“It wasn’t her fault!” Carla fumed. She smoothed her rumpled shirt with quick, angry strokes. “Now let’s go to the office where we can talk!” Carla grabbed hold of the dog’s collar. “Settle down, Boomer,” she ordered. “Come on, Tara—Mrs. Dawson.”
Annie and Tara followed meekly behind Carla who switched on the lights in the office, revealing the big round table with its clutter of papers and mugs. There was a computer and a file cabinet in one corner and an empty birdcage in another. Carla pulled out chairs, gesturing for them to sit.
“First thing you need to understand is that Tara tried to stop him. He forced his way into your house and made Tara get those canvases your grandmother made—those valuable ones we’ve all been hearing about.” Carla stood near the computer, and with hands on her ample hips she matter-of-factly outlined all that had happened. She might have been a CEO explaining a business plan to company managers. “Tara got the key to his van and took off with the goods. She left Mr. Smarty Pants in the dust out in the woods and came to me for help.”
Tara sat with her eyes on her lap, tears streaming down her cheeks. But Carla wasn’t through.
“She thought that no-account had left town and had given up his greedy little plan, but as it turns out …” Carla stopped for a breath. She sounded tough, but she looked shaken and pale. “She was afraid he’d follow her here, so she hid his vehicle behind the dog cages. She didn’t want anything to happen to your things, Annie.”
Annie listened with astonishment, especially when Carla revealed the reason why Tara had come to her—what the ring and the coil of hair were all about. It was an incredible story.
“Now, when our good mayor catches up with Mr. Jeremiah Carson, he’ll show him a thing or two!” Carla finished with a flourish.
Annie clutched her hands in her lap. That’s where Ian had gone! He’d gone after Jem; he was out there in the darkness. Dear God, she prayed silently. Help him, please!
20
Back at Grey Gables, Wally had watched Ian drive away with Annie beside him. He jammed his hands in his pockets, tearing the left one at the seam. He should have known! Jem hadn’t changed. The way he had snooped around Grey Gables, asking about who visited, what went on there, and passing himself off as some kind of big tycoon. Peggy thought he was right up there next to Donald Trump!
The times he’d come into town on foot, the rundown shoes, hair too long … all these should have been clues. But Wally hadn’t wanted to put it together. He wanted to believe Jem had made something of himself, but he was still looking for a quick buck, thinking only of himself. He hadn’t denied taking the money from the Gas N Go either. He had just shaken it off as though it was nothing. But it was something.
And that load of garbage about just happening to run into Tara by accident along the coast road. It hadn’t made sense to him then, but he’d let it go. He and Tara had probably planned the whole thing together. They’d both shown up around the same time. It was no coincidence.
Why had he not seen it? Did he need to be hit over the head with a two-by-four? Feeling sick, Wally climbed into his truck and put it in gear. Not sure what to do, he sped off in the direction Ian and Annie had gone. He had to tell them what he knew. He had to warn Annie about Jem and to help if he could.
It was darker than pitch along the road Ian had taken. Wally flipped on his high beams and headed in the same direction, hoping he wouldn’t blind some poor driver coming the other way. But the world seemed to be sleeping. He slowed as he neared the property Carla had purchased to house all her strays. The trees grew thicker, arching over the road until their leafy tips joined. Why were Annie and Ian going to the animal shelter?
And suddenly something caught his eye. Just beyond an abandoned shed with a caved-in roof he saw a van or part of a bus. He let off the gas and peered into the trees that surrounded around the vehicle. It was old and dilapidated with dents that had been sanded and patch-painted with an amateurish hand.
Wally gaped. It wasn’t a van or a bus, but some homemade rig. He’d seen it before—in Petersgrove!
He switched to low beams and pulled up behind it. The driver’s door stood open. Suddenly someone jumped out and stood squinting in the glare of headlights. Wally knew who it was even before he saw the familiar muscular frame and the dark hair curling on the collar of his blue silk shirt. But what was Jem doing at the animal shelter?
“You lost, Jem?” he asked, drawing alongside and propping an arm on the camper door.
After a deer-in-the-headlights stare, relief flooded the dark features. “Hey, bro! You’re a lifesaver.” Jem grasped his brother’s hand, sweat and fear palpable in his eyes. “Can’t get her started.” He glanced over his shoulder and then back again at Wally. “I need a lift.” He darted furtively toward the rear of his camper. “Got an important delivery to make.”