. Potter would save face.

Emily started with the weed-it-and-reap garden stake. She had no way of knowing which part of the yard it had disappeared from, so she simply stabbed it into the front flower bed and beat a hasty retreat to her car.

Next up was one of the garden gnomes, the one from old Mr. Jamieson's. His had been the first to go missing, and he had been irate, accusing “all those young hooligans running around town” of the theft. He had described it as having a blue shirt and a white hat, which immediately made Emily picture a Smurf rather than a gnome. Luckily, only one of the pilfered gnomes had a white hat, and he was now safely settled with his cohorts in the circular bed in the middle of Mr. Jamieson's front lawn.

This was going well, Emily congratulated herself. Easy-peasy. Piece of cake. She drove around the corner, past her next target, and parked several doors down. She was relieved to see the Browns' porch light was off as the welcome mat was theirs. She had crept halfway up their front steps when the light turned on. Emily froze, listened and heard nothing. The light must have a motion sensor. She hastily slid the mat into place and fled.

Returning to the car this time, her heart was beating a little faster, but it was an adrenaline rush. And it felt good. She was energized, like a superhero. She chuckled. How completely ridiculous. She was the least heroic person she knew. Annie was the one who saved the world, or at least everyone in her world. CJ took the world by storm. Emily used her books and journals to escape from the world. Already she was excitedly drafting her next blog post, how an anonymous tip had led to the discovery of the stolen items. In her mind, she could see a few holes in the story, but she could fix those. For now, she was happy to focus on her mission as it meant not having to acknowledge Rose's appearance in Riverton, the shocking reality of her mother's death and Jack's deception.

Emily flicked on her flashlight and studied the map. Her next stop was to return the rubber boots. She started the car and drove a block and a half. The boots had been swiped from the Redfords' backyard, but after the close call with the Browns' automatic porch light, she wasn't sure it was a good idea to venture that far. She couldn't remember whether or not the Redfords had a dog, but why take a chance?

She climbed out of the car, quickly and quietly clicking the door shut so the interior light turned off. She opened the hatchback and was lifting out the boots as a police cruiser came around the corner, illuminating her with its headlights. The cruiser pulled up behind her and cut its engine, but the headlights stayed on. Blinded by the light, she froze for a moment before her instincts kicked in and she slammed the hatchback shut.

Someone stepped out of the car and shone a flashlight beam directly into her face. “Evening, ma'am.” A male voice.

“Um, hello?”

“I'm Officer Gable with the Riverton PD. We've had a report of a possible prowler in the area. Have you seen anything or anyone out of the ordinary?”

Uh-oh. Busted.

“N-no. Nothing, officer, sir.” She knew everyone in the police department except Lonnie Gable, who was a young new recruit. Just her rotten luck.

“What's your name?”

“Emily Finnegan.”

“Interesting. Those your boots, Emily?”

“Oh, um, no.” They were huge—at least a man's size twelve—so she couldn't very well say they were.

“What else have you got back there?”

Emily was suddenly light-headed. “Nothing.”

“Open the back of your car, please.”

Her only choice was to do as he asked.

He directed the beam of his flashlight at the contents of the box. “Do these belong to you?”

“No, but I can explain.”

“You can save that till we get to the station.”

“What? No, really, I can explain everything. This is just a misunderstanding. I didn't take these things. I'm returning them.”

He shook his head in a way that suggested he had finally heard everything.

“I'm afraid you'll have to come with me, Ms. Finnegan.” He moved to the side of the cruiser, opened the back door.

“Am I under arrest?”

“Not yet,” he said, implying she might be if she didn't comply. “The chief told us we were to bring in the garden-gnome bandit if we spotted him. Or her,” he added.

This was ridiculous. However, as much as she did not want to see Jack right now, at least he would hear her out, which left her with no choice but to slide into the backseat and watch while Officer Gable transferred the box from the back of her car to the trunk of his cruiser.

And once Jack heard her out, he had some explaining of his own to do.

* * *

A
FTER
A
FUTILE
afternoon and evening spent searching for Emily, Jack sat at the island in Annie's kitchen with a cup of coffee. He had called her after Emily confronted him and stormed out of the station, and he'd had no choice but to tell her everything. She was upset, of course, and she'd decided it best not to say anything to her father or CJ until they tracked down Emily and made sure she was okay. Luckily, Thomas was out for the evening, CJ was spending the night in the stable nursing a rescued mare she had taken in, and Isaac was asleep, giving Jack and Annie the freedom to talk.

Together they had called Fred, because if she turned to anyone at a time like this, it would be him. That irked Jack more than he cared to admit, but he was also grateful the guy was staked out at the barbershop and would call the minute Emily returned to her apartment.

“I'm sorry you had to find out about your mother this way,” Jack said for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I've had my suspicions for a while, but I didn't want to say anything until I knew for sure and I only just found out myself.”

“Jack, you don't have to keep apologizing. To be honest, I developed a soft spot for Rose while she was staying here, and I think it's good she's back in town. Especially now that I know she's family. However, who our mother was and how she died has nothing to do with you. It's heartbreaking, and I understand why Emily is so upset, but she'll come around.”

He wished he could believe that. “She was devastated. The thing is, I was going to tell her, but I wanted to wait till the time was right.” Preferably after she said “I do.”

“Has my sister told you much about our mother?”

“She said she's always clung to the secret hope that your mother would come home someday.”

Annie wrapped her hands around her coffee mug as though she was seeking comfort. “I have better memories of our mother than either of my sisters. Looking back, I think she had some serious mental health issues. I didn't realize it at the time but as an adult, it's easier to put those memories into perspective.”

“Does Emily know that?”

“If she does, she didn't hear it from me. I know she's dreamed about a reunion someday, but for a long time I've known and accepted that it was never going to happen.”

It killed Jack to think the woman he loved was hurting like this, and having her turn away from his support hurt even more. “I think those feelings have intensified now that she's pregnant. Emily said she's not sure she'll be a good mother because she'd never had role model.”

Annie sighed. “The truth is, Emily is going to be an amazing mom. Your kid will be reading Tolstoy by the time he or she starts school.”

In spite of being sick with worry, the image made him smile. “She's an amazing woman.”

“You're in love with her, aren't you? It's not just because of the baby that you want to marry her, am I right?”

She was bang-on. He nodded. “Crazy mad in love with her.”

Annie beamed. “Have you told her?”

“No. I didn't think she was ready to hear it.”

Annie reached across the counter, gave his hand a reassuring pat. “You should have told her as soon as you figured it out. If you had, you might be married by now.”

He wasn't so sure about that. “I think I started falling for her when you and Eric got married.”

Annie hesitated, as though giving some thought to what she was about to say. “I'm going to let you in on another of Emily's secrets, but if you tell her I told you this, I will put a hit out on you.”

He laughed. “I'm good with secrets.”

“Emily had a major crush on you in high school. I've never snooped in her things, but I remember seeing her journal from time to time when she accidentally left it open on her desk.”

Interesting. “What did she say?”

“If you want specifics, you'll have to ask her yourself.”

And he might, if she ever spoke to him again.

His phone ringing startled both of them. He checked the call display. “It's work,” he said. “I have to take this.”

“Of course.”

He held it to his ear. “Evans here.”

“Jack, it's Lonnie Gable.”

“How's it going?”

“Just letting you know I picked up the garden-gnome bandit.”

He groaned. This was not something he wanted to deal with right now, but he didn't have a choice.

“Where are you now?”

“Taking her into the station.”

Her?
That was unexpected. “Who is it?”

“Emily Finnegan.”

“Did you say...never mind. Put her in a cell. I'll be there as quick as I can.”

“In a cell, sir? I'm not sure—”

“You heard me, Lonnie. I'm on my way.”

Annie was watching him closely. “Everything okay?”

“One of my patrol officers picked up the garden-gnome bandit. It's Emily.”

She stared at him with a blank expression for a full three seconds, and then she burst out laughing.

“Emily... Oh, my. This is too funny,” she gasped. “My sister is not a thief.” She dabbed the corners of her eyes with a paper napkin. “Will that officer...” More laughter. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” She drew in a deep, unsteady breath. “Is he really going to put her in a cell?”

One sure thing about a well-trained police officer, he or she always followed a command. Jack nodded.