McCabe opened the file on his desk. “Deputy Fuentes caught me up on everything that happened while I was away, but it’s not the same as hearing it directly from those who were involved. Can you help me see things from your perspective? I’d like you to start at the beginning. From the first time you met the Leopold women.”
Since Nora would do anything to help the sheriff discover what happened to Bren, and to Bren’s house, she immediately started talking.
It took longer than expected to relay every detail, and she ate the rest of her chips and drank all of her iced tea as she talked. When her story was done, she felt totally spent.
“I may need your help,” McCabe said after jotting down a note. “We can’t make heads or tails of that book page left under your welcome mat. I’ve reached out to a number of professors and librarians to see if any of them recognize that language, but I don’t know when they’ll respond. If they respond at all. Since it’s a Sunday, most won’t see my email until tomorrow, but I want to understand how this document fits in. Do you know someone who could identify it? An expert on antique books?”
Roberta Rabinowitz, Nora thought. If anyone can identify that book page, it’s her.
“I could give you a couple of names,” she said.
McCabe passed her a piece of notebook paper, and she wrote down Roberta’s name and her position at Columbia. She also added the name of a special collections librarian at the Library of Congress.
“If these two people can’t identify that book page, no one can,” Nora said. Before McCabe could speak again, she asked, “Do you think that’s why Bren’s house was torn apart? Was someone looking for that page?”
“Without knowing what it is, that’s hard to say.”
Remembering Bren’s gutted teddy bear, Nora squeezed her napkin into a tight ball. “What about the man with the tattoos on his arm?”
“We’ve placed calls to the area hotels and campsites. None of the managers knows of a guest with those markings.” McCabe gave a little shake of his head. “It would be easy enough to hide those tattoos from view. Also, this man could be long gone. The festival drew over a thousand people to town. Some stayed around here, but others took off before the concert got underway.”
“And Celeste? Was she able to talk last night?”
McCabe looked aggrieved. “No. When Andrews saw the state she was in, he called her caseworker and let her take charge of Celeste. I’ll stop by her place later. I have to question her, though I’ll try very hard to not upset her.”
Nora wished that Celeste could take all the time she needed to hide from the world, but the world would never allow it. Not only had her daughter died suddenly, but someone had also destroyed her daughter’s belongings. Celeste was the only person who could shed any light on these acts, and McCabe had to find out what she knew. He didn’t want to cause her distress, but the truth was paramount to Grant McCabe. He valued truth above all things.
Getting to her feet, Nora said, “Please let her caseworker know that I’m available. If she needs someone to sit with Celeste, or read to her, or do errands, she should call me. I want Celeste to know that she isn’t alone.”
McCabe promised that he’d convey the message. As he walked Nora back to the lobby, he told her that his sister had loved the cookbook he’d given her.
“I owe you a better lunch. We’ll have to go out next time,” he said. He then touched the brim of his hat and added, “I’m glad I ran into you. I expect it’ll be the highlight of my day.”
Warmth spread through Nora’s body. She almost told McCabe that she’d missed him. It was true, but she bit back the words and settled for “mine too.”
Outside, the sky was clotted with gray clouds and rain seemed imminent. Nora picked up her pace. She wanted to get her grocery shopping done and be home before the storm hit.
Dumping her bags into a cart, she rushed around the produce section, spending less time inspecting fruits and vegetables than usual. The line for the deli counter was long, so she grabbed a number and, leaving her cart parked near a pallet of boxed sodas stacked to form the shape of a football goal post, she headed down the soup and canned meats aisle.
Connie Knapp’s cart was positioned directly in front of the soups. There was no way Nora could reach her favorite brand without asking Connie to move.
The two women hadn’t seen each other since Connie’s visit to Miracle Books, but Connie smiled at Nora like they were old friends.