She slipped off her backpack and called the mainland police number she’d stored in her phone after the break-in. The officer she reached dutifully listened to the information she gave him, but didn’t seem interested. “It was kids. It’s the Wild West out there on Peregrine, but I guess you already know that.”
“The kids are in school,” she replied, trying not to sound as impatient as she felt.
“Not today. The teachers from all the islands are on Monhegan for their winter conference. The kids have the day off.”
It was mildly comforting to think the shot might have come from a kid messing around with guns instead of an adult with a more sinister purpose. The officer promised he’d make inquiries the next time he came to the island. “If anything else happens,” he said, “you be sure to notify us.”
“Like if a bullet actually hits me?”
He chuckled. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, ma’am. The islanders are a rough bunch, but they don’t generally kill each other.”
“Dumbass,” she murmured, disconnecting as Theo led Dancer into the stable.
“What did I do this time?” Theo said.
“Not you. I called the mainland police.”
“I can imagine how well that conversation went.” He took Dancer into the only stall with bedding. Even though the stables weren’t heated, he tossed his jacket on a hook and began to unsaddle his horse. “You’re positive someone tried to shoot you?”
She rose from the bench. “You don’t believe me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Because I never believe what you tell me. She moved closer to Dancer’s stall. “I don’t suppose you found footprints? Or a bullet casing?”
He removed the saddle blanket. “Oh, yeah. With all the muck lying on the ground, that was the first thing I saw. A bullet casing.”
“You don’t have to be so sarcastic.” Since she was almost always sarcastic with him, she expected him to turn on her, but he only growled that she watched too many cop shows.
As he finished taking off Dancer’s tack, she gazed into the next stall, the one where she and Regan had found the pups. Now it held only a push broom, a stack of buckets, and bad memories. She looked away.
Eventually she stopped fidgeting and simply watched Theo work—those long even brushstrokes, the gentle touch of his fingers as he made sure he didn’t miss any burrs or mud clots, the way he’d stop what he was doing to scratch Dancer behind his ears and talk softly to him. His obvious care made her say something she instantly regretted. “I didn’t really think it was you.”
“Yeah, you probably did.” He set aside the brush and knelt down to check Dancer’s hooves. After he was assured that the horse hadn’t picked up any stones, he came out of the stall and turned those laser-focused eyes on her. “No more bullshit,” he said. “You need to tell me right now what’s going on.”
She pulled off her cap and ran it through her hands. “How am I supposed to know?”
“You know more than you’re letting on. You don’t trust me? Fine. But you’re going to have to get over that because right now I’m the only person you can trust.”
“That doesn’t exactly make sense.”
“Deal with it.”
It was time for a quick reminder. “When I came back to the island . . . The first time I saw you, you were carrying a gun.”
“An antique dueling pistol.”
“From your father’s gun collection.”
“That’s right. There’s a whole cabinet full of guns in the house. Shotguns, rifles, handguns.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “And I know how to fire every one of them.”
She shoved her hat in her pocket. “That makes me feel ever so much better.”
But, ironically, it did. If he truly wanted to kill her for some twisted reason only he knew, he would have done it by now. As for her legacy . . . He was a Harp, and she hadn’t seen any signs that he needed money.
Then why is he living on the island? Dilly asked. Unless he has no place else to go.
Just like you, Crumpet pointed out.
Annie suppressed the puppets’ voices. She might not like it—she didn’t like it—but right now Theo was the only one she could talk to.
Just the way it was when you were fifteen, Dilly said.
He curled his fingers over the stall door. “This has gotten out of hand. Tell me whatever it is you’re hiding.”
“It could have been a kid. The island teacher is at a conference, so there was no school today.”
“A kid? You think a kid tossed the cottage, too?”