After dinner, Garrett went home to pack for his trip and Dahlia returned to the bookstore. She was determined to get her accounting in order to gain a better idea of her financial standing before the big Founder’s Day weekend. She looked at the calendar hanging on the wall. Had the town actually been founded on the first weekend of August? If not, someone had created a smart ploy to separate tourists from their money, as Founder’s Day weekend fell halfway between the fourth of July and Labor Day.

She heard Wendy banging around upstairs around eight, but didn’t look at her watch again until after ten when someone knocked on the front door. She was about to go get it when Wendy hurried down the stairs and answered it. The commanding voice of Police Chief Lee echoed through the front room.

Dahlia peeked her head around the office door. Chief Lee stood near the front door talking with Wendy.

“Ms. Danville, I’m afraid there’s been a break-in at your summer market booth.”

Wendy was facing Chief Lee with her back turned to Dahlia. Wendy wrapped her sweater tighter against her body and cupped her elbows.

“What do you mean, a break-in? Did they steal something?”

“We’re not sure, ma’am. It looks like the perpetrators focused on vandalizing your wares rather than stealing them.”

“My furniture.” Wendy’s voice lacked any emotion. She lowered herself to sit on a chair. Dahlia had a clear view of her face now, which was devoid of color. Her features had wrinkled and in that moment, she looked a decade older.

“What did they do to my furniture?” Her voice was suddenly full of a sense of urgency.

Chief Lee shook his head. “We’ll need you to come to the booth and help us determine the damage and if anything was stolen.”

“Okay.” She stood. “Let me get some shoes on and I’ll meet you there.”

The policeman left the building and Wendy slowly climbed the stairs to her apartment.

Dahlia closed her computer and waited for her to return. When she heard footsteps come down the stairs, she walked out to the hallway. “I overheard your conversation with Chief Lee,” she said. “I’m coming with you.” She wasn’t taking no for an answer. Her new friend had already been under so much stress and she wasn’t sure how she’d handle this new issue.

Wendy didn’t reply, but she hugged Dahlia and they walked silently out the front door. Dahlia ensured the door latched and locked behind them.

As the brisk night air hit them, Wendy seemed to come out of her catatonic state. Dahlia stopped her a few feet down the sidewalk. “Is there anything I should know? If there’s someone from your past trying to scare you, I’d like to know. I can keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”

She sighed. “No, I really can’t think of anyone. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

Chief Lee had paused at the street corner to talk with someone on his cell phone. As they approached, he hung up. “I’m sorry about this, Ms. Danville,” he said. “We’ll do everything we can to catch the perpetrator.”

The three of them walked to the Marina Park in silence. The cool, moist air kissed Dahlia’s face. Being out at night invigorated her and combined with her anxiety over the condition of Wendy’s booth, she felt wired and on edge. Muffled music came from the bar, but otherwise the town was quiet. The playground swings floated in the air as a breeze blew them from side to side, the only sign of life in the eerily empty park.

A police officer was guarding the entrance to Wendy’s booth. Yellow tape surrounded the scene and the flashing red and blue lights had attracted a few bystanders. Dahlia, Wendy and the Chief ducked under the tent’s canvas covering and Chief Lee aimed his flashlight on Wendy’s merchandise.

Dahlia sucked in her breath.

The vandal had flung red paint over half of the furniture and used a sharp object to rip open the cushions of the reupholstered couch, sending tufts of spongy stuffing to the ground. A dream catcher swung drunkenly from the middle support of the tent.

Wendy’s eyes filled with tears. “Who would have done this?” she said softly. She ran her hands over the furniture. Wet paint streaked her fingers like blood and she held them in the air, staring at them, but not seeming to comprehend the devastation wreaked upon her booth.

Dahlia put an arm around her friend, who continued to fixate on the red stains on her hands, as if avoiding the horror of the rest of the booth.

“How did this happen?” Dahlia asked Chief Lee. “I thought there were patrols of the summer market.”

He hung his head, then looked up. “We have patrols, but there are only three of us to monitor the whole town. There was a report of a break-in over at the Lutheran church, but when we arrived, nothing was amiss. When Officer Diaz returned to the market, he discovered Ms. Danville’s booth had been vandalized.”

Dahlia looked over at Officer Diaz. He leaned against the patrol car, with his hands in his pockets, tracing circles in the dirt with the toe of his shoe as he snuck peeks at the group gathered at Wendy’s booth.

“I apologize for this, but does anything look out of place, other than the paint and ripped cushions?” Chief Lee asked.

Wendy scanned the booth as if taking in the full extent of the damage for the first time. Her gaze caught on the dream catcher and any remaining color in her face drained out.

She pointed at the dream catcher. “That’s not mine.”

The police chief regarded her thoughtfully and then walked over to the offensive object. “This?” He poked it with a pencil. Charms on the dream catcher glittered in the lights of the patrol car.

Wendy nodded and the police chief used a plastic evidence bag to remove the dream catcher and string from the tent support pole.

“Does this look familiar?” He held the plastic-encased object up to Wendy.

“Yes.” She trembled as he pushed it closer to her.

Dahlia narrowed her eyes at Wendy. “Wendy, do you know who did this?”

“I think so, maybe,” she said. “I don’t know.” Her voice shook with fear.

“Ma’am, if you have any idea who did this, it’s in your best interests to tell me,” Chief Lee said.

Wendy breathed deeply. “Last year, I was working the Oregon Coast craft market circuit. There was a man there who wanted to date me. I went out with him once, but we didn’t really click.” She glanced down at her hands, as if just remembering the drying red paint. She rubbed her fingers together. “He didn’t take well to me rejecting his advances. Nothing major happened, but I was tired of him pursuing me, so I decided to move on to Washington.”

“And the significance of the dream catcher?” Chief Lee prodded.

“He sold dream catchers,” Wendy said. “That was his thing. He was really into dreams and their meanings, as well as anything having to do with dreams. In fact, that was why he fixated on me. He’d had a dream of us getting married, so he was convinced that it was meant to be.” She shook her head. “I’d never have gone out with him in the first place if I’d known he was so loopy. He seemed nice and normal at first.”

“Can you give me his name?” Chief Lee asked.

“Dale Peters.”

He wrote it down and asked Wendy a few more questions, which she answered.

Dahlia tugged at her sleeve and whispered, “Wendy, tell him about the threatening card.”

Wendy deflated further.

“Ma’am? Is there something else I should know?”

“About a week ago, someone left an envelope and card for me in front of To Be Read,” Wendy said. “I didn’t think it was a big deal, so I didn’t call the police or anything.”

“Do you think the vandalism of Wendy’s truck and the note are related to this?” Dahlia asked Chief Lee.

“I don’t know for sure, but I’ll check it out. Do you still have the envelope and card?”

“No,” Wendy said. “I threw them away.”

Chief Lee made some more notes. “Thank you, ma’am.” He flipped his notepad closed. “We’ll look into this. For now, please be aware of your surroundings. We don’t know where this man is or what he plans to do next, so it’s best you aren’t alone. Is there anyone you can stay with?”

Tears slipped down Wendy’s face. “I can’t go somewhere else. I’ve got to work on my furniture. Half of my inventory is ruined.” She gestured to the destroyed furniture. “Founder’s Day is next weekend. I have to have inventory for that. From what I’ve heard, it’s one of the biggest sale days of the summer.”

“I can stay with her at the apartment over the bookstore,” Dahlia said. She turned to Wendy. “If that’s okay with you? I can sleep on the couch and keep you company.” It wouldn’t hurt her to spend the extra time at the bookstore. She had a lot of work to do before Founder’s Day as well.

Wendy nodded, and relief passed across her face. “I’d like that.”

“I’d prefer for you both to be off the bookstore premises, but it’s better than nothing,” said Chief Lee. “I’ll have my officers patrol the area around the bookstore more frequently.”

“Now that we’ve got that settled, when can I start cleaning up these pieces?” Wendy asked. Her color had returned and she seemed determined to move on.

A female police officer in her late twenties had been taking pictures of the crime scene. She now stood off to the side, reviewing the shots she’d taken. Chief Lee glanced at her and she gave him a thumbs-up.

“We’re about finished here,” he said. “You should be able to get started in the morning.”

“I’ll be here at six,” Wendy said. “Maybe I can rescue a few items and have them ready by the time the market opens at nine.”

“I can help you,” Dahlia said, but immediately regretted her words. As it was already midnight, six o’clock would be a miserably early wake-up time. The grateful smile on Wendy’s face made her promise worth it.

“I’ll walk you back to the bookstore,” Chief Lee said. “Ms. Winters, do you need an escort back to your house to get things for tonight? I can have Officer Jenkins go to your house with you.” He gestured to the female police officer.

“No, I’m fine.” When she’d cleaned out the apartment, she’d found stacks of linens and blankets, so she knew she wouldn’t need anything to stay at Wendy’s apartment. Her favorite pillow would have been nice, but the extra sleep she’d gain by not going home first sounded even nicer.

When they arrived at To Be Read, Chief Lee searched the interior of the bookstore and the upstairs apartment. After finding nothing suspicious, he allowed them inside. “Make sure to lock all the doors and windows,” he advised.

Dahlia felt like saluting him, but instead said, “We will, thank you.”

She locked the door behind him and watched through the front window as he retreated down the sidewalk. His presence had provided a sense of security, but now she realized how vulnerable she and Wendy were alone in the bookstore. A beam of light strobed through the room, reassuring her that the extra safety patrols had begun.

She turned to Wendy, who had collapsed in one of the armchairs. “Are you okay? Do you need me to get you anything? A cup of tea maybe?”

“I’m fine,” Wendy said, her voice quieter than usual. “I don’t think I’m going to be getting any work done tonight though. I’ll have to make do with the remaining furniture to sell tomorrow.”

“Let’s get to bed then.” Dahlia checked her watch. They’d be lucky to be in bed by one. While she’d been a night owl in her college days, she now treasured every minute of sleep.

They trudged up the apartment stairs together. Wendy retreated to her bedroom and Dahlia pulled the extra linens out of the closet and arranged them on the sofa. Not the most luxurious of accommodations, but it would do. A breeze came through the open window, ruffling the curtains.

Had she checked the locks downstairs? The apartment window was high enough that no one could enter it without an extremely tall ladder, but she’d better check the back door. In all the excitement, she couldn’t remember locking it.

She crept down the stairs, not wanting to wake Wendy. The older woman had fallen asleep immediately after entering her bedroom and her snoring filtered out through the closed door.

She double checked the front door and the small windows that opened on either side of the big front window. All were locked. In the back room, she pulled on the door to the alley to make sure it was tightly closed.

Crash. She whipped around at the sound. A few books had fallen off a precariously perched stack of books. Not surprising that they’d fallen, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. The threat of Wendy’s stalker was making her paranoid.

She went back upstairs and lay on the too-soft couch. Wendy’s snoring and thoughts of the stalker kept her awake. The police needed to catch him soon, or she was going to be a nervous wreck.