Читать книгу Meg Harris Mysteries 7-Book Bundle - R.J. Harlick - Страница 24

I reached the turnoff to Three Deer Point in the failing light. The deluge, which had been threatening from the moment I left Ottawa, let loose as my truck turned off the main road. With wipers on overdrive, I drove up the long twisting lane to my cottage and came to a stop as close to the side entrance as possible. I flung open the door and scrambled up the stairs to the protective cover of the verandah.

The screen door banged in the wind. Sergei emerged from the trees on the other side of the driveway. Yelping wildly, he raced through the rain towards me. All my nerve endings went into high alert.

I’d left him locked in the house.

He crashed up the stairs and flung himself at me, whining and yelping, a turmoil of flying water and black fur. I placed a firm hand on his wet back to try to calm him down.

How in hell did he get out?

With racing heart, I tiptoed along the porch towards the kitchen door with Sergei glued to my side. The door swung open at my touch. The dog started to growl. I carefully pushed the door further open and walked gingerly into the kitchen. Everything looked normal. Exactly the way I’d left it that morning, dishes stacked at the sink, newspapers scattered on the table.

Sergei growled louder, ears flat against his head. Suddenly, he pounced snarling into the living room. In the uproar, I almost missed the tinkling sound of breakage.

I raced into the room only to see the front door slam, the dog yelping furiously in its wake. Stumbling over him, I managed to pull the door open just in time to see a figure in brilliant yellow disappearing through the rain down the stairs to the dock.

Without thinking, I ran after the intruder, but by the time I reached the top of the stairs, it was too late. From below came the roar of a high-speed motor. Through the streaming curtain, I watched the retreating boat speed towards Forgotten Bay, the yellow figure a blur in the vanishing stern.

I slapped the railing in anger, then reality set in. What was I doing? This could’ve been the guy who’d tried to kill me on Whispers Island. What if I’d caught up to him?

Preferring not to dwell on the answer, I headed back through the rain to the cottage. Still, it would’ve been helpful to see his face. And then I realized there was a safer way to discover who he was. I raced inside and phoned the Fishing Camp.

John-Joe answered, and judging by the noise level in the background, he was in the bar.

I shouted above the din, “Could you please look out your window and tell me if you see anyone at the dock or approaching in a fast boat?”

“Hang on while I take a look.”

Several minutes passed. I impatiently brushed the dripping water from my eyes while I tried to ignore the growing puddle on the floor. A soggy Sergei clung to my side like a frightened child. I gave him a comforting squeeze.

Finally, John-Joe returned. “Meg. You still there? Yeah, number of guys on the dock. A big fishing party just come in. That help?”

“Did you recognize anyone?”

“Sure did. Eric and Tommy. And some suit, probably from that mining company, standing by a real cool car. Boy, what I’d give to own one of those. Oh yeah, and there was another guy tying up a boat, but I couldn’t tell who it was.”

“Quick, go see who it is.”

Cool car? Must be Gareth. I wondered what brought him back here so quickly.

“Hi again. Sorry, the guy’s gone.”

“Damn. Was anyone wearing yellow?”

“Sure were, most of the guys. They’ve got the Camp’s rain gear on.”

Of course. How could I have been so stupid not to remember the yellow rain slickers? Even Eric had forgotten about them. But I supposed it was human nature not to focus on the obvious. And what could be more obvious? The lake was sprinkled with yellow dots whenever it rained.

And that was the problem. Everyone had access to the Camp’s rain gear. I’d even borrowed a jacket once or twice myself. So although I now knew the guy was probably wearing the camp’s rain gear, the knowledge wouldn’t lead me to him.

But I could probably eliminate Louis as my attacker on Whispers Island, unless the guy tonight was a completely different person, which seemed unlikely.

While I waited for the police to drive from Somerset, I seethed at the damage this thief had done to my pride and joy. Perhaps it wasn’t much by city standards, but it was enough to get me vowing I’d never let anyone invade my privacy again.

If the guy had rifled the kitchen drawers, I might not have been so upset, but he had invaded what was most personal, my bedroom. It seemed as if every item of clothing I owned, including my underpants and bras, lay scattered on the floor with the overturned drawers on top. Even my bed hadn’t been immune to his invasive search. The bedclothes were ripped off and the mattress dragged partially from the bed frame.

But these seemed to be the only things he touched. The pictures were still hanging on the walls, even the Tom Thomson cigar box sketch, though I supposed only an art connoisseur would know its real value.

Although my jewel box had been moved, a quick glance revealed my aunt’s diamond butterfly brooch and my wedding rings were still inside. The brooch, however, wasn’t in its usual spot, which suggested the intruder had actually looked at it. But since I hadn’t worn it for some time, I could easily have forgotten where I’d last placed it.

As for the living room, I could only describe it as my worst nightmare. Chairs were overturned. Stuffing oozed from slashed sofa cushions. Chips of blue paisley porcelain lay scattered over the stone hearth, which probably explained the tinkling sound I’d heard. A set of whiskers and a glaring eye stared back at me from one of the larger pieces. At least Sergei would be happy to discover his stalking china cat was no more.

Nor did the intruder leave my desk alone. He’d dumped the contents of every drawer onto the floor. He’d even forced the lock of the one drawer I thought secure. And from the way my correspondence and financial statements were strewn across the desk, I’d say he went through the documents one by one. Thankfully, nothing appeared to be missing, although I decided I’d call my banker first thing in the morning. I did, however, say a silent prayer to François, who’d recommended that I secure all the really important documents, such as bonds and the Three Deer Point deed, in a safety deposit box.

A quick search that revealed no other rooms had been touched and everything of value, like my stereo and computer, even Aunt Aggie’s silver, was still in its place. It was obvious that this guy was no ordinary thief But when the police finally arrived, they jumped to the same conclusion that Tommy had when his place was broken into. They assumed it was someone from the reserve looking for a few thrills.

But I refused to believe that. Thrill seekers didn’t take the time to go through personal files. Nor were they likely to go after the same person twice. Nope. This guy wanted something from me. But what?

And though it looked as if his motive on the island was to keep me from trespassing, tonight he was the trespasser. So what was he after? I could only hope that tonight’s attempt was enough to convince him that, whatever it was, it wasn’t here.

Later, as I swept up the shattered cat, I did discover one missing item, of no value except to me.

Aunt Aggie’s wedding picture was gone.