Chapter 29

Samuel’s voice echoed from the basement of the drugstore. “I want you to box up all these records, Mack. We’re going to need copies of everything.”

Laurie edged down the steep stairs, digging her fingernails into the wooden railing. The dank smell of cool underground wafted upwards, giving her an overwhelming sensation of descending into a dungeon.

Halfway down, she paused. “Samuel?” The sound of boxes being dragged and drawers being opened and banged shut made her shiver. He’s going to be furious that I’ve wasted his time.

The sounds quieted and footsteps approached. Samuel appeared out of the back room, a quizzical expression on his face. “Laurie? You do show up in the oddest of places.”

“I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Samuel hesitated for a moment before turning and speaking over his shoulder. “Keep at it. I’ll be right back.” He followed her up the steep stairway and out the back door into the alley.

She took a deep breath of the fresh air, thankful for the slice of sun peeping through between the brick buildings.

“So, what’s this about? We’re in a bit of a hurry.” Samuel brushed a cobweb off his sleeve.

Laurie forced herself to speak the words that weighed on her heart. “I made a mistake. Daniel’s not a rumrunner. I jumped to that conclusion because of some faulty information.” She watched as Samuel’s face hardened. Her stomach tightened in response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble—but you need to let him go.”

“I can’t do that.”

Fingers of tension inched their way up her neck. “You must. You arrested him because of what I said and I’m telling you, I was wrong.”

A smile toyed at the corners of his lips. “I couldn’t have arrested him on just your word, Beautiful. You just put the nail in his coffin, so to speak.” He turned and faced away from her, staring at the backside of the drugstore. “So what changed your mind? Did someone threaten you?”

“I simply made a mistake.”

“You seemed pretty certain last night.” He took a step closer to her, reaching a hand out and touching her arm.

She locked her knees, preventing herself from stepping back. “I just realized I was wrong. It couldn’t be Daniel. He’s an honest man—he doesn’t even drink.”

“He doesn’t?” The corner of his mouth turned upward. “Who told you that? Him?”

“Does it matter?”

He narrowed his eyes. He slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

A shudder passed through her body. More what?

“Maybe we need to talk about some other names.”

“I’ll tell you what”—Laurie hugged her sweater to her chest—“I’ll make more of an effort at the switchboard. I think if I’m careful, I might be able to find you the information you want.”

A light appeared in Samuel’s eyes. “Even if you don’t like what you hear?”

Laurie nodded, digging a fingernail into her palm under the cover of the sweater. As long as I can find some way to keep my brother’s name out of it.

“Good. It’s a deal.” He pulled his hand from her shoulder and held it out to her. “And we have a date on Friday night.”

A flicker of surprise raced through her. “We do?”

“This Friday and every Friday, until I bust this case open.” His eyes gleamed.

She set her jaw. “Fine.” She shook his hand, holding her breath as he squeezed her fingers and raised them to his lips. “And you’ll release Daniel?”

“For now—if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

She let go of her breath. “I do.”

Daniel glanced up as the jail door opened. A grim-faced Sheriff Martinson stood outside. Daniel rose from his seat on the rickety bench, pushing away the sensation of being led to the gallows.

“Brown’s here. You ready?”

“Might as well get it over with.”

The sheriff escorted him to a small windowless office and gestured to an open chair on the far side of the wooden table. Martinson exited, pulling the door closed behind him.

As soon as Daniel sat, the door opened again. Brown resembled a cat preparing for the kill. “Mr. Shepherd. So good of you to join us.” He grasped the back of the chair opposite Daniel and spun it around, straddling the seat and crossing his arms across its high back.

“I had a choice?”

“Well, not really. But I’m trying to be polite, here.”

Daniel placed his hands on the table. “Why start now?”

Brown chuckled. “I took you as a smart man the first time I laid eyes on you. Being insolent with a federal agent is not what I’d call a smart move, however.”

“And not what I’d call a crime.”

Brown dropped his chin against the high back of the chair and gazed at Daniel. “Do you want to know what I found at your shop?”

The man’s arrogant stare set him on edge, but Daniel maintained eye contact. “Nothing?”

“Not exactly.” Brown gestured to a cardboard box on the floor, crammed with papers. “Long lists of customers, prescription reports, and delivery receipts.”

Daniel leaned back against his chair. “Most of that information is confidential.”

“Then it’s convenient that this badge gives me the right to see it.” Brown lifted the box from the floor and dropped it onto the table. “And do you know what else I found, Daniel?” He picked out one of the papers and gazed at him over the top. “May I call you Daniel?”

Can I call you a malevolent snake?

When Daniel didn’t answer, Brown shrugged and looked back at the paper. “There seems to a discrepancy between the amount of liquor arriving at your back door and the amount going out the front.”

Daniel drummed his fingers against the table. Granddad was right—they’ll find what they want to find. Even when there’s nothing there.

Brown set the paper down on the table and offered a cruel smile. “Do you know why that is?”

“Enlighten me.”

The agent slid his hand into his shirt pocket and drew out a pair of reading glasses. “I’m no bookkeeper, but it appears that you’re bringing in a lot more money than you should be, according to your prescription logs.” He glanced up at Daniel, peering at him over the lenses. “I think you’re selling more alcohol than your records claim.”

Daniel felt a twinge in his neck. Brown was going to make the records say whatever he wanted. “We’re not. If you care to show me the papers, I could explain them to you since, as you say, you’re not a bookkeeper.”

Brown dropped the papers into the box and closed the lid. “No, I don’t think so. I can’t have you tampering with the evidence, after all.” He leaned his arm on the top and stared at Daniel once more. “I will have our own accountant go over your figures.”

He rose, turned the chair, and returned it to its original position. Brown lifted the crate into his arms with a slight grunt and stepped to the doorway. Turning back, he glanced at Daniel. “Oh, yes. You’re free to go. For now.” He patted the side of the box. “We’ll be in touch.”

Daniel sat back against the chair, his hands falling slack at his sides. He’s letting me go?

Sheriff Martinson smiled as he entered the room, his face crinkling into a series of grooved wrinkles. “You heard the man, Shepherd. I’d say that must have gone well. Very well, indeed.”

Daniel stood, a lingering discomfort lurking in his chest. This game was far from over.