“Hush!” Carla said, directing her words to both dog and girl. She drew her arm around Tara’s shoulder and held her still. “Does he have a gun?” she whispered as calmly as she could.
“I don’t know! I don’t think so, but he’s mean—”
“Quick—into my bedroom! There’s a lock on the door.” Carla herded her down the hallway, pushed her inside and drew the bolt across the door. She grabbed Boomer’s collar, holding him against one hip while drawing Tara to the other.
There was more banging and then the shattering of glass. Tara cringed, wishing she knew how to pray. It would be only a matter of seconds before he would be inside. Everything was tumbling down, down.
19
Clutching the bead ring and the coil of hair, Annie’s mind raced. Why had Tara done it … if she had? And why was she ready to assign blame to the girl without proof? And yet, Ian was right. Who else knew where to look? The attic hadn’t been torn apart. The thief had known exactly where the large originals were and had taken only them.
She reached for Ian’s hand when they stepped out the front door. Darkness had fallen over Grey Gables, and the woods beyond were shrouded in a black cloak. She was glad he was with her, and that she had said yes to dinner and his company. At least she hadn’t been alone to discover the theft of Gram’s beautiful canvases.
“We’ll take my car,” Ian said.
Just as they were about to get inside it, they heard a motor. Someone was coming up the driveway. “Look, Ian.” Annie stood frozen, watching as the truck approached and pulled to a stop. Wally hopped out.
“Evening, Annie,” he called, walking around to the back of his truck, smiling. “I hope it’s not too late, but I wanted to unload this lumber for the pantry. Got another load to bring in the morning …” His voice trailed off as he looked from one to the other, dark eyes puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
She stared into the familiar tanned face, the hair that seldom stayed in place, the quick, dark hands on the back of his pickup. Frozen, she was unable to respond.
“Someone got into Annie’s house,” Ian said, eyeing the bed of Wally’s truck. “Some of the Betsy Originals are gone.”
Wally said nothing. He put his hands slowly into his pockets. A look of hurt crept into his eyes.
Annie shook her head. It was ridiculous to suspect Wally. He wouldn’t steal a bottle cap. Besides, if he were guilty, he wouldn’t nonchalantly drive up to her door. “Wally, do you know where Tara is?”
He stared at her, and then at Ian and back again. He ran a hand over his unruly hair. “Tara?” he repeated.
“We think Tara may have taken them,” Ian said, “but someone had to—that is, she would have needed wheels, and …” He let the sentence drop.
“Oh, Wally, we know you wouldn’t do anything like this,” Annie broke in. “It’s just that …” But she didn’t know how to express the rush of disjointed thoughts leaping through her mind, and she hated the look that spread slowly over Wally’s face. Hurt, fear … what?
He seemed to be sorting out his thoughts, trying to comprehend what the two of them were thinking. He shifted his feet on the gravel and looked off toward the strip of forest behind them. He cleared his throat, swallowed. “I don’t know where Tara is,” he said slowly, “but there is something you should know—” Wally hung his head, shifted his feet once more. “I think she knows my brother Jem.”
Of course she knew him. They’d met at her place, Annie thought. Tara hadn’t liked him. She had seemed afraid of him. What could Wally be talking about?
“Jem is—he—uh …” Wally sucked in air, let it out in a rush. “I think he might be the one who took the money from the Gas N Go. And then the other day I was watching for birds, and I saw him with her.” His voice rose incrementally, and he brought his hand down hard on the pickup’s fender. Anger or frustration or shame replaced the hurt on his face.
Jem? The charming man who’d regaled them with stories about Stony Point and fishing as a boy? The one who called himself J.C. and had a flourishing real estate business? Wally’s brother, Jem? Annie was utterly perplexed.
Jem was with Tara. The accomplice Ian had suggested! Annie stared into Wally’s stricken face. She heard Ian expel a long breath. He’d want to head for the police station right now, and that’s probably what they should do. She felt the bead ring and the coil of hair still clutched in her left hand. What did it all mean? And what did Carla have to do with it?