“How do you know, Sherlock?”
Cody opened the refrigerator. “Observe, Watson. The milk’s almost full, but past its expiration date. We passed a neighbor pulling his trash can off the street. Trash must have been picked up yesterday.” He sniffed. “Hers hasn’t been put out. I noticed mail sticking out of the mailbox outside too.”
“It looks like she just walked off. Why would she do that when she knew I was coming?”
“Did she have business that could have called her away?”
“She travels a lot, and she’s always meeting up with some new hot guy and taking off.”
“How about you?” Cody asked quietly. “Do you ever run off with some new hot guy?”
“No. That’s Renee’s thing, not mine.” Shay couldn’t even commit to a decent, honest, hot guy who wanted to marry her. What would she do with a new one? “She kept complaining about a new client who’s kept her busy. She didn’t like him.”
Cody stopped to look at a coat hanging on a rack by the door. He frowned. “You got a phone number for him?”
“No, the client database is separate for the shop in Scotland and this one.”
“What about her parents? Where are they?”
“Florida. They left right before I moved in with Renee. I’ll try them.”
“Let’s check her workroom, and then we can check the store. I’d like to see her files.”
“It isn’t locked,” Shay said as she opened the door.
Cody looked at pieces lying haphazardly around Renee’s workroom, mostly chairs and cans of varnish, brushes, and paint. “Looks like the place was trashed.”
“It always looks like this. The store’s neat, but this place is a mess. What are you doing?”
Cody had bent and was touching something on the floor. “Nothing.”
As she turned away, she saw him sniff his finger. What was he looking for? He moved about the room, padding lightly from spot to spot, stopping occasionally to examine something. His expression was intent, fully focused. There was something about the way he moved, a gracefulness that surrounded all those muscles, that left her in awe. He’d always had it, even when he was young. She’d tried to emulate it, but never got it right. “On to the shop?” she asked.
Cody nodded. Shay opened the back door, and they stepped inside.
“Nice,” Cody said, admiring an old sword on a shelf.
“We carry everything from furniture and tapestries to weapons and jewelry. If it’s old, we’re interested,” Shay said, closing a table drawer.
“I’ve got a friend you should meet,” he muttered.
They stepped farther into the shop, and the hair on Shay’s neck rose.
“Wait. Let me go first.” Cody put a hand over his chest and eased inside, not touching anything. He moved like a predator, eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows.
“The guy who broke in my shop smashed a table too.”
“You didn’t tell me that. Was anything else damaged?”
“Not that I know. The police didn’t mention anything. I wonder if it’s the same guy.”
“Who was he? A local guy?”
“I don’t know him. He had a strange name. Franklin or something. He claims it’s a mistake.”
“They all do.” Cody eased past the broken furniture. “We’ll call the police in Scotland. There must be some connection if the only things he messed with are the tables.”
“Maybe someone’s trying to hurt my business.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “This does feel personal, but I think it’s something else. Look at that table over there.” He pointed to a small end table. “It’s a simple design, one drawer, and it’s opened, just like the one near the back door. He’s looking for something.”
“What could he be looking for in both Leesburg and Scotland? We need to call the cops.”
“Quiet.” Cody tilted his head, listening. “Stay here. I want to look around outside.”
“No. I want to come.”
“I’ll just be a minute.”
He left, and the shadows crept into Shay’s mind, the footsteps, and evil whispers. Statues that moved. She started toward the sword, when a noise sounded in the back. She scurried toward the door Cody had left cracked. She slipped outside and saw him crouched near the side of the shop. Had he spotted someone? She crept up behind him and touched his back. He whirled, and she leapt back as the tip of his dagger pointed at her throat.
“Damn it!” he whispered harshly. Four ravens shot up from the trees.
“Ravens. Just birds,” she said, touching her neck. That blade had almost cut her throat.
“Do you ever listen? What are you doing out here?”
“I heard something. Those ravens, I guess.”
