AA batteries
Lighter fluid
Weather radio
Pocket knife, five inch
Lavender soap, one bar
His heart raced. His mouth hung open as he turned page after page, finding similar items. He skipped back to the beginning to note the dates. The earliest one was nearly six years ago.
Six years.
Eagan swallowed the lump in his throat. Finger leading his eyes, he combed through each page. Fishing rods, tackle, a variety of tools, a hairbrush, toilet paper. The next page had only one item listed.
Box full of scrap paper/cardboard
The words had been scratched out and replaced with,
Box full of love letters
Irreplaceable
Put off burning them as long as I could. Almost too long. I’m so sorry, Rose and Arnold.
Forgive me.
Eagan stood there so long, staring at that page, reading it over and over. When he finally looked up, the kitchen was clean and Bailey was gone.
Irreplaceable.
He thumbed through the book again. These were notes. Records of what she’d taken over the years. There was only one reason she’d keep track. It was because she intended on paying it all back.
His thief… she was homeless. She took the things she needed to survive. And she planned on making amends one day.
Eagan’s chest ached.
What had happened to her? Why was she alone in the woods and homeless for so long? He remembered the shocked look in her eyes when he’d grabbed her. She hadn’t said a word, but he could feel her surprise. When was the last time she’d been touched? The last time she’d interacted with other people?
A protective instinct rose up in him. He didn’t know her or how she came to be such a clever thief, but the need to help her clawed at him inside. He couldn’t rat her out to Magic. Not yet. Not until he at least tried to make this better.
Eagan tucked the notebook back into his pocket and ran a hand through his spiky hair as he paced the tiled floor. She’d be back. She’d need to eat. And he had a feeling she wouldn’t leave her book.
He knew what to do.
He rushed to the walk-in to find the leftover stew. All the remaining food from the day was open to whoever wanted it. Usually cats who’d missed dinner would come scrounging for it, but it was so late, they were likely done for the night. Piling his arms full of cobbler and biscuits, he brought it all to the counter. Luckily, it was still warm.
Reaching over the counter, he pulled down some to-go containers, filling the first to the brim with the hearty stew he’d made for the lodge. He added a drizzle of sour cream and a sprig of parsley before putting the lid on. The second container, he filled with Bailey’s cobblers. One piece of each, in case his female didn’t like one of the flavors. He bagged up several biscuits and added them, along with a napkin and utensils to the pile of offerings.
Rubbing his palms together, he stood back, looking at the food. Something was missing.
Ah, yes. He snapped his fingers, and then bent to retrieve a small saucepan. Setting it on the stove, he turned the burner to low and went to the pantry for chocolate. He broke the bar into pieces and added them to the pan, pouring in milk and a dash of vanilla and cinnamon. The early October nights were chilly. She’d appreciate his specialty hot chocolate to keep her warm.
Damn. His stomach cramped at the thought of where she must live. The cats knew these woods like their own names. If she was in a tent or a cabin, they’d know of it. And she was certainly nearby or she wouldn’t frequent the lodge for her necessities. He imagined her holing up in a cave or sleeping in the trees like fucking Katniss or something.
Eagan shook his head.
As adept as she was at stealing, she was probably fine. But he had to know for sure. This was the way.
He stirred the chocolate until it was smooth and steaming, and then he poured it into a foam cup. He added a dollop of whipped cream, another sprinkle of cinnamon, and then the lid.
There. Everything was perfect.
He cleaned up the new mess he’d made, jotted a note for his thief, took one last look at his work, and then forced himself out the door.
She’d come tonight. He knew it. The book was too important.
Chapter Six
Sneaking into the lodge this time seemed harder. Not because they’d added anymore security measures. In fact, Clara was pretty sure the cook hadn’t outed her. Leaving this morning had been too easy. Nobody even looked at her twice. She’d managed to find the lost and found without speaking to anybody. She’d just guessed it was behind the front counter and she’d rummaged through it early, when the lady who manned it was getting her coffee.
Her book was nowhere to be found. Which meant the cook kept it. Which meant she had to search the kitchen.
Maybe it seemed harder because this trip to the lodge wasn’t to fulfill her needs. It was to recoup something dear to her. And that she’d risk getting caught just to get it back.