She turned back to her food to find Lisette white-faced. Her gaze was on Peri’s shoulder. Only then did Peri realize that she’d put her hand on her weapon. For a moment she was frozen, then she could put her hand on the table.

  The bell over the door made Lisette jump. The panic in her face faded in an instant. “Sansa! I thought you were off for the day.”

  Peri didn’t turn, but she heard the faint creak of a leather belt and the scuff of boots. Local police?

  “Hi Lisette. I’m working Harley’s shift — his dad took a turn again tonight.” The voice was warm and decidedly female. “How’s the soup today?”

  “I haven’t had any, but A—… Ms. Garritsen has.”

  Peri sized up the officer who’d paused at their table. Possibly five seven to five nine, she was slender-hipped and broad-shouldered, with a long, tidy braid of black hair hanging most of the way down her back.

  “Sansa Kakaria, this is Peri Garritsen. She’s visiting the library for a few days.”

  Kakaria unbuttoned her thick khaki-colored overcoat, revealing a sheriff’s badge pinned to her forest-green uniform shirt. The regulation tie was fastidiously held in place by a gold tie tack engraved with “Ten Years’ Service.” Her weapon was holstered on the belt at her hips. “A pleasure. Welcome to Norcester.”

  Peri had thought the way Lisette said “Norcester” might be unique to her, but the sheriff confirmed that the middle was swallowed so it became simply “Nurhster.” Lisette had carefully not mentioned Peri’s affiliation, but the nearly black eyes had taken her in at a glance. Peri was certain the sheriff had seen the outline of her shoulder holster.

  “FBI or Homeland Security?”

  “The latter.”

  The eyes widened slightly as she studied Peri’s face. “I see.”

  Peri was certain that she did. “The soup was just what I wanted on a night like this.”

  “It’s a bit chilly out,” Kakaria agreed.

  Chilly — an understatement. Peri’s nose had been halfway to frostbite by the time she’d reached the diner. She’d been in colder places, but she’d been stronger then. The pain pill was kicking in, leaving her feeling the usual off-center and tired. She made herself focus on the conversation the other two women were having.

  “…and I couldn’t find the other box,” Kakaria was saying.

  Lisette pulled her cell phone from her pocket and swiped it open. “I’ll put it on the shopping list next time I’m in New Haven, though I don’t think either of us will be getting anywhere if the snow keeps coming down like this.”

  “The latest forecast upgraded to four feet, so I’m hoping to get home with some hot food.”

  Peri’s mind caught up to the clearly intimate relationship the two shared. She wouldn’t have said the librarian pinged at Peri’s gaydar, but the sheriff did, and birds of a feather…

  “Used to winter driving, Agent Garritsen?” Kakaria’s gun belt creaked as she shifted her weight.

  “I’ve done my share. There’s winter everywhere, even Georgia.”

  “If you call that winter.”

  “I do call that winter.”

  “That’s pitiful.” She ignored Peri’s shrug as the radio on her shoulder crackled. She cocked her head to listen and masked a sigh. “No dinner for me. See you later.” As she headed for the door she said into her shoulder radio, “Tell Harley to stay with his dad. I’ll see what the fuss is.”

  A silence fell between them, into which Peri said, “I see.”

  Lisette dunked a corner of her grilled cheese into the tomato soup. “What do you see, Agent Garritsen?”

  “When you said you’d call the sheriff to eject me it was no idle threat. She’s on speed dial.” Will conversations like these ever get less awkward? “Your wife? BFF?”

  “BFF. We’ve known each other since we were in diapers.”

  Peri realized that wasn’t the confirmation she’d been looking for. That’s what you get for offering multiple choice. Not that the librarian’s sexuality mattered, but it would be good to have a detail like that correct. To avoid inevitable social gaffes.

  Something must have shown in her face because Lisette raised her eyebrows.

  “Sansa already has that kind of girlfriend. Her name is Chelsea.”

  “I was filling in background. I prefer to be accurate.”

  Lisette gazed at her oddly for a moment, then shifted her shoulders in an almost shrug. “We’re a small town. Half the population has Sheriff Kakaria on speed dial because 9-1-1 is for emergencies.”

  “You don’t get those here?”

  “Sure, but if no one’s hurt or there’s no threat, the sheriff’s office will get there more quickly than something relayed through dispatch.”

  Peri was reluctant to finish her last spoonful of soup. It was tempting to linger over coffee with someone who didn’t stare or ask her every other minute how she was feeling. But she needed to crash, or she’d miss the window for sleep.

  Lisette preempted her by setting down her water glass with an air of finality. “I was going to get something to take home for tomorrow, but I don’t think I will now. It’s really starting to come down, so it’s tick-tock time. You have only a short walk?”

  “Yes, just to the motel.”

  “Good. Be sure to bundle tightly. You might consider getting something to go for breakfast. The rooms have microwaves, and a walk back here first thing won’t be any fun. Especially if the plows haven’t been through.”

  With that practical advice she was gone from the table. Peri tracked her path to the cash register and out the door. Then Peri took her advice and asked the waitress to bring another soup to go and a piece of pie. At the cash register she settled up for considerably less than the meal would have cost in Philly, with a few bills and coins back from her twenty. The bills went into the tip jar and the coins into her pocket with the rental car keys.

  She walked out just as the cook announced he was closing down because of the snow and urged everyone to head home.

  The town square had transformed. Tidy hedges were softened with white powder. The lamplights were shrouded with mist and swirling snow. The lights of City Hall opposite the square were muted into suggestions of yellow, and the library beyond was a square hint behind the billows of snow that now seemed to be pouring by the bucket out of the sky. She glanced behind her — the Spic-and-Span lights were already dimmed and the parking lot almost empty.

  That she was grateful to reach her room was an understatement. The heat came on quickly and promised warmth. The soup went into the icebox, and, with a surprising show of hunger, the cranberry-apple pie went into her stomach. The sturdy but tender crust and judicious hand with the sugar reminded her of pastry in Germany.

  She was in the act of unbuttoning her shirt when she realized that the clamor in her ears wasn’t all fatigue. Somewhere there was an alarm ringing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LISETTE HAD SCARCELY MADE it one slip-and-slide half mile toward home when Pink’s sassy voice sounded from her phone singing, “I’m trouble, yeah trouble now!”

  Great — a library security notification.

  She deeply regretted associating a good song with what had become a deeply annoying, chronic situation. Adding the Annex had included upgrading the security system. She’d spent the past year arguing with the security firm about the crystal-clear correlation between sub-freezing temperatures and window alarm sensors going off for no reason.

  It took a nano-second glance at her phone in its dashboard cradle to confirm the notification was for a supposed newly opened window on the east-facing side of the Annex. Of course. She had just gotten warm enough to take off her gloves for better control of the steering wheel.

  She said a rude word and several more, with heartfelt intensity, and began the slow process of turning around in the ever-growing drifts of snow blowing across the road. From the vibration of her tires she could tell the snow under them was a mix of glaze, ice, and muddy water. She slipped a little as she unwound from the Y-turn, then the snow tire tread caught. If getting the damn alarm shut off took too long she’d have to put on chains to get home.

  She did not want to put on chains.

  “You’ve gotten spoiled,” she muttered. “Living in a world of almost always accurate weather predictions. Ten years ago you’d have put on chains, just in case, and Dad would have called three times offering to do it.” Her father was spending the holidays in Scotland with other retirees, so it wouldn’t be him that she called. It’d be Sansa, and she did not need that kind of grief in her life.

  Feeling like the only living being in town, she pulled up as close as possible to the ramp from the street to the main door. The alarm was clanging like an endless dinner bell, but thankfully muted by the falling snow. Nevertheless, next Town Council meeting someone would complain about the noise, and then one of the Trustees would opine that the security system was expensive and seemed like a waste when their library had never been burgled and wasn’t likely to be.

  Then it would be open season on every line item in the library budget, and someone would suggest that too much had been spent on the Teen Room when these kids today don’t even read, and why were they spending so much on electricity because wasn’t the newfangled solar-powered system on the roof supposed to make everything free? Then would come the idea that with only a little effort, the library could be staffed entirely by volunteers, you know, with high schoolers who could earn English course credit.

  She wanted to go at least one month without those conversations.

  With a deep sigh, she cinched her parka tight around her face, put her gloves back on, and thrust open the Jeep’s heavy door. Her breath caught in her throat, and she guessed it was twenty degrees and would get even colder by midnight. She spared herself falling twice by keeping one hand gripped to the railing.

  Storm, my ass. This is a blizzard. The latest weather report she’d heard in the car said the snowfall would stop about one a.m. She’d believe that when she was inside her own house sipping the hot chocolate she very much deserved.

  She punched in her access code and got a green light to enter. The alarm continued to clang. She wished she could make the rep for the security company stand right here for five minutes. With the alarm ringing. While he punched in codes that did nothing to silence it.

  Entering the code at the door had triggered the emergency lighting. It was enough to see her way across the lobby. At her office she mopped off her glasses and turned on the zone lighting, giving her a brightly lit path to the IT server room which also housed the main alarm panel. It took several minutes for the interface to wake up and come online, during which she contemplated the email she would compose to the CEO of the security company and the bullet points in which she would set out her extreme dissatisfaction with its performance.

  She wondered if asking how to arrange for deinstallation and refund might get them to actually care about a little library in a small town with a library manager who doesn’t want to be turning off an alarm at nine p.m. during a blizzard.

  Finally she was able to tap open the master control and set the window alarm sensors to off. It left the building vulnerable, but there was no other way around it.

  The clanging stopped. A wave of euphoria swept over her — not enough to quell the throbbing of her ear drums — and she heaved a sigh of relief.

  Her phone rang. Hah! It was the call center for the security company.

  A polite male voice greeted her. “Good evening, Ms. Osborne. I’m calling because some of your building protection settings have been turned off.”

  “Yes. I did it myself. The window sensors were reporting another false positive because the outside temperature is below thirty tonight.”

  “I’ll generate a trouble ticket to the technicians.”

  She resisted the urge to snap at the person on the phone. Whoever or wherever they were, the situation was not their fault. “I’d appreciate it if you escalated it to whomever would care that this is a chronic problem. You can quote me that I thought we were installing a security system, not a very expensive thermometer.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that you’re having ongoing issues,” was said with enough sincerity that Lisette believed it. “I don’t have access to your files.”

  “I understand. If you can, do include my comment. I’ll be following up with a letter.”

  She could hear the rapid tapping of a keyboard. When it stopped, the tech read off a ticket number and finished with, “I hope you can get this resolved.”

  Lisette expressed that it was her hope as well and disconnected. With the alarm panel shut and relocked, she reversed her path out of the IT room, across the staff work area, and back into the main building.

  That’s when she heard the sound of the front door closing. Her entire body went a different kind of cold as she quickly darted behind the nearest set of shelves.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LEAVE IT BE, PERI tried to tell herself, but a nagging little voice inside wouldn’t let it go. An alarm ringing wasn’t her business. She should let the no-doubt efficient Sheriff Kakaria figure it out. She was too tired, and her pain pill was at the stage where it either helped a lot more or stopped helping at all. She’d hoped to be asleep before it wore off.

  Nevertheless, she opened the motel room door and cocked her head to try to localize the sound. The streets were deserted now. Everything was covered in white. The snow sent the clamor in all directions, but it seemed to mostly be coming from across the Village Green. A flare of headlights from the direction of the library was quickly doused. A stranded motorist? Someone trying to return books?

  You don’t believe that.

  With a sigh she decided it wouldn’t kill her to walk to the Green and see if she could tell anything about the noise that she could then report to 9-1-1. The passage of cars leaving the diner had left a trail to walk in part of the way, though it was rapidly filling with more snow.

  When she finally reached the nearest corner of the Village Green, she had to accept that this adventure was exceedingly foolish even as an inner voice urged her to press onward. Her practical wet weather boots were demonstrating the difference between water-resistant and waterproof as her toes began to feel damp. Her coat and gloves were warm, but a snow beanie — any hat at all — would have made a world of difference.

  The ringing alarm was coming from the library. There was no sign of anyone else coming to investigate.

  Why did she care about the security of Lisette Osborne’s library? It wasn’t her business. Even if someone was boosting computers, she was in no shape to do anything about it. There was virtually no scenario where her brandishing a firearm would be warranted, let alone actually help.

  It was the vague outline of a Jeep parked at an awkward angle near the entrance that made her press on even though the cold air was making her teeth hurt and lungs ache. The trees on the Village Green were thick enough that the sidewalk was not as deep with snow as the street.

  The Jeep was definitely familiar. When she’d arrived earlier she’d made a cursory glance of the parking lot to get one measure of community affluence. She remembered this vehicle because it was a striking cobalt blue, and the back was thickly covered with bumper stickers that exhorted the power of books, reading, and libraries. She’d assumed it belonged to a staff member.

  Now she was willing to bet it was Lisette’s, and something had brought her back to her library instead of home. Perhaps she’d inadvertently set off the alarm herself when she’d unlocked the door? Maybe, but there was no way that Lisette Osborne didn’t know how to turn the alarm off again, Peri told herself. It had been ringing for at least seven minutes — probably longer, as it had taken her a while to hear it.

  It was possible, though, that something or someone had prevented Lisette from turning the alarm off.

  Peri knew she was far from what anyone would deem a knight in shining armor. Lisette was no damsel in distress. Nevertheless, the plain and simple truth was that if something was awry and Peri found out about it later, she’d have another sky full of regret hanging over her.

  You do not need more of that.

  It wasn’t in her to turn back at this point, and she used anything that would hold her up to keep moving — mailbox to lamppost to entry sign, and finally the railing of the entrance ramp. Every inch of exposed skin was near frozen while she was sweating profusely under the jacket.

  She found the main door unlocked. The interior lights were dim but definitely on. The thrum of the alarm made it hard to think.

  She had let the outer set of doors swing shut behind her when the alarm stopped. If she hadn’t been half-frozen she might have turned around, but the shelter of the building was extremely welcome. Some rescue — all she wanted was the comfortable chair next to the fireplace she’d seen earlier in a nook off the main bookshelves. And for that fireplace to be on.

  What’s next? A cozy quilt? Adopting cats and cooing over garden gnomes?

  It was warmer when she made it through the inner doors. Not warm, but warmer. The doors closed automatically with a scrape of metal. She thought she heard someone moving in the vicinity of a brighter cluster of lights but couldn’t be sure. Her ears were still throbbing.

  After holding her breath for moment and not hearing anything more, she decided to walk toward the better-lit area so she could be seen more readily. All at once she realized that if she were Lisette and she’d just heard someone come into what should be a deserted building on a blizzard-blanketed night, she’d be scared. She could be dialing 9-1-1 right now, which would bring some first responder out into the cold for nothing.

  After the deepest breath her ribs would allow, she called out, “Hello? Ms. Osborne? It’s Peri Garritsen. I heard the alarm. Do you need assistance?”

  Lisette appeared from around a corner holding a metal bookend in one hand. Peri recognized that, if swung at the right angle with sufficient force, the bookend could have added to the scar she already had.

 

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