Allison took another tentative step down, undecided, and heard a rush of footsteps followed by the bang of the back door. The noise galvanized her into action. She ran down the stairs, swung around the newel post at the bottom and raced for the back exit. She couldn’t possibly catch the person, but maybe she could get a glimpse of him.
The back door was closed but not locked. She yanked it open, charged forward and nearly ran into Nick Whiting, who grasped her by the elbows.
The tinge of fear transformed into anger. “What do you mean by sneaking around the building that way? Were you trying to alarm me?”
Nick’s open face tightened. “Is fighting mad always your first response? I wasn’t in the building. I was just coming out of the workshop when I thought I heard someone call out. I came to see what was wrong.”
That sounded logical. Besides, the person she’d heard was going out. He or she wouldn’t turn around and come back in, would they?
Only if they wanted to make you think they were just arriving on the scene, a little voice commented at the back of her mind.
Allison pulled away from Nick’s warm grasp, aware of his strength. “What are you doing here this late, anyway?”
“Working,” he said briefly. “I went home to put my son to bed, and then I came back to work for an hour or so.”
“Son?” She wasn’t sure why she was so startled. Of course someone like Nick would be married. He ought to wear a wedding ring. “I didn’t know you were married.”
His strong features tightened again. “I’m not. My son, Jamie, is six. We live with my folks.”
Allison’s mind seethed with questions, none of which she dared ask. Better stick to the point. “I heard someone in the building. Whoever it was, he didn’t answer when I called. You had mentioned something about a prowler.”
“So you decided to go after him alone?” His eyebrow rose in that gesture she was beginning to dislike.
“Certainly not. I heard him go out of the building. I was just hoping to get a look at him.” A shiver went through her. “Did you see anyone?”
“Not a glimpse, but anyone could have gone around the corner before I got to where I’d see him.” He gave her a measuring look, as if assessing how much she was to be trusted.
She did her best to ignore it. “Do you suppose he broke into any of the offices?”
“I’ll have a look,” Nick said. “You stay here.”
That sounded tempting, but her pride intervened. “I’ll go with you.”
Exasperation was written clearly on his face, but he didn’t argue. Together they moved through the ground floor, checking doors. She hated admitting that she wanted to stick close to him. Somehow that rough-hewn appearance of his was very appealing right now. He looked as if he could handle anything.
The shops were all locked, dark and, she supposed, normal.
“My keys are upstairs in Evelyn’s office. We could look inside,” she offered.
“I don’t think there’s much point. If someone had broken in, it would be obvious.” Nick flicked a light switch, bathing the back part of the hallway in its glow. The storerooms were locked and dark, as well.
Allison eyed Nick’s face as they went up the stairs side by side. His jaw was set, and his gaze was intent. He looked tough and determined, and she would definitely stack him up against any prowler.
There was that word again. “Why did you think there might be a prowler?”
He looked startled for an instant. “You mean when I saw you last night?” He shrugged. “There have been rumors making the rounds about a prowler in town, but no one seems to have seen anything definite.”
“If that’s the case, this should be reported to the authorities. I’ll call 911—”
“No need,” Nick said. “Consider it reported. As it happens, my brother, Mac, is the police chief. And oddly enough, I’m the mayor.”
“You? The mayor?”
Nick grinned at the doubt she made obvious. “Yes, me. Don’t be impressed, though. In a town of eight thousand people, being the mayor is as much a popularity contest as anything else.”
“I see.” She studied his face, wondering just how serious he was. “What, exactly, does the mayor of Laurel Ridge do?”
Nick shrugged. “Goes to a town council meeting once a month. Declares it Safety Week or Blueberry Day. Serves as a judge for the annual Pet and Toy Parade.”
Was he serious? Apparently so. “I’m sure you’re well suited to judging the Pet and Toy Parade, whatever that is.”
“Hey, that’s a serious event here.” He assumed an injured look as he checked office doors and rattled handles on the second floor. “And judging isn’t a piece of cake, especially when the contestants might cry if they don’t win. Or bite the judge.”
Her lips quirked as she thought of Hector’s reaction to him. “As I said, well suited.”
“The owners of last year’s contestants in the most colorful pet competition nearly came to blows.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t a pretty sight, believe me.”
His gaze met hers, his golden-brown eyes bright with amusement, and Allison felt an unexpected lurch in the area of her heart.
No, she told herself firmly.
“Since everything seems secure, I’d better pack up and get over to the—” She opened the office door, and Hector streaked out, moving so fast he was nothing more than an orange blur.
Nick jumped back, then gave an unsteady laugh. “I think that cat’s out to get me. What’s he so upset about now?”
Allison’s hand froze on the knob. “Look.” In the far corner of the room was a door that she’d assumed led to a closet. It had been closed and she’d thought locked when she left.
Now it stood wide-open, revealing a flight of wooden stairs that led up into darkness.
Nick’s hand closed on hers, and he drew her back from the door. “I take it you didn’t have the attic door open?”
“I didn’t even know that’s what it was.” She shivered. “We’d better call the police.”
Nick took a cell phone from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “I’m going to have a look. If you hear anything odd, press 9-1-1.”
She clutched his arm. “What do you mean, odd? Like you being knocked over the head? Let the police do it. You don’t need to be macho about it.”
“I’m not.” He took both her hands in his. “Look, if I call in, that means whoever’s on duty will rush over here in the patrol car, siren wailing. It would probably be Johnny Foster—eighteen, eager and inclined to trip over his own feet. Let me see if there’s any sign up there first, and then I’ll talk to Mac quietly. No point in setting the whole town gossiping about you your second night here.”
Much as she hated to admit it, his words made a certain amount of sense. “All right. But be careful.” She frowned. “I thought the sound I heard came from the other end of the building.”
“Could have,” he said. “The attic stretches clear across, and there’s a stairway in each corner. Whoever was up there, he might have heard you go out of the room and slid down this way, then on downstairs by the back stairway.”
She blinked. “I didn’t even know there was a back stairway.”
He grinned. “You’d best explore your new property. But not now.” He squeezed her hands, crossed the room quickly