Page 63 of The Summer that Changed Everything
Ford propped his hands on his hips as he stared at the mirror in Lucy’s bathroom. When she’d texted to tell him someone had broken into the cottage, he’d called the police while rushing out of his house, but no one had arrived. He suspected Claxton was behind the delay, that the chief of police was trying to teach them both that it was smarter to cooperate with him than to cross him.
Just the possibility that he could be holding up help made Ford furious. Someone had been killed fifteen years ago! This could be serious.
Or did Claxton have reason to believe it was merely a scare tactic? Because that was what it felt like. If someone truly wanted to hurt Lucy, they wouldn’t have come in, messed up a few things, written an ominous message on the mirror and left. The whole mirror thing was almost a cliché.
“What do you think?” she asked, standing beside him. “Was it really someone who doesn’t know the difference between‘your’ and ‘you are’? Or was it someonepretendingto be uneducated?”
He thought of how belligerent Reggie had been at the duplex earlier. Surely, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to break into the house where Lucy was staying. He had to know he’d be the first person they’d suspect...
“Ford?” she prompted when he didn’t answer.
He met her gaze in the mirror. “Reggie probably isn’t the smartest guy in the world, but I can’t imagine he’d do this. It’s too obvious.” He tilted his head slightly to one side as another thought occurred to him. “Unless...”
“Unless...” she echoed.
“Maybe he’s not worried about getting caught. Maybe Chief Claxton ‘suggested’ something like this. Reggie would certainly do it if he thought the police would turn a blind eye.”
Her mouth fell open. “You thinkClaxtonmight be behind it? That he’s... corrupt?”
“He may not view it as ‘corrupt.’ If he knows you’re not really in danger he might not think too much about it, especially if it gets you to back off and return to Vegas. Then the past stays in the past, and the problem is solved.” He gestured for her to follow him as he walked back through the house. “I mean... look at this. Other than the shattered window and a little ruined makeup, whoever broke in didn’t even do much damage.”
“He or she didn’t take anything, either,” she commented.
“Exactly my point.” The rest of the house had been untouched, even though whoever it was had obviously left through the living room. The front door was standing open, yet Lucy claimed she hadn’t so much as touched it since she arrived.
“Would Claxton trust Reggie enough to suggest such a thing, though?” she asked. “If he was going to allow it, why not just do it himself? Then he wouldn’t run the risk of Reggie ever blabbing.”
“I could see him having Reggie do the dirty work, just incase you came home and interrupted what was going on. But it could’ve been Claxton. He was incensed when he left. He carries the type of tools that would make it easy to break a window without getting cut. We both know he was in the area around the time this must’ve happened—he could’ve come here right after.”
“And no one would ever suspect him. Not only that but his police scanner would allow him to keep track of the calls that came in, so he’d know if someone reported any suspicious activity at the Smoot cottage.”
“He might evenwantus to wonder if it was him,” Ford mused. “That would be frightening in a different way, but it could easily achieve the same goal.”
She shook her head. “That’s messed up.”
He tested the lock on the front door. It still worked, didn’t look as if it’d been tampered with, which went along with his first assumption that after coming in the window the intruder had gone out the front. The fact that he hadn’t even taken the time to close the door suggested—to Ford, at least—that he’d wanted Lucy to see something wasn’t right from the outset.
“I agree.” He left the door open again because he felt the police had to arrive sooner or later and he wanted to know when they did. “But my guess is he feels justified—that he thinks you deserve this since we won’t listen to him.”
“Because, of course, he can’t conceive of being wrong, which makes him right,” she said facetiously. She went into the kitchen and stood at the window, looking out at the front yard. “But my car’s there. You’d think seeing my vehicle in the drive would’ve given him or whoever it was pause.”
“Not necessarily.” He circled the room just to make sure there really hadn’t been any other damage. “All anyone would’ve had to do to determine that you weren’t home was ring the doorbell a few times. And if itwasChief Claxton and he got caught breaking in, he could always say he did it because he thought you might be hurt or in distress.”
“It would be easy for a man in his position to get away with something like this,” she agreed.
“Tooeasy. I’m glad you’ll be staying at my place from now on.” His phone went off. Assuming the police were finally responding, at least in some way, he pulled his cell out of his pocket. But it wasn’t the police; it was the investigator. “It’s Friedman,” he told Lucy and put the call on Speaker.
“Hey, Les,” he said. “I’ve got Lucy here with me. She can hear you, too.”
“Good,” Friedman responded. “Because I have some questions for both of you.”
“We were hoping you’d have some answers,” Ford said wryly.
“With any luck my questions will lead to answers.”
“What’s up?” Lucy asked.
“I’ve been reading the case files on the Matteo murders, and there’s something wrong.”
