Portia nodded. “Yes. But these last two weeks, even after double-checking the camera equipment, doing a trial run on the system, we still lost it all. There’s no footage of the library for almost three weeks.”
“And yet the video feed is still good? From the cameras to the monitor?”
She nodded. “Yes. Our security specialist monitors the feed all day long. And we have it set for Record, always. Something goes wrong during the archival loop.”
Josh frowned. “If anyone understands the information technology around this, you do, Portia. I’m damned sorry this is happening at the local library. Have you noticed anything else unusual?”
She shook her head. “No. Except this morning, when I saw the woman trying to break into the back employee entrance. I should have called SVPD instead of taking her on myself.” She inwardly cringed at her transgression. If she’d told Brindle to immediately call 9-1-1, the woman might be in custody.
And you’d never have met the dream man.
She squirmed in her seat. She’d met no one, knew no one.
“Can you give the sketch artist a good sense of the woman—you’re sure it was a woman—who took off for the tracks?”
“Only her eyes—they were blue. And her mouth had bright red lipstick.”
Josh paused in his note-taking. “I see why you think it’s a woman.”
“I can’t be positive, Josh, but I’ve seen that woman before. And the fact that she had one of our laptops means she’s been in the library at least once before.”
Josh paused, as if weighing something crucial. “Look, I don’t want to alarm you, but we’re working against some bad apples right now.”
“You mean ROC? Russian Organized Crime?”
Josh’s stern expression broke into a chuckle. “You’ve been reading the local paper.”
“Of course. As well as the police blotter reports on social media. But laptop theft hardly matches the kind of crime ROC participates in, doesn’t it? I mean, they’d steal a shipment of computers, I’d imagine. There isn’t enough money in a paltry laptop from a local library.”
“I’m not going to discuss details of any case other than yours, Portia. What I’m trying to explain is that there are some very unsavory types running about. It’s inevitable with the heroin trade and opioid epidemic. And that makes people unpredictable. Paranoid. If the woman you ran after has any suspicion that you might be able to identify her, that might put you at risk. I’m suggesting you be very careful. Don’t travel alone anywhere at night.”
“You mean the usual way a single woman lives, Josh?” She couldn’t help but tease him. “I’m not getting a buddy to walk around Silver Valley—that’s ridiculous. But I will be more aware of my surroundings, I promise.”
“And you’ll call in anything out of the ordinary, no more facing down a criminal on your own?”
“Guilty as charged. For the record, I told my staff to call 9-1-1 if they saw the situation go bad.”
“Which they did.” Josh’s eyes narrowed. “We weren’t able to get anything from the security footage, though. The woman knew what she was doing, with a hood and ski mask. I’m not doubting what you say you saw, Portia. But you were under duress, to say the least.” Josh paused. “I know you saw a woman, but I can’t tell you why I know. Not yet. It’s part of the process of taking your report to question what you remember.”
Portia nodded. “I get it.” She rubbed her upper arms as if to ward off a chill in the well-heated office. “After she shoved me, and I took off after her, yes, but I was calm when we spoke outside the library, at the back exit. I saw red when I saw her on the security camera, trying to open it with a tool of some sort. Now I realize she seemed familiar to me, but of course she had that mask on, so I guess I could be wrong. I’m frustrated that I couldn’t get the actual serial number of the laptop. We’re missing more than one and it would be helpful to know which one the woman had. Each laptop has different storage capacities and software applications. If we knew which it was, it might help to know why she was trying to sneak into the back with it.” The numbers were on the inside of the cases, along with library-specific bar codes. She leaned forward. “You know me, Josh. You’ve watched me grow up, for Pete’s sake. If you’re doubting my powers of observation, ask Annie.” She had him and didn’t feel the least bit bad about it. Portia had been the one to encourage Annie to reconnect with Josh on more than professional matters last summer.
“I’m not faulting your judgment, Portia. I’m questioning what you’ve just been through, how it may have altered your recollection.”
“It hasn’t, or else I’d still be in the ER, and you’d be questioning me there.”
“True.” Josh paused from typing in her account and leveled a look at her. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
Portia nodded. “Absolutely. The person, the man who...who saved my life, he bore the brunt of the fall.” The memory of being in his arms wrapped around her, and it wasn’t frightening. The woman who’d have happily left her to be hit by the train, that was scary. But the stranger...he was more.
“By the way, Josh, I was hoping you’d be able to help me out. The man who saved me—he wouldn’t give me his name. At the very least, I owe him an apology. Do you know who it was?” She was counting on SVPD’s stellar reputation that they’d questioned everyone at the scene, and the man had been the one to hand her over to the EMTs, who arrived after SVPD. But her memory of that was foggy—Josh was right, she’d had a shakeup.
“Aww, Portia, it sounds like a Good Samaritan.” Josh’s gaze slid from hers, and if the day hadn’t already been confrontational enough, she’d call her old school buddy on it. But not now.
It didn’t matter. If the man wanted her to know his name, he had plenty of opportunity to tell her. And she wasn’t as obtuse as Josh might believe—Annie had told her that there were always cases and law enforcement operations that Josh couldn’t talk about. Maybe the man was part of that.
Or maybe she just had a special place in her heart for a hot man, around her age, who had saved her life.
Portia ignored the ER doctor’s suggestion to take it easy for the rest of the day and went back to the library for the rest of the afternoon, after she left SVPD. Sure, the almost-being-killed scene on the railroad tracks had shaken her up for a bit, but there was work to be done at the library, and she had to pull her shift at the homeless shelter tonight. With the record-breaking low temperatures, the fifty-bed facility had been overflowing for two weeks solid. As exhausted as she imagined she was going to feel by later this evening, she knew she had a warm bed to go back to, a roof over her head from any snow flurries. The homeless of Silver Valley and surrounding Harrisburg area had few choices. Silver Valley Homeless Mission was one of them.
The reminder of her empty bed stung in a way it hadn’t since she’d broken up with Rob. She had her own bed to sleep in, her own place, but it was always more fulfilling to share it with someone. Rob had been the only man she’d lived with for a short time. The other men she’d dated had, like her, enjoyed their own apartments when they weren’t spending time together. Sometimes she wondered if she was destined to be single her entire life. She’d never met a man who’d made her feel she wanted to be with him, live with him, make a lifelong commitment.
Which was another reason why the train track rescue dude intrigued her. How was it that a man she’d never met had left more of an impression on her than guys she’d dated for months at a time?
She