familiar with the reference. I took the clue and ran my flashlight over the bookshelves until I found a volume of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I flipped it open and found the short story titled “A Scandal in Bohemia,” which featured Irene Adler, the only woman to outwit Sherlock Holmes. I riffled through it. Nothing. I crossed my fingers, replaced the book on the shelf, and pressed it firmly in.
A clicking noise shattered my blanket of suburban silence, and I jumped.
Realizing that I, myself, had caused the sound, I blew out a sigh and relaxed. Feeling along the wall, I found the uneven space where the bookshelf had popped away from the wall.
Pulling it back, I shined my flashlight into the newly revealed space.
One, two three. . . thirty boxes of files.
Ten boxes were missing.
Someone had been here.
And yet, the envelope with my name on it in the desk had been sealed. How could anyone else have known?
Visions of men in black going all Jack Bauer on Dr. Schaeffer flashed through my mind. Had he been tortured? Had he died a slow death?
I thought about that for a second, and then wished I hadn’t.
A high-pitched bark ripped my attention away from horrifying past and future possibilities into the even more horrifying present.
It was Lucy. Her bark was not one of idle boredom, or a mere shout-out to the neighborhood dogs barking in the distance. Its pitch was the one she reserved for neighbors trespassing on her sidewalk, or the mailman delivering the mail.
Someone was here.
I hastily pressed the bookshelf back into the wall, dumped everything back into the desk drawer, and slid it shut. Then I grabbed the envelope and piece of paper addressed to me. Confident I had left everything else as I found it, I ran to the back door, locked the doorknob lock from the inside, and slipped out.
Lucy had stopped barking. She must have scared away whoever was here.
I debated about whether or not to go back inside. Was it worth the risk of leaving and possibly losing the files? Or staying and risking the loss of something even worse. . . like my life?
Okay, reality check. Maybe somebody bad had been out to get Schaeffer, but I didn’t know anything worth killing over. Deep breath. The worst that could happen is that I might get caught breaking and entering, and then I’d just have to lawyer myself out of jail. No biggie. I could do that in my sleep. But it would take time, and that was a luxury I really didn’t have.
I decided to leave and come back later. I would park farther away and watch the house from a distance to make sure no one was there.
I left through the same door I’d come in, locking it again behind me. Then I slid into the driver’s seat of my car. Lucy hopped into my lap and started licking my face madly.
“Good dog,” I whispered. “You told ’em, didn’t you?”
I didn’t wait for her to settle down before sliding the key into the ignition and starting the car.I twisted my wrist with maximum force and jerked the car into reverse, pressing down on the gas pedal as hard as I dared.
In a few moments, I was out of the driveway and humming down the street.
Even though I kept manically checking my rearview mirrors, I saw no one. I took the long route home, driving through three different neighborhoods, out to the river and back before I satisfied myself that I wasn’t being followed.
When I got home, Detective Nash was waiting for me on my doorstep. Oy.
CHAPTER 8
I parked the car, grabbed Lucy, and walked toward him as nonchalantly as I possibly could.
“Is this a social call?” I asked.
He didn’t smile. His expression didn’t change.
“Put your dog inside and shut the door.”
I did, and let me tell you, Lucy wasn’t happy about it. She barked and whimpered up a storm. Apparently she was not a fan of the great Jensen Nash. I was starting to wonder who was. Apart from his amazing looks, he didn’t seem to have a lot of other appealing qualities.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” Nash said.
Whoa. “Wait a minute,” I said.
Nash fingered his handcuffs. “You have the right to remain silent.”
“About what?” I demanded.
“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
I didn’t turn around. “I’m familiar with my rights,” I said. “I waive them because I haven’t done anything wrong.”