Shattered Haven. Carol J. Post

too.” His gaze swept the length of the hull and came to rest on some simple turquoise script. “Tranquility. Very fitting name. She’s beautiful.”

      She looked up from her chores and flashed him a smile. “Thanks.”

      He watched her while she finished her end-of-the-day routine. “I’m going to be heading out to take Brinks for a walk, but I can take a different route. I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you.”

      “That’s all right. The company’s kind of nice.” She stepped off the boat and grinned up at him. “I’ll let you know when I get tired of you.”

      He started down the dock next to her. “Do you have any charters tomorrow?”

      “No. I try to take Sundays off. At least Sunday mornings.”

      “It’s nice to sleep in every so often.”

      A gust of wind swept through and whipped her hair into her face. Several strands had come loose from the braid during her time on the water. She reached up to tuck them behind her ear.

      “Actually, that’s not it. I’m an early riser. Can’t sleep past sunup regardless. But Sunday morning I’m usually in church, singing in the worship ensemble.”

      “You sail and you sing. Any other talents I don’t know about?”

      “No, that’s pretty much it. My parents tried piano lessons, too, but I didn’t take to them like the voice lessons.”

      He nodded. Somehow the singing didn’t surprise him. Her voice held an almost mesmerizing quality, a smooth, low timbre that slid over him like fine silk.

      “If you’d like to go, I’ll be happy to pick you up.”

      Church? He hadn’t been since age sixteen, when he decided he didn’t need some stuffy old man in a robe telling him how to live his life. “I’ll have to pass. I’ve got some things to do.” He wasn’t sure what, but he’d think of something.

      When they reached her house, he walked with her to the door, where she stopped to give Brinks some brisk scratches on the neck and throat. Her eyes sparkled, the uneasiness he had seen yesterday gone. Finally, she straightened to give him a parting smile.

      “I’ll see you around.”

      As soon as she had unlocked and opened the door, he turned to head back to the street. But her startled gasp stopped him midstride. He spun toward her, and his stomach went into a free fall. Her face was three shades lighter than it had been moments ago, and her eyes were wide with fear.

      He took two quick steps forward. “What is it?”

      “Someone’s been in the house.”

      “Are you sure?” He stepped past her into the foyer and immediately answered his own question. The top had been removed from the first stair post and was lying on the foyer floor. To the right, an open double doorway framed scattered brocade pillows. A roll of what looked like house plans had been slung against a sofa leg. Dog-eared pages curled into haphazard rolls on the polished oak floor, partially hidden by one of the sofa seat cushions.

      He turned toward Allison, a sense of protectiveness surging up inside him. He couldn’t help it. It was his police training. Once a cop, always a cop. Being unable to do the job didn’t take away those instincts.

      Allison stood in the doorway, phone in hand, calling nine-one-one. He stepped back outside, and within minutes, a Cedar Key police cruiser stopped at the curb, siren silenced. The lights remained flashing. It was Hunter, the same cop who had cuffed him early yesterday morning. The officer’s eyes shifted from him to Allison and then back to him. The question in his gaze was probably about more than just the call.

      Hunter stepped onto the porch and addressed Allison. “Another break-in?”

      “Seems that way. Maybe it’s time I install an alarm.”

      Blake looked at her sharply. “You don’t have one? I thought you said you did.” In fact, he knew that was what she had said. Early yesterday morning, when Hunter had him pinned against the cruiser.

      A grin climbed up her cheeks. “I didn’t say I had an alarm. I just said I wouldn’t forget to set it.”

      He matched her smile with one of his own. “You just wanted me to think you had one.”

      “I figured it wouldn’t hurt. Just in case.” She motioned Hunter inside. “I don’t know how bad it is. I didn’t go past the front doorway.”

      Blake started to follow, then hesitated. It wasn’t his case. He wasn’t even a cop anymore. He was a civilian getting ready to walk into a woman’s house uninvited. He cast a glance at Allison. “Is it all right if I go in?”

      “Sure. Another set of trained eyes can’t hurt.”

      Hunter stopped in the doorway of the living room. “Since all the cushions are off the furniture, I’m guessing he was looking for something.” He made a slow circle through the room, then pointed at the floor. “Are those house plans?”

      “Yeah.” Allison led him back into the foyer. “The night after the first break-in, I noticed that this finial was crooked. Then I discovered the post is hollow. The house plans were inside.” She started to rest her hand on top of the newel post, then drew back. She wouldn’t touch anything until after they finished investigating.

      Hunter nodded. “They sometimes did that with these old Victorians, hid the house plans in a secret compartment in the newel post.”

      Blake raised his brows. That was an interesting tidbit.

      Allison was apparently as intrigued as he was. “You’ve heard of this?”

      Hunter flashed her a sheepish smile. “My little sister went through a stage where she was nuts over any and all things Victorian. She collected trinkets, played dress-up in period clothes and read everything she could get her hands on. And I learned all kinds of worthless information that I’ll probably never use, because she never shut up about it.”

      She returned his smile. “Well, it didn’t turn out to be totally worthless, because you just taught me something. Now when I go into a Victorian house, I’ll always wonder what might be hidden in the newel post.” She chewed her lower lip, suddenly serious. “If the intruder was hoping for treasure, he probably wasn’t too happy to find nothing but a roll of old house plans.”

      Which means he might be back. She didn’t finish the sentence aloud, but she was thinking it. It was all there in her eyes. The fear and uncertainty.

      Hunter stroked his chin with a thumb and forefinger, deep in thought. “Seems if he was just hoping for something in the newel post, he wouldn’t have searched any further. It’s as if he knew exactly what he was looking for.”

      He moved across the foyer toward the den. When he pushed open one of the double doors, Allison drew in a sharp breath. Blake looked over Hunter’s shoulder and understood. It looked as if every file had been removed from the file cabinet, the contents emptied.

      “Whoa.” Hunter turned to face her. “I’d say he was pretty determined to find something.”

      Allison didn’t respond. Blake studied her. Maybe she was just dazed. But something told him she knew more than she was telling them.

      Hunter continued his walk through the house, getting an overview before the real investigation started. When he swung open one of two mahogany doors next to the kitchen, a low whistle escaped his mouth. Blake stepped into the room, and the dusty scent of old books wrapped around him, mixed with the smell of varnish.

      It was a library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined three walls. But they were all empty. Teetering piles of books lay on the two stuffed chairs and all over the floor. There were dozens of them, maybe hundreds.

      “This is a pretty impressive library you have here.”

      Allison