Sam glanced at the applications Dupont had given him. Maybe it was time to start looking through them.

"It might be just as well that she’s gone. Eric said she might not be adoptable. If she makes the shelter circuit and no one claims her, she could be euthanized. Maybe it’s better that she’s out there on her own," Reese said.

Jo looked disturbed by this. She even put down the jelly donut she’d dug out of the bag and brushed off her fingers. You knew it had to be bad when Jo didn’t finish her donut. "But what will she eat? In the winter, where will she sleep?"

"I don’t know. It looks like she’s been on her own for a while. Maybe we can look out for her somehow."

"If she sticks around the area." Sam wadded up the paper from his finished sandwich and tossed it into the trash.

Reese’s computer dinged. "Good news. I ran the password decryption program on Lynn’s Google account, and looks like it worked."

"How did you know she had a Google account?" Sam asked.

Reese shrugged. "It was just a guess. A lot of people have them. You know it’s free. And you can get Google calendar and email. I figured she worked for the company, and they didn’t have a lot of money, so they probably didn’t spend money on fancy apps."

"Did you say calendar?" Jo’s attention was focused on Reese.

Reese smiled. "Yes, I did. The program figured out her password. It runs a bunch of combinations. And guess what. She did have an appointment that day."

Sam and Jo were across the room in a second, looking down at Reese’s laptop screen. "You mean the day they all came to town, she wasn’t just meeting with Noah?"

Reese tapped her finger on the screen. "That was the twelfth, right? Look at where it says, ’meeting 1 PM. R. B.’"

"R. B.?" Jo screwed up her face. "Unless R. B. is code for mauling Noah near the dumpster, it looks like Amber might have been right about Lynn being up to something."

Sam walked up Main Street toward the antiques store. Julie had said she’d seen Lynn heading in that direction and that Lynn collected antique marbles. No marbles have been found in her belongings, but it was possible she didn’t find anything in the store that she wanted to add to her collection.

But while Julie had said that she’d seen Lynn walk up toward the antiques store, Tara had said she’d seen her in the alley next to O’Malley’s. Could she have been in both places? It was possible since they had been downtown for an hour. But what about the appointment with R. B.? Would she have had time for all three?

The bell on the antique oak door of the shop jangled as Sam opened it. Inside, Clara Weatherby looked up at him from behind the counter. She looked the same as she always did, with snow-white hair, a deeply wrinkled face, and a generous smile. Sam guessed Clara to be about eighty. She’d always owned the antique shop, and he’d known her since he was a little boy.

"Samuel! How lovely to see you. Have you decided to take up collecting? Start a collection now, and leave some family heirlooms for your lovely girls."

Sam chuckled. Antique collecting wasn’t really his thing. He was more of a minimalist. "Not today, Clara. Today I have some questions."

"Hopefully, I have the answers."

"I was wondering if a tourist came in recently. A young woman looking for marbles." Sam leaned on the glass display case Clara used as a counter while she thought.

Clara frowned. "I don’t recall anything like that. And you know I have a sharp memory."

Clara’s memory was legendary. If someone had come looking for a cobalt-blue Meissen teapot in 1950, she’d remember it to the day and be able to supply that teapot even if she came across it decades later. He didn’t doubt that Clara would remember if Lynn had been in there.

"Did you work every day this week?" he asked. Clara had a few part-time helpers that manned the store when she went to estate sales and auctions.

"Yep. No auctions for me to attend this week, so I’ve been behind the counter every day. If you’re asking if the girl came in this week, I can assure you she didn’t."

Sam thanked Clara and left. Someone had lied about the marbles, but he didn’t know if it was Julie that had lied or if Lynn had lied to Julie. Why would Lynn lie?

She clearly did have a meeting and apparently hadn’t told any of her coworkers. But why keep it a secret? And who was R. B.?

Several of them had said that Lynn had headed in the direction of the antiques store. That didn’t mean she stopped there, though. Maybe if he continued down the street, something would jump out at him.

Sam walked slowly, looking down the side streets and into the shops. He wasn’t just trying to figure out where Lynn might have really gone—he was also looking for any sign of Lucy.

He’d gotten attached to the dog in the short time he’d known her. He hated thinking about her trying to survive out on the streets alone. Up here, there was a lot of wildlife that could be dangerous to dogs, and winter temperatures dipped well below zero.

Reese’s announcement of how Lucy could be euthanized had chilled him. Maybe Sam could find someone that would take her. One of his daughters or his ex-wife? Maybe even Mick.

At the end of the street was a plain-looking gray concrete building. In Sam’s opinion, it was the ugliest building in town. It hadn’t been built in the early 1900s like the rest of Main Street and didn’t have the fine architectural details the other buildings had. This one had been built around 1970 and was made of giant concrete blocks that would have been more at home in an inner city than in a quaint New England town.

Sam never paid much attention to the building, and not just because of its looks. It was loaded with lawyers and accountants. He didn’t get along with many lawyers in town, especially the ones that defended those who broke the law.

He was about to turn back when the black-and-gold sign listing the occupants caught his eye. One occupant in particular. Richard Bannister Funding. R. B.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Richard Bannister’s office was on the second floor. Sam took the stairs. Richard was about twelve years younger than Sam, but Sam had known his family since he was a kid. He remembered him as a somewhat chubby and awkward but happy kid running around at town cookouts and riding his bike up and down the streets.

Judging by the mahogany furniture, thick burgundy rug, and receptionist in the foyer of his office suite, Richard had done well for himself.

Sam wasn’t wearing his police uniform, just the windbreaker with the White Rock Police insignia, his jeans, and a blue button-down shirt, so he flashed his badge at the receptionist.

"Is Mr. Bannister in?"

Her eyes widened at his badge. She had nice eyes. Light blue, with just a hint of dark mascara. Her outfit was a tailored suit. She looked worried.

"Is there some trouble?" she asked.

"Not at all." Sam introduced himself. "Sam Mason. Chief of police, but I’m sort of a family friend. Just here to ask a question or two."

Her relief was palpable. She pressed a button on the phone and announced that Sam was there.

She stood. "Right this way."

Sam followed her to a mahogany door with a large brass handle, which she opened to reveal a man in his late twenties sitting behind a gigantic desk. The awkward, chubby kid was gone. Richard had grown up to be trim and full of self-confidence. He still seemed happy.

He stood and came around the desk, extending his hand, a smile on his face. "Sam. Good to see you."