He leaned in and gave me a soft, sensual kiss on my neck that sent a thousand tingles zipping through my system. Then he left. I had to admit I was getting tired of seeing him leave. I could acknowledge that much, even if I wasn’t sure what my next move should be.
Robbie and Tiger circled my feet, reminding me that it was time for their evening treat. I spent a few minutes petting them. When Robbie rolled over for a belly rub, Tiger licked his face. Our happy little family.
As I washed my face and got ready for bed, I thought about what we’d discovered with the traffic photos. Not much, really. But I actually felt relieved that Althea’s car hadn’t been in any of them. I’d grown fond of the older woman and I knew Jane had, too. Althea seemed to genuinely care for Jane and I hoped her feelings extended to me, too—if only to get me a discount at her fabulous shop in Blue Point. But seriously, I was glad to know that Althea wasn’t the one sneaking into town to kill Jesse and search his home. So who was?
Despite that question burning a hole in my brain, I climbed into bed and attempted to get some sleep.
*
Mac met me in the driveway the next morning and we walked to City Hall to attend the Planning Commission meeting.
What I’d hoped would take fifteen minutes to rubber-stamp took over two hours of wrangling and protesting before I was even allowed to speak on Mac’s behalf. There was even one old guy carrying a sign protesting the destruction of the lighthouse.
I assured Teddy Peters, who was head of the Commission, and the other Commission members that we had no plans to change the facade of either the mansion or the lighthouse itself. “May I remind you all that the town allowed MacKintyre Sullivan to buy our lighthouse mansion because we knew he recognized it as a treasured landmark and would treat it with the proper respect? Let’s not forget that Mr. Sullivan is a world-renowned author and a very important new member of our community. It would behoove us to do what we can to create a welcoming environment for him. It might attract more of his ilk to the area.”
Mac reached out and pinched me at that point, probably for referring to his “ilk.” I continued my impassioned speech and maybe I did gush a bit much.
When I finally sat down, Aldous Murch stood up and I had to suppress a groan.
“He might be famous,” Aldous said, “but that don’t give him the right to desecrate our sacred landmarks.”
“I object,” I said loudly.
“This isn’t a court of law, Shannon,” Teddy said mildly. “Let Aldous make his points and then we’ll figure out where to go from there.”
I let Aldous talk. In the end, he helped Mac’s case by being so overly freaked out about any little improvement to the lighthouse mansion that the rest of the Commission members finally had to tell him to sit down.
My blueprints were approved and my applications were stamped and recorded.
Outside on the steps of City Hall, I gave a loud whoop of joy. “We did it!”
“You did it, Irish,” he said, and grabbed me in a quick hug. “Thank you, from me and others of my ilk.”
I laughed with him. “You’re welcome. Thank goodness that’s over.”
On the walk home, we saw Eric heading toward us. All business, he held up his hand to stop us.
“Glad I ran into you two,” he said. “Mind coming down to the station to talk?”
“I didn’t do it,” I said immediately.
Eric grinned. “Didn’t do what, Shannon?”
“Anything. I swear.”
Mac was chuckling and Eric’s grin broadened. “I just want to show you both something.”
I really liked Thor—aka Police Chief Eric Jensen—a lot. I mean, the guy was handsome and smart and had a great sense of humor—when he wasn’t trying to arrest me. But anytime he flashed me that ultrafocused police chief look of his, I immediately wondered if I should call my lawyer.
“No problem,” Mac said. “We’ll walk with you.” He obviously didn’t suffer from the same guilty conscience I did.
“You go on ahead.” Eric gestured toward the post office. “I’ve gotta buy some stamps. I’ll only be a few minutes behind you.”
“Okay, see you there.”
As we headed toward the police station three blocks over, I fretted.
“What’s wrong?” Mac said.
“Why does he want to talk to us?”
“I have no idea, but I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“He’s the police chief and he didn’t look happy. I worry.”
“I’m right here. I won’t let him arrest you.” Mac wrapped his hand around mine and held it all the way to the station. It helped.
Five minutes later, Eric arrived and ushered us into his office. Once we were seated, he pulled a file off a small stack at the side of his desk, opened it, and turned it around so we could see what was inside. There were a number of dull color photographs that had been copied onto shiny paper.
“They’re awfully grainy,” I said. “Can you tell what they are?”
Mac grabbed one of the sheets to examine it more closely. “It’s us.”