On Friday, a week and a half after Lillian’s dinner, the library opened its doors. Well, door. Upstairs in the municipal building.
Kneeling beside the shelves in the children’s section, Audrey sighed in pleasure. It didn’t matter if the library was merely a big room of book stacks and a tiny office behind the checkout desk.
The essentials were here.
The computer section—a table with three computers. The research section—a few tables with folding chairs. A children’s area holding tiny tables for children with bigger chairs for mothers. Armchairs near the periodical racks for quiet reading.
Speaking of which, she needed to get the periodical subscriptions restarted.
Yes, the library was small. But it was hers.
She’d never felt so pleased or so possessive about any library she’d worked in before.
The entire town had helped her get it open—especially Gabe.
She shook her head. He was driving her crazy. Seriously crazy.
He’d run upstairs with coffee and her favorite cookies or pastries, then stay and simply talk. Like friends. About fishing and hiking, about some of the police work he’d done that day, although he never gave her names or specifics. They’d talk about whatever work she was doing for a client.
She knew he wanted her—and wasn’t that simply amazing?—yet, he smothered his desire enough that she never felt pressured. He didn’t ask her out or try to see her anywhere but in public.
The jerk. Now, she was past ready to knock him over the head and rip all his clothes off.
Ah, well. She was the one who’d said no to him more than once. It was up to her to change that to yes.
Why did the world have to be so complicated?
For now, though, it was opening day at the library.
Two people were already at the computers. Three were browsing the stacks.
Behind Audrey in the children’s section, Sarah sat in an oversized armchair with her daughter on her lap, reading a book the girl had chosen.
Audrey grinned as she found the book she’d been looking for—The Cat in the Hat.
Still on her knees, she turned and handed over the book. “You might try this one. It’s perfect for someone who can sound out short words.”
“I had this when I was a child,” Sarah said. Her eyes filled.
“Sarah?”
“I’m all right.” The coffee shop owner wiped the tears away. “Just hormones. And happiness. You see, Rachel won’t be an only child in a few more months.”
Aww. “Congratulations. And congratulations to you, too, Rachel.”
The little girl wiggled in delight. “I’m going to be a big sister. And we have to pick out names, boy and girl names, just the right ones. What’s your name?”
“Audr—” God, what was she saying? “Uh, Julie. My name is Julie.” Turning, she pushed to her feet—and realized that Gabe and the other law enforcement officer stood on the other side of the hip-high bookshelves.
From the narrowing of Chief MacNair’s eyes, the two men had heard her slip-up.
Eff-it-all.
Her name started with Audr. Gabe smiled, enjoying the dismayed expression on “Julie’s” face. Nice of her to give him a clue.
“Good day, gentlemen,” she greeted politely…and fled toward the back.
Poor lost sweetheart. Now, what could the rest of her name be? He’d known a girl named Audra. Audre, maybe? Audria, Audris. No, probably just Audrey. It suited her quiet nature far more than the name Julie. Audrey. Yeah.
“Sounds as if she’s using an assumed name.” Baumer frowned after her.
“Maybe. She sure wouldn’t be the first person in Alaska to leave her past behind. Or maybe she’s a woman who likes to switch it up now and then. My ex went through a spate of spelling her name in different ways.” Gabe half-grinned. “Got so I never knew what to use when I left her a note.”
Baumer snickered. “Women. They can’t—”
“What are you doing?” Filled with anger, Julie’s voice echoed off the walls. “Stop!”
What the hell? Gabe stepped around Baumer and headed for the back in time to spot Knox heading toward the exit. “Hold up there, Knox.”
The man realized he was caught and stopped. He spotted Julie, and his shoulders actually slumped.
“You.” Her flushed face held an impressive fury. “What were you thinking? How could you do that to a book?” She sounded like a priest seeing someone spit on the altar.
“What’d he do?” Gabe interposed himself between Knox and the door.
“He was ripping pages out of books. I found two more that he destroyed. Why?” The last word was practically a wail.
Knox stared as if shocked by her anger and distress. He shuffled his feet before throwing his shoulders back. “Don’t want a liberry here. No need for it. It’s a waste of my tax money to buy a bunch of useless stories.”
“A library has more than just stories. The books help you decide where to go on vacation or how to start a business. You can come here to use the internet, read newspapers, and borrow movies and audiobooks. A library serves everyone in the community.” The way her eyes lit with passion, Gabe knew this was her place. Her niche.
“It doesn’t serve me.” Knox’s gaze caught on something behind Gabe, and he flinched. “Nobody asked me if I wanted a liberry.”
Gabe turned to glance over his shoulder. A teen and an older man sat at the computers. Baumer stood behind the teen, looking at the display.
Breaking into Knox’s rant, Gabe said quietly, “You gave me your word.”
The words stopped Knox as thoroughly as if Gabe’d swung a 2x4. The man’s face turned the red of his hair. “I did. I just…just got mad. Payin’ out good money for something I can’t even—”
His abrupt stop left Gabe confused, but Julie’s expression filled with comprehension and, then, sympathy. She stepped closer to Knox, her voice low. “You can’t read.”
“I can, too.” Knox glared…and deflated. “I can’t. Can’t even fake it anymore now my wife’s gone.”
Well, hell. Gabe frowned. Sending the man to prison wouldn’t solve anything. But Knox had broken his word and—”
“I’ll pay for the books I ruined,” Knox said.
“Yes,” Julie said firmly. “And you’ll meet with me here for two hours twice a week.”
Knox gaped. “For how long?”
“Until you’ve learned to read.”
When hope lit in Knox’s eyes, Gabe knew the librarian had won.
A few minutes later, Gabe headed downstairs to the police station.
Baumer followed him. “That’s a pretty woman. The librarian, I mean.”
“She is.” Beautiful. Brilliant. And, unloved as a child. Her mother hadn’t let her read fiction. He still had problems with that. Maybe because novels had been essential to surviving the long Alaska winters in Mako’s cabin.
Gabe nodded to Regina as they walked toward her receptionist desk.
“One call, Chief.” The woman held out a post-it note. “All quiet.”
“Good to hear. Thank you.”
As they walked past and through the station door, Baumer persisted. “Do you and the pretty librarian have something going on? Seems like I’ve heard rumors…”
Jesus, was this the price of living in a small town?
At Gabe’s irritated stare, Baumer held up his hands. “Just asking. I wouldn’t want to arrest your girlfriend or anything.”
“Why the fuck would you arrest Julie?”
“You know—fake name. No one knows where she came from. She never talks about her past or anything.” Baumer shrugged. “I’m just a suspicious guy, and you gotta admit, women are devious.”
“Sounds as if you’ve been burned a time or two.”
“Shit, my first wife was a real feminazi and screwed around on me after the second month we were married. That burns, man, you know?”
All too familiar. Gabe poured himself a cup from the coffee he’d made that morning. Black as sin, but better than nothing. “I know. When I got deployed, my wife figured our vows went on leave.” It’d hurt that while he’d been risking his life for the country—and being faithful despite temptation—she was screwing any soldier-boy she picked up at the bar. It’d been an ugly divorce.
Baumer nodded. “You get it.”
Nonetheless, deciding a person couldn’t be trusted because of his or her gender, race, religion, or what-the-fuck-ever was purely stupid. “Julie hasn’t done anything illegal here, and she’s from Chicago. Nothing suspicious about that. She’s sure not the first person to come to Alaska for a fresh start and to leave the past behind.”
“Maybe.” Baumer’s mouth twisted. “With the trouble we’re having here, seems like we need to be careful. For all we know, she’s wanted for something—and has access to this building.”
“Only during the hours the building is open and when Regina is here. Our budget doesn’t extend to heating the place for the library alone.”
“Oh. Yeah, okay. Guess that’s different.”
“But you’re not convinced.”
Baumer scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “She sets my instincts off, and I worry that you’re not looking past a pair of breasts, boss.”
Baumer was a cop; cops listened to their instincts. But Gabe hadn’t been led around by his dick since he was in his teens. Hell, after a disaster or two, most guys figured out that the little head didn’t have much for brains.
And he was done with this conversation. “Since your shift has started, let’s have our meeting. I want to talk with you about my expectations for patrolling.” Because the officer wasn’t coming up to snuff.
Gabe led the way into his office and turned the conversation to problems going on in town and law enforcement talk.