The sun came out Thursday morning for a while, then clouds moved back in during the night. The temperature hovered around twenty degrees, making the heat and glow from the fireplace especially welcome.
Having decided that another day’s rest would be good for her, especially in view of the bad weather, she tried to call Doctor Arnold. Again, it went directly to voicemail. And he hadn’t once tried to get in touch with her. She knew for a fact that he’d not left any messages since she could access the voice mail in the office from home.
The mug of hot chocolate warmed her inside and out, as she wrapped her hands around it. Sheriff Otis, sitting across from her, took a swallow of his, too. She’d given him the largest mug in her cupboard and still his hands dwarfed it. The overstuffed chair, however, looked as if it was made for someone of his size, unlike the office chair in the archives.
He set his mug on the small table beside the chair, using the coaster she kept there. He looked from the front door to the fireplace, then at her.
“Why didn’t you call me yesterday afternoon?”
“All I could think of was getting warm. I still feel chilled deep down inside.”
“You haven’t told me how you got back inside.”
“Otis, I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“So, someone else got you inside?”
“I can’t say.”
“Musta been George, the mailman.”
“You know about him?”
“Of course. He’s helped us several times. Everyone in town knows he was once a locksmith”
“Then why …”
“I guess he thinks it lends him an air of mystery. There isn’t an ounce of larceny in him, though.”
“Well, he certainly saved my life.”
“Probably. You couldn’t have survived staying out in that weather very long.”
“It turned out the back door was unlocked. I could have gotten in there, but I thought it was locked. You did see the footprints in back, though,” she said, bringing the conversation back to the purpose of his visit. In daylight, they were plain to see in the earth made soft and mushy by the rain.
“Yeah. They led to the back fence. Kent is following them from the fence to see where they lead. I suspect they curve around and come out down the street somewhere. Did you see any strange cars on the street?”
“Not last night. There was a car I didn’t recognize one night last week. Very late. The night it got really windy. One of my plants out on the porch was turned over.”
“Anything you would recognize again?”
“No. It was very late and very dark. The car was dark, too. I thought I saw someone inside of it, but …” she shrugged.
He emptied his cup and looked over at her. “Thanks for the hot chocolate.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ve been thinking that maybe you should quit looking into the Blair business. I didn’t want to make it an official inquiry yet, but it looks like that was a mistake. You may have alerted them to the fact that someone’s looking into things. And they think it’s you. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he added quickly as she started to protest. “Still, someone somewhere found out enough to make them nervous and come after you.”
“Then you do believe that the two incidents are related and deliberate?”
“One accident I can believe. Two in just a few days — too much coincidence.”
His cell phone rang and while he talked to whomever was calling, Sydney took the mugs into the kitchen and rinsed them. She caught enough of Otis’s side of the conversation to believe he was talking to one of his deputies. She went back into the living room when she was sure that the call was done.
“Looks like I was right,” he said as she sat down. “The tracks went to the west a ways, then doubled back to the next street. Whoever it was walked between two houses down there and probably to a waiting car. No way to tell on the pavement where he might have parked.”
She nodded. This was apparently an attempt on her life, along with the poisoning, or at least a warning. It didn’t really make much sense. She knew so little about any Blair secrets, so far, mostly because there was little to be found. The Internet produced little information. Most of what she knew was from the collection. The collection!
“Otis, can you have one of your deputies check the archives. If someone is so desperate they’ll come after me, why wouldn’t they also try to get the papers?”
He made the call on his cell phone, telling Kent to drive over to the archives and see how things looked. The call came back in less than fifteen minutes. The doors were locked and the blinds all down. No sign of illegal entry or damage.
“All of the blinds?” she said. Otis asked, then nodded. “The blinds in the break room shouldn’t be down. Can you take me?” It was Friday afternoon and snow was predicted later in the evening. The roads were already bad, icy in places, especially in her neighborhood.
“Sure. Probably a good idea.”
“Give me a moment.”
She went into the bedroom, closing the door, and changed into warmer clothes. She dug out her fluffy boots, got her coat and scarf out of the coat closet in the living room. Grabbing up her purse and making sure the keys were in there, she was ready. The blinds in the break room were never lowered. There had never seemed any need, and the sunlight coming through the window — when there was sunlight — made the small room cheery.
In good weather, you could get anywhere in Gansel in fifteen minutes. With bad road conditions, it took twenty-five. How deputy Kent had made it so quickly was anyone’s guess. Although Otis’s four-wheel drive vehicle had good traction, the going was slow. The roads were even worse than they said on the radio, and as they traversed the nearly empty streets, snow flurries powdered the windshield.
Otis parked the SUV on the wrong side of the street in front of the archives as the side walk were partially cleared. They’d been salted, but it was too cold for that to work yet. The deputy stood at the door, his vehicle parked across the street. She inserted the key in the dead bolt first. It wasn’t locked, but the lock on the doorknob was. She turned the key in the doorknob and opened the door. Otis pushed past her and she followed to enter the code on the alarm control pad on the wall just inside.
The entrance was just as she’d left it a week ago. When they turned the corner to the left, looking into the stacks, all was a blur of papers and boxes.
Some boxes lay upside down with papers spread on the floor. Some rested on the edges of the shelves, papers hanging out and scattered across the floor. Several box lids lay about.
“I thought the alarm system was updated,” Otis said.
“I thought so, too.”
She turned from the mess and selected another key on the ring to unlock the door to her office. Nothing was amiss there. Putting her bag down, she shed the coat, gloves and hat, and made her way toward the stairs. She turned into the utility room to check the alarm panel and pressed the button for the readout on the screen. It showed that the electricity went out last night, and the backup power was activated. Any other information would have to come from the security company’s computers.
She went back to the stairs and climbed to the second floor. The light switch was at the top of the stairs and she flipped it up. The main lights were rather dim, giving just enough illumination for a person to move from the stairwell into the hall without bumping into anything, although there was nothing in the way to bump into. Otis followed at a respectful distance as she went into the stacks to the left then to the right, flipping on more lights as she went. All was well, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The burglars somehow knew or figured out that all of the boxes of the Blair collection were together on the first floor. That could mean they knew how archives were organized, or at least knew how this one was.
“Did that alarm control tell you if the intruders tried any other door or window?”
She nodded. “No, only that the front door was opened.”
“We need to get Kent back in here to check for fingerprints.”
They went back downstairs and he stepped outside for the one person in the sheriff’s office who was qualified with the fingerprint kit. The deputy grabbed the kit from the back of his SUV and started at the front door. Sydney felt sure that there would be few prints to eliminate. Her prints were in the database, as were those of everyone who worked in the archives, either part time, or, like the alarm installer, through their employer. While they waited she considered calling Doctor Arnold to let him know what was going on.
Suddenly, she wanted to call Ben. He would understand her frustration, and would be upset about the break-in at her house. Part of her didn’t want to upset him, so far from the scene, as it were. Another part of her didn’t want to listen to him telling her how to solve the various issues all of this raised: she needed a safer house; she should move out to California; he should move back to Oklahoma.
Kent quickly finished the task at hand. Fingerprints of all kinds would be on so many things within the archives that he only took those on the door knob, the edge of the door, and the shelving where the boxes were stored. He finished, and the lights were turned out and the doors were locked. They all stepped out onto the sidewalk. Sydney didn’t argue when he said he would take her home. The archives were, once more, a crime scene and the police would be checking everything.
They climbed into his SUV. It took longer to get back to her house as the snow was accumulating on top of the ice that had melted very little. They didn’t talk much as hedrove, each trying to make sense of what was happening.
Her thoughts were confused. She almost never acknowledged the need for help or comfort from others. Not since Leo died. Her husband was a caring man with whom she’d had a very close relationship. They knew each other’s thoughts and feelings. They had anticipated what was needed in moments of crisis or stress.
When he died, she had no one to help, or even to listen. She had believed their friends would be there for her, but she ended up alone with no one to lean on. Eventually she stopped relying on anyone but herself. Not wanting to bother others with her problems, was how she thought of it. Yet now, faced with one of the greatest crises of her life, she did not want to be alone to handle it by herself. She’d already considered calling Julia instead. But it was Ben she needed. She blamed this weakness on having been so ill with the poisoning, and being trapped out in the weather that must have weakened her further.
Reaching her house, Otis walked her to the door, made sure she got inside safely, then left. She’d wanted to shout, “Don’t leave!” Instead, she closed and locked the door. She resisted the urge to close all of the shades and blinds. She liked the house bright and airy; even though it was still snowing outside, and the sky was grey, the house was brighter with everything open. Yet, it no longer felt as if it was the sanctuary it once was, as if whoever was after her could and would stand outside and watch her through the windows and get in any time they wanted.
She shivered as she took off her coat and boots, leaving them on the rug inside the door to dry. Her life wasn’t going to change to accommodate the fear they were trying to instill in her. So, the shades and blinds stayed up, snowflakes drifting to the ground in slow motion on the other side of the glass.
The coffee maker was still on and she poured a cup with lots of honey and cream. Then she sat at the kitchen table, trying to puzzle out what was happening and her feelings. Nothing made any sense at all at that moment and she gave up and picked up the phone.
Before she dialed the number, she realized that the message light was blinking. Ben called while she was out with Otis. His voice was bright and cheerful.
“Hey Beautiful. Sorry I missed your call. I forgot my phone at home when I went to meet a client. I guess you’re at work, but I won’t try to call you there. Plus, I’m fixin’ to go to another meeting in just a few minutes. Give me a holler tonight after you get home.”
She slammed down the handset. Why couldn’t he be there when she needed him? It was hard enough to admit that need, that she couldn’t, or didn’t want to handle the situation all by herself.
Her hand shook as she punched in his phone number. A deep breath brought the beginnings of calm. Realization was beginning to seep in that she was frightened, not only by the attacks, but by the break-in at the archives, and by this sudden need for comfort from someone. She started to hang up, then heard the first ring of the phone.
Maybe he wouldn’t be able to answer.
“Hello.”
“Ben. Hi.”
“Good afternoon. What’s up?”
“Do you have time to talk? Things are happening here.”
“What kind of things?”
His voice lowered a bit, as if he had sat up abruptly and was now fully focused on her.
She told him about being locked out of the house and calling Otis. He made only short comments as she continued telling him about Otis coming when she called him and their rush to the archives. In spite of herself, she got choked up when she described what they found there.
When she stopped, there was a moment of silence. “Damn!” he said. “I had no idea being an archivist was so dangerous. I’ll bet you never did either.”
His words brought a slight smile and lifted the tension from around her heart. She’d heard that before
“That’s true.”
“I think I should come back there. My being with you might discourage some of these … what? Attacks? Are they trying to hurt you? Or are they just trying to discourage you? To frighten you?” She noticed he didn’t say “murder,” or “kill.”
“I don’t know. But they are frightening me. Even if they didn’t mean to kill me, there was a chance I could be dead.”
They discussed the situation, first emotionally, then settling into a more reasoned consideration of what they knew. They deduced from the facts, guessed at motives, for more than half an hour. The most puzzling thing of all was how someone put pokeweed in the lasagna. That might be explained by the fire in the kitchen as a distraction, but there was no way to know. However it was arranged, it was premeditated. In the end, she felt exhausted and knew they were no nearer to solving the mystery than when they started. A calmness settled over her, though.
“I know what you should do,” he said finally.
“What’s that?” She wasn’t at all sure what he was going to say.
“Well, two choices. First, you move out here with me and find a safer archive in which to work. Or, two, you at least move into a more solid house that would be more secure.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, I am not joking. At least think about it.” When she didn’t say anything he went on. “Look, this is the second time you’ve been in danger because of something in that archive. It’s not normal.”
“I’ve been working here for four years and nothing happened until last year.”
“Yeah, but now things are happening. And you’re probably getting some sort of reputation that makes people think you’re a risk to them and their secrets. Your boss probably isn’t too happy about all this either.”
Doctor Arnold wouldn’t be happy once he knew the whole story up to this point. She still needed to talk to him, but she’d wait until he finally called her back. If he ever did.
She told him she hadn’t been able to get in touch with Arnold. As they went on discussing events, she and Ben didn’t exactly argue, but they certainly disagreed. All of her life she’d moved from one place to another. The conversation made her realize that in Oklahoma, she had finally put down roots. In spite of everything, she not only didn’t want to move again, she didn’t want to leave Oklahoma, even with all its problems. The state’s history was fascinating, including the lives of those whose papers were under her stewardship.
They hung up with her agreeing to think about what he’d suggested. Buying a safer house wasn’t a bad idea and she was going to give that some serious thought. Trouble was, Gansel didn’t have much in the way of newer homes and few new homes were being built. She’d always felt it was a bit far from the main urban centers to be a bedroom community, especially with other towns between it and Tulsa, Oklahoma City, even Stillwater. Yet, there were two newer communities in the county. One was even gated.
The thought of Tulsa reminded her that she still wanted to get to the birth records in Ponca City and in Newkirk to see if she could find anything on either the elder Grayson’s wedding, or birth records for Grayson, Jr.
The one thought Ben brought to her mind was how people who donated collections to the archives might view all of this. Would they see her as a threat, or worse still, would they be worried about what those papers might reveal.