From some unknown source of strength, Shelby managed to reply, “Patrick deserves better than you.”
Coral only laughed and said, “Get out of the sandbox, chubby, this is where the big kids play.”
Mortified, Shelby watched as Coral sauntered off and insinuated herself next to Patrick. The two of them left together less than half an hour later. Shelby took her bruised ego and wounded heart home where she indulged in a good cry.
The next day the news of Patrick’s arrest for rape spread across the campus like wildfire. Nearly everyone believed it was true.
Would it have made a difference if I’d spoken up and told the police what Coral said? But what reason would Coral have had to lie about such a serious charge?
The same questions had haunted Shelby for weeks afterward. When Patrick left town, she thought the answers didn’t matter anymore. Until now.
A patron approached Shelby for help finding a book. Pulling her mind out of the past, she dismissed Patrick Rivers from her thoughts and got back to work.
When five o’clock rolled around, Shelby and Wendy closed up and walked to their cars in the parking lot behind the building. The lot, shared with the town hall, the library and several other businesses, was quickly emptying as people headed home.
Shelby caught sight of Chuck Peters standing at the street corner checking a pay phone for loose coins. She knew a moment of guilt. She hadn’t found time to call Reverend Harmon.
Chuck glanced in her direction. He spun around and hurried away, casting frightened glances over his shoulder.
“Shelby, look,” Wendy said, drawing her attention away from the odd behavior of the little man.
Following Wendy’s gaze, Shelby saw Coral Travis talking to Wendell beside her car. An angry expression hardened Coral’s sharp features. It was plain the two were arguing.
Wendy’s eyes grew round as she relished more gossip. “I wonder what Wendell Bixby thinks about Patrick’s return? A city councilman running for mayor can’t be thrilled to have his fiancée’s unhappy past raked up again.”
Knowing the town as well as she did, Shelby knew that was exactly what would happen. Wendy wasn’t the only one who liked to gossip.
As Shelby stopped at her own car, she noticed a white slip of paper waving from beneath the driver’s side wiper blade. Expecting it to be simply another Mother’s Day Festival flyer, she unfolded it and stared at the message in astonishment.
The block-printed note said,
Keep your fat mouth shut about that night or you’ll regret it.
THREE
A few minutes before nine o’clock the next morning, Shelby was still pondering the mystery of the note as she and Wendy walked toward the library door with Sarah Farley holding both their hands.
After going over it a million times, the note still didn’t make sense. Why send her such a childish threat? Who could have written it? Keep her mouth shut about what night?
The night Leah went missing? The night Earl was murdered?
She’d gone over every minute of those nights with the police and the FBI a dozen times.
Mr. Peters had been babbling about not seeing something that night. Had his confused, paranoid mind focused on Shelby as a threat for some reason?
Or did the note refer to another night? The night of the Christmas party four years ago? The night of the bonfire ten years ago?
Charla Renault had certainly made it plain she wouldn’t tolerate gossip about her son, but Shelby couldn’t see Charla writing such a vague warning. She had no trouble delivering her threats in person.
That left Coral. Had she written the note? Shelby wouldn’t put it past her, but why? It didn’t make sense that after ten years Coral would suddenly start worrying that Shelby might talk about their confrontation the night of her alleged rape.
Was it because Patrick Rivers had returned?
Shelby inserted her key in the lock of the library door. The only explanation that made sense was that the note had been placed on her car by mistake.
She held the door open to let Wendy and Sarah precede her into the building as she struggled with the key. It always stuck. She would have to get a new one made one of these days.
“Can I go play?” Sarah looked at her for permission.
Shelby nodded and Sarah darted into the building. She already knew exactly where she wanted to go. The playroom where Shelby and Wendy held their Story Hour each Tuesday and Thursday morning at nine-thirty. A cast of character puppets lined the deep window seat in the room, waiting to be brought to life.
Once story time was over, Sarah’s next favorite activity was helping Shelby empty the return book bin. Standing on a chair beside the metal container, Sarah would proudly hand over the books one by one until it was empty.
For Shelby, it was fun and yet sad to see Sarah acting so grown-up. Leah would be proud of her.
After those activities, Sarah would play on her special floor mat behind the counter until Clint arrived.
Shelby smiled as Sarah raced away, followed closely by Wendy. Keeping the child with her at the library for two mornings a week was Shelby’s way of allowing Clint Herald a little breathing space.
The poor man had had parenthood thrust on him the same night his sister vanished. Shelby knew he was struggling to balance his construction business with Sarah’s full-time needs and the ongoing search for Leah. Helping him by entertaining Sarah for a few hours was the least she could do.
The sound of approaching footsteps made Shelby look over her shoulder. Patrick Rivers was climbing the steps behind her.
The sudden skip of her heart caught her completely off guard. Feeling as flustered as she had when she was a college freshman, she struggled to get the key out of the lock.
“Let me.” Closing his hand over hers, he turned it until it released.
“Thank you.” She yanked the key free and pulled away from him. Her hand tingled from his touch. Warmth raced up her arm.
“My pleasure.” He held the door open, allowing her to escape his overwhelming presence.
She crossed the entryway to the curved glass-fronted counter where her top picks for the week were displayed nestled in deep blue satin. Opening a small half door, she let herself behind the semicircular counter and closed the mahogany panel with a loud click. With the wide countertop between them she felt much more in control.
Patrick strolled in with an unhurried stride. Today he was wearing jeans and a sleeveless red denim shirt that exposed his tanned and muscular arms. Once again Shelby was reminded of a big cat on the prowl—all muscle and power waiting to explode. Her pulse kicked up another notch.
Please don’t let me sound as breathless as I feel.
Pasting a smile on her face, she said, “Good morning. How may I help you?”
The noise of the outer door opening caused them both to glance in that direction. Two women with toddlers in tow entered the building. The quick glance the women exchanged when they noticed Patrick told Shelby they knew exactly who he was. They both herded their children back outside.
Shelby saw the slight slump to his shoulders before he turned back to her and laid a stack of books on the counter.
It must be awful to have people look at him with such suspicion and fear. She didn’t want to feel sorry for him but she couldn’t help it.
Did he regret the past? Had he done it?
He pushed the books toward her. “I found these at the house. I wanted to return them and