Instantly, I plunge to the ground and huddle behind the counter, out of sight of the windows, praying to any and every deity in existence that I won’t get caught here like this, in my bra, with a bag full of diamonds.

My heart is thumping so loudly in my ears I can’t hear anything else.

The light is dancing on the wall behind me and then it suddenly veers off and disappears.

It was probably just someone driving by.

I’m an idiot.

Regardless, I stay in my hiding spot, waiting and listening, until the thumping of my heart subsides and everything remains dark and quiet.

Anxious to be done, I stand and move back out of sight of the camera before I continue throwing things to dislodge my shirt.

It takes longer than I want, but eventually it slips to the ground and I crawl over, out of sight of the lens, to retrieve it.

Once I have all my supplies in hand, I sneak back out the back door, making sure to retrieve the magnet as well. When I’m outside, I breathe a sigh of relief.

A cranky voice flies through the quiet night. “There’s no one out here.”

Stiffening, I press my back up against the wall, squeezing myself into the narrow shadow between the building and a Dumpster.

“I saw someone jumping around in there, I swear it.”

Oh, no. I know that voice.

Mrs. Olsen. There’s the squeaky sound of wheels against the pavement and then I see them.

They stop at the mouth to the alley underneath the illuminating cone of a streetlight. Mrs. Olsen is pushing Miss Viola in her completely unnecessary wheelchair. They’re both in pajamas—button-up shirts and cotton pants, and they both have pink curlers in their hair.

What are they doing out this late?

“You’re such a drama queen,” Miss Viola says.

“I’m the drama queen? I’m not the one jumping off of cliffs in my unmentionables.”

Miss Viola waves her hand. “That was forever ago.”

“Two weeks is forever?”

“Would you quit your whining and get us back to the car?”

“You were the one who wanted to come outside at this godforsaken time of night.” Mrs. Olsen lets go of the wheelchair to plant her hands on her hips.

“I can’t help it, I needed fresh air. I’ve been having the hot flashes.”

“Hot flashes? You went through menopause thirty years ago.”

“It wasn’t that long ago.”

“Oh really, your dive into the ocean was forever ago, but menopause was just last week? You’re deluded. It’s not menopause, it’s dementia.”

“I’m not demented.”

I cover my mouth with my hand to keep laughter from bursting out.

Mrs. Olsen jumps and lets out a startled shriek. “Did you see that? Something just moved.”

“Nothing is there.”

“I can see someone just standing there. Over by the garbage!” Mrs. Olsen flaps a hand, waving at her face. “I think I might pass out.”

“You’re fine. No one is there. It’s your old eyes playing tricks. Why would anyone be skulking about the garbage in the middle of the night?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a robber.”

“A robber of trash?”

“Maybe they’re looking for something specific that people throw away, like underwear. I saw it on the news. There was a man in New York stealing people’s used underwear.”

“That didn’t happen. And it’s not stealing if it’s in the garbage. Now let’s go home and leave the panty thief to his own devices.”

Mrs. Olsen grumbles, “So now you believe me about seeing someone stealing panties?” She starts walking again, so I don’t hear Miss Viola’s response. They head back down the street and I hold my breath until they’re out of sight.

I wait a few extra minutes before leaving my hiding place.

I wish I could go home, but I’m not done yet.

It takes me about thirty minutes to walk to where the parents are staying. I ease a wedge into the top corner of the Mercedes’s door to hold it open and then use a slender piece of crooked metal to click the release on the door lock without triggering the alarm. I’ve done this more than a few times and can break into a car faster than AAA. I click the trunk open and stash the little bag of jewels in the hidden compartment with the spare tire.

Slinking back home in the dark, I smile at my victory. Now it’s just a matter of waiting for the robbery to be reported.

 

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

The next afternoon, I’m nearly dying of anticipation by the time Jared pops in with lunch.

And a surprise.

“What is that?”

“It’s a bike for Paige.” He rolls the bicycle into the shop. It’s a nice, comfy-looking beach cruiser in pale blue with little skulls painted on it. “You were saying she’s been bored since Naomi left so I thought this might cheer her up.”

I can only shake my head at him. He’s too much.

“Where is she?”

“She went to the park with Mr. Bingel and the boys. They should be back soon.”

He leans the bike against the wall and walks over to me. He leans across the register for a quick kiss. “I brought her a sandwich, too.”

“I can put it in the fridge. She ate some cereal before she left for the park.”

He pulls our lunch out of the plastic bag in his hand. “You know I really should teach you how to cook.”

“I can cook.”

“I mean something more than a bowl of cereal,” he says, handing me my turkey sub.

“I’m an excellent mac ’n’ cheese chef. And grilled cheese. And toast.”

He rolls his eyes. “I stand corrected. When the zombie apocalypse hits, I’m immediately coming to your place.”

“Because I’m awesome?”

“And because you have all the foods with the extra preservatives.”

“Ha ha. I guess you can teach me some survival skills. I do like shocking Paige with handy new abilities.” I unwrap my food and set it on the counter in front of me.

“What’s her favorite food? One that doesn’t come in a box,” he clarifies.

I shrug. “Probably spaghetti.”

“Good. That’s easy enough. We’ll start there.”

We smile and give each other googly eyes, a move that would have made me sick a few months ago if I had witnessed it, but now it makes my stomach warm and fuzzy.

“How’s your day going so far?” I ask, taking a bite of sandwich.

“Good. Same as always.”

I try to school my features to remain neutral. But.

Same as always?

Really?

“Oh, there was one thing. I had an interesting call from Mrs. Olsen this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She and Miss Viola saw some guy in an alley spying on them. They seemed to think he was going to steal their unmentionables. And he was all in black, just like Mrs. Newsome’s ninja at the park the other night.”

“Strange. Do you think they really saw someone?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s weird two different people saw someone matching the same description creeping around. But Mrs. Olsen said the guy they saw was at least seven feet tall and looked like a pervert, even though they never saw his face. Also no crimes have been reported, so it might be nothing. What do you think? Do you know anything about this man in black? Have any gut feelings?”

My mouth opens, ready to give a negative reply, but then I pause. The robbery obviously hasn’t been discovered yet; Jared would have said something if it had. I don’t understand why, but I need to get it moving. The sooner the parents fall under some kind of suspicion, the better. Mother said she would buy me “a few more days,” but that’s vague, which means they could be showing up any day now.

“What is it?” he asks when I don’t say anything right away.

“Where did Mrs. Olsen see this ninja guy?”

“Over behind the Main Street shops.”

“Maybe you should check with the businesses over there. Maybe something is missing, but it hasn’t been called in or noticed yet.”

“You think so?”

I shut my eyes, making sure to furrow my brow with thought before I relax my face and then nod. “Yes.”

It’s weird that this time I’m the cause of the latest mystery in Castle Cove. One more thing to add to the guilt pile. Pretty soon, it’s going to be big enough to crush me.

“Okay, I’ll check it out.”

We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Jared speaks again. “So Tabby and Troy’s birthday party is Tuesday, did she tell you?”

“She did mention something about a bonfire on the beach.”

“Yep. We’ve done the same thing every year since we were teens. There’s music and drinks and lots of reminiscing about the good old days.”

I wrinkle my nose. “The good old days? That makes you sound old.”

He nudges me with a shoulder. “I am way older than you. And as your elder, I am demanding you come with me to the party. We’ll bring tents and camp out on the beach afterward.”

“Sounds fun. Can Paige come?”

“Of course. I have an extra one-person pop-up tent she can use.”

“She’ll love it. We’ve never been camping.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“You’re really taking this bossy thing to a whole new level.”

He rolls his eyes and keeps talking. “The gala for the library.”

“Yeah, Eleanor mentioned it.”

“You want to come with me? I’ll wear a tux.”

“When is the gala?”

“Next Friday night. It’s fancy. I would buy you a dress for the event,” he starts, holding up a hand when I open my mouth to protest. “But I knew you wouldn’t like that, so I talked to Tabby and she said you could borrow one of hers. She’s going, too, by the way, and she wants you to call her so you can get in on her evil plans. Her words, not mine.”

“Okay.” I smile.

“Okay,” he repeats.

“Are you done planning the rest of our lives?” I roll my eyes and shake my head like I hate it, but inside I actually love it.

And then we do this really annoying lovebird thing where we sort of look at each other, smiling and happy, until he leans over and rubs the corner of my mouth with his thumb.

“You had some mustard.” He puts his thumb in his mouth to suck it off and my body heats.

“Are you done eating?” I ask, a bit breathless.

“Yep.” His eyes are intent and he pulls me toward him until we’re pressed together. “You might be a little late reopening after lunch.”

“A little late?” I feign disappointment.

“Maybe a lot late.”