Thirty-Three and a Half Shenanigans (20 page)

“What are you investigating?”

He hesitated for several seconds. “I can’t talk about it, sweetheart. Official business.”

“How can it be official business if your boss doesn’t approve?”

He turned down our hidden drive, the headlights bouncing off the front porch. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

He was hiding something important from me, but I was hardly in a position to demand answers, and the last thing I wanted to do was add to his stress. Still, I had to ask my question again, especially after my encounter with Hilary that afternoon. “You’re sure this doesn’t have anything to do with J.R.?”

I was worried he’d be offended that I hadn’t accepted his first answer, but he sighed, then answered, sounding tired. “No, Rose. I’d tell you if it did. Okay?”

“Okay.” It wasn’t really. Something big was up, but without knowing what it was, I had no idea how to console him.

Mason parked in front the house and kissed me, wrapping his arms around my back to pull me closer. I tangled my hands in his hair as his hands slid under my sweater.

“I love you, Rose,” he murmured against my lips.

I tried to tug his coat off and whacked my hand. “This steering wheel’s in my way,” I said, reaching to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Let’s go inside.”

“Gladly.” But first he kissed me again, his mouth and hands driving me crazy.

He opened the door and helped me out, then pushed me back against the truck, kissing me senseless.

Suddenly he lifted his head and turned his face toward the front porch. “Something’s wrong with Muffy.”

He was right. I was used to her barking when we came home, but this time she sounded much more urgent and panicked than usual. I’d been too wrapped up in Mason to notice.

The light of a lamp shone through the living room window, giving the first floor a warm, homey glow—a sharp contrast to Muffy’s alarmed cries. I knew she hated being left at home all day, and I felt guilty that I hadn’t come home to get her before we ate dinner at Maeve’s. But unless her separation anxiety had leaped to new levels, something was seriously wrong.

Mason ran up the steps, and I followed him, but as soon as he realized I was behind him, he spun around, his face hard. “Rose, go back to the truck.”

“Not if something’s wrong with Muffy!”

“Then please just stay at the bottom of the steps.”

“What if someone broke in? I need to get her. She’s clearly upset!”

“Rose,
please
,” he pleaded as he unlocked the front door and pushed it open. I waited for my little dog to run out to me like she usually did, but her barking only grew more desperate.

I started up the steps, but Mason turned to face me, pointing at my feet. “
Wait there
.” Then he went inside, leaving the front door open.

The fact that I couldn’t think of a single time he’d ever issued me an order was what kept me in place.

Several seconds later, Muffy’s barks turned to high-pitched whines, and it took everything in me to not run inside to see what was wrong with her. I was in tears when Mason walked out the door with Muffy in his arms. He hugged her close as he stroked her head.

“Why was she upset?”

“She was shut in the hall closet.”

“What?” I asked in dismay.

His body was rigid, and he looked furious. “Someone broke in through the back door. They must have locked her up.”

My poor little dog was nearly hysterical. I started to cry. “How long was she in there?”

His gaze softened as he handed her to me. “I don’t know, but she’s safe now. Her front paws are a little raw from scratching at the door, but I think she’s okay. I’m going to call Joe and ask him to check this out.”

I wanted to ask him why he was calling Joe personally, but he’d already stepped away and pulled out his phone. Their conversation was short and he spoke low enough that I only heard bits and snatches. “. . . break-in . . . I’m not sure . . . she’s fine . . .”

When he hung up the phone, he turned to me. “Joe’s on his way. He’ll be here in a few minutes. Why don’t you let Muffy do her business, and then get into the truck, okay?”

“What are
you
gonna do?”

“I’m going back inside to look around.”

“Is it safe?”

“I’m sure whoever did this is long gone.”

“Then why are you telling me to get in the truck?” Mason was still hiding something.

“Because I want to make sure you’re safe on the off chance they’re still here.”

“That’s crap, Mason! You should wait for Joe.”

He ignored me, turning his attention to Muffy. She still whined in my arms, and Mason rubbed under her ears. “It’s okay, girl. Your momma’s got you.”

“Why did you call Joe and not just 911?”

His hard face was back. “Because I trust Joe to handle this the right way.”

“Did you call him because you think this has something to do with J.R.?”

His face hardened even further. “We won’t know anything until Joe gets here.” He headed for the door. “Stay out here.”

I wanted to protest, but Muffy was squirming in my arms, so I set her down in the yard. She continued to whimper while she did her business, then hung close to my leg, so I squatted and rubbed the back of her head while watching for Mason’s silhouette in the windows.

The more likely reason behind the break-in was
me
. Did this have anything to do with my shenanigans with Neely Kate earlier in the day? Had I done this to Muffy? Or maybe Eric at the Burger Shack thought I knew something after my strange behavior the day before. Of course, it could have something to do with Skeeter. He’d told me that someone was after Mason. He’d also told me about Mason’s meeting with his boss before Maeve did. Anger and betrayal rose up inside me at the very thought. But it didn’t make sense . . . Unless I was deluded, he was trying to earn my trust, and besides, what could he possibly want from me other than my “gift”? Anyway, Skeeter Malcolm was smart, so if he’d wanted to break into my house, he wouldn’t have been this obvious about it.

Mason emerged from the house as headlights appeared on the driveway. He walked down the steps toward me.

“You’re supposed to be in the truck,” he said without recrimination.

“It didn’t feel right with you inside and all.”

He tried to give me a reassuring look as the sheriff car parked on the other side of my truck.

“Mason, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you saying you’re sorry?”

“This is probably my fault.” One way or the other, it always was.

He pulled me close. “This isn’t your fault, Rose,” he murmured against my hair. “You’re safe, and Muffy seems to have calmed down. That’s all that matters.”

Joe walked up to Mason and me, all business. He’d changed out of his uniform and was dressed in jeans and a leather coat. I expected Muffy to bolt for him, but she seemed too scared to leave my side, so I picked her up and cuddled her. If Joe noticed the fact that she didn’t run to him, he didn’t comment—instead he honed in on Mason.

Joe started to say something, but Mason interrupted him. “Rose only knows there was a break-in.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

They ignored me, Joe’s face hard. “I want to look around.”

Mason nodded. “I haven’t touched anything. Come on in, and I’ll show you.” Mason looked up at me. “Rose, stay outside.”

I put Muffy down, then put my hands on my hips. “No! You tell me what’s going on.”

Mason moved over to me and grabbed my upper arms. “Sweetheart, I really need you to stay outside with Muffy. Once Joe—who, as you know, is trained to go over these things—says it’s clear, then you can come in. Okay?”

I wanted to know what they were hiding, but I figured it would be better to press them for information after they’d looked around. “Okay.”

Relief washed over his face, but he still seemed really worried. “Thank you.”

I glanced up at him, wondering what was inside that was spooking him so, but I let him leave with Joe, who appeared to be getting angrier by the second.

They disappeared into the house, letting the front door gape open. I kept expecting the upstairs lights to turn on, but they never did. That was odd. If we’d been burgled, wouldn’t they look upstairs?

About five minutes later, both men emerged through the front door, and Joe started to yell. He waved his hands around and gave Mason a shove. To my surprise, Mason didn’t try to fight back.

I was up the porch steps faster than a lightning bolt. “Joe McAllister! You get your hands off my boyfriend!”

Joe took several steps back, his chest heaving as he jabbed a finger at Mason. “I told you this was a bad idea!”

Mason didn’t say a word.

“What’s going on?” Fear lodged in my throat. “What’s inside my house? Who broke in and why?”

Neither one of them answered me.

“I have a right to know! Who did I upset this time?”

Mason’s eyes flew open. “Rose, no one’s upset with you. It was me.”

I blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“Whoever broke in went to my office and broke a lock on the desk drawer.”

That meant they were after something Mason had been working on at home. “Did they steal some of your work papers?”

He shook his head, but he looked worried. “No. I can’t figure out what they were after. There’s a file in there that might have been of interest, but it wasn’t taken.”

“Get a damned safe, Mason!” Joe shouted.

I spun around to face Joe. “Why are you yelling at him?”

“Because he’s putting your life in danger! He’s bringing his work home, and now people are breaking into your house, Rose.”

“Oh.”

Mason released a heavy breath. “I think you should spend the night at Violet’s house.”

“And where do you plan on staying?”

“Here.”

“Then I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“Rose,” he pleaded with me.

“You said they were here looking for something—just in your office—and it doesn’t look like they took anything.” I flung my arms out from my side. “So they’re done. They’re not coming back.”

“We don’t know that.”

“And we don’t know if the groundhog is gonna see his shadow on Groundhog Day, yet we’re still gettin’ out of bed.”

He shook his head.

I clenched my fists. “I’m stayin’.”

Joe cursed under his breath. “You are the most hardheaded woman I ever met.”

I gave him a tight smile. “Thank you.”

He brushed past me and started down the steps. “I’ll send someone out to dust for prints, and I’ll also set up a protective detail to sit out here at night to protect Rose.”

Fury burned my gut. “You should be settin’ that up because the Assistant District Attorney’s home was broken into, not because it happened to be Rose Gardner’s house.”

To my surprise, Joe seemed properly chastised as he turned around to face me. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He looked up at Mason. “Get a safe. And a damned alarm system.”

We watched Joe drive away, and I gave Mason a hug. “Are you okay?”

“He’s right. I’m putting you in danger by bringing my work home.”

I shook my head. “You do that so we can spend more time together. This was a random occurrence.”

“That’s just it . . . I don’t think it was.”

“Does it have something to do with whatever the DA doesn’t want you working on?”

“I don’t think so. Only a handful of people know about it.”

“So I’m going to ask you again: does this have to do with J.R.?”

He rubbed his mouth. “The file I’ve been putting together on him is still there.”

“Then we’ll do what Joe suggested. You just get a safe, and we’ll put in an alarm system.”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s enough.”

“Mason, stop. If you don’t want to bring your work home, I’ll just start hanging out at your office at night. And I’ll bring Muffy to stink up the place.” I gave him a teasing grin. “I just have to figure out how to sneak her through security.”

He smiled and kissed the top of my head. “I love you.”

“I love you too, so enough of that nonsense.”

We went inside and waited for the sheriff deputy, and I couldn’t help thinking that whatever Mason and Joe were hiding reeked of J.R. Simmons, despite Mason’s instance otherwise.

Apparently, the Fenton County Sheriff Department took a break-in at the county ADA’s house more seriously than the Henryetta Police Department took a break-in at Rose Gardner’s house. The deputies spent a lot of time dusting for prints and looking for evidence, but nothing conclusive was found. But I did hear them murmur that they’d found something in the drawer that they’d determined didn’t belong to Mason—a pocket knife that had been used to pry open the drawer.

Mason kept trying to get me to take Muffy to Violet’s or his mom’s house, but I was sufficiently freaked out over his safety that I couldn’t bear to leave him.

The deputies did a sweep of the second floor and declared it untouched, allowing me to take Muffy upstairs instead of waiting outside in the cold. Mason followed them around like a shadow, and while they checked out the living room, dining room, and kitchen—paying particular attention to the back door, which had been busted open—they spent the majority of their time in Mason’s office.

I sat on the steps for a while with Muffy on my lap, studying Mason as he stood to the side and watched the deputies work.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, expecting to see Neely Kate’s number. I sucked in my breath when I saw SM instead.

I set Muffy down and walked upstairs to my room—my little dog trailing behind me—and answered. “Did you find something out about Dolly Parton?”

“No, I heard about your incident.”

How had he heard already? But it had probably been on a police scanner. “Do you know who did this?”

“No. But I don’t like it.”

“Well, thanks for your concern.”

“Oh, I’m not concerned for your boyfriend. I think whoever broke into your house was looking for dirt on me . . . maybe hoping to pin the break-in on me too.”

“
What?
” I shook my head.

“Did they find anything there?”