Continually looking over her shoulder, she didn’t breathe easy until she pulled into her neighborhood. One of the houses down the street appeared to be hosting a party, and she had to circle the block to find a parking spot, grumbling that it wasn’t near the Victorian where she usually parked.
Hustling down the sidewalk toward the back of the house, she noted how dark the windows were. Griffin was out at a birthday celebration for his brother. Terri and Bjorn had mentioned a concert near the harbor they planned on attending. And Margaretha was probably in bed or getting ready for it.
Slipping into the back door, she started toward the stairs when she stopped and sucked in a deep breath. All the way home, she’d tried to decide what course of action made the most sense. Now, standing in the lit main hallway that led from the front door to the back with the wide staircase to the side, she let out a long, slow breath. Pulling out her phone, she dialed Kyle, but it went straight to voicemail. “Kyle, it’s Caitlyn. I need you to come to my house as soon as possible. It’s official. I’ll explain when you get here.” She knew her message would probably send her brother off the deep end, but she had to get rid of the bag of powder from her purse, and he’d know what to do with it. Next, she sent Griffin a text. Come home as soon as you can. It’s important. I found something at school and am having Kyle come look at it.
She started toward the stairs, then halted, her mind still a tangled mess of thoughts. Renée was one of the people who had ordered something from T&B during the fair. Are they involved also? She stared at their door, her body halted in shock. Is she getting drugs from Terri and Bjorn or just using their box to hide them in?
Blowing out a breath, she tried to stop the pounding of her heartbeat. Maybe Terri and Bjorn aren’t involved. Maybe this has nothing to do with them. Maybe Renée just used the box to hide her own stash.
Bringing her hands up to the side of her head, she rubbed her forehead, uncertainty filling her. Just like with Russ, she hated the idea of casting suspicion on someone completely innocent. Dropping her hands, she stared at Terri and Bjorn’s front door and remembered she had a key to their apartment. Not long after she moved in, they had gone on vacation for a week, and she’d been given a key to water their plants. She’d forgotten about the key, and they must have also. Looking down at her keyring, she flipped through several until she found the one marked T&B.
They’re not here. I could slip in and just take a look around for a couple of minutes. She’d spent plenty of time in their spare bedroom where they kept products, samples, supplies, packing boxes, labels, and a multitude of other items that she used when she helped them package their products to mail. She’d never seen anything suspicious there, and as many times as she’d been in that room, she couldn’t imagine it was where they’d keep something illegal. She’d also been in their kitchen and living room numerous times. But their bedroom. I’ve never spent any time in the bedroom.
Moving quickly before she decided her idea was completely harebrained and ridiculous, she knocked on their front door just to make sure they weren’t there, then unlocked it and stepped in. It was dark, with just a small night light in the hallway between the living room and kitchen that led to the bedrooms. Hurrying into the main bedroom, she flipped on the light switch which turned on a small lamp by the bed. Glancing around, she wasn’t sure how she’d ever figure out what they might have. Besides the typical bedroom furniture, the room was crowded with more furniture, including two overstuffed chairs, a tall antique armoire, rugs of multiple colors, and two bookcases crammed full of books.
Feeling a bit claustrophobic, she raced into the connecting bathroom and glanced inside the vanity cabinets and linen closet, finding nothing. She moved around the bedroom with just as much haste, finding nothing behind the books in the cases, nothing in the drawers although she didn’t dig through them, finding that idea to be too distasteful even though she was searching in someone else’s bedroom, and nothing in the armoire.
Kneeling on the soft rug near the bed, she spied several plastic storage boxes. Pulling one forward, she unsnapped the top but it was filled with knitting needles and skeins of yarn. This is ridiculous! What the hell am I doing? Angry that she’d allowed herself to suspect her neighbors even though she still had to deal with the knowledge that one of her friends and coworkers had drugs with them, she grabbed one last plastic box from under the bed and yanked it out. Unsnapping the lid, she peered down, and this time, her breath halted in her throat. Oh, Jesus!
Inside were several large plastic bags, each filled with smaller bags packed with white powder. Her hands shook as she stared down at the contents. And while she could not discern what the powder was, she felt for certain she wasn’t looking at baby powder.
Snapping the lid back on, she pushed it back to where she found it. Not wanting to dally any longer, she stood, glanced around to make sure the room looked the way it should, and flipped off the light switch as she went back into the living room. Refusing to let her mind settle on the implications of everything she’d discovered this evening, she cracked open their front door and peeked out, ascertained all was clear, then went out and locked the door carefully behind her.
Tiptoeing toward the main staircase, she heard Terri and Bjorn on the front porch, approaching the front door. Whirling around, she raced to the back door and out onto the porch, pressing herself flat against the wall in the dark.
A grimace settled on her face as she realized she hadn’t needed to run away. I could’ve just kept walking as though I’d come in the back door and gone up the stairs to my apartment. They’d never know I’d been in their apartment! God, I’m such an idiot! Standing on the back porch, she drew in a deep breath to steady her heartbeat and prepared to walk back through as though she’d just arrived home from school. Her hand was on the knob when she heard part of their conversation as they approached their front door.
“Renée said she wasn’t sure.”
“And why the fuck did she send her to her classroom?”
“She had a headache. She wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Wasn’t Jon there? Why the hell didn’t he think?”
“Don’t be pissed at me! I have no idea!”
“What are we going to do about Caitlyn?”
“Jon’s pissed we befriended her and used her since she works at their school.”
“Well, we didn’t know that when we first started using her. Anyway, she’d never suspect.”
“At least not until now.”
Their voices faded away as they moved into their apartment. Caitlyn remained, rooted to the new wooden floor of the back porch, her gaze moving over the beautiful spindles that Griffin had made and Russ had painted. His creative project. Her home. Margaretha’s beloved Victorian. The home to drug dealers transporting their drugs to high school students and who knows who else through their business. More truth slammed into her. They disguise with scents in potpourri, candles, tea, incense. Her chest quaked as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. And I blissfully helped them.
Desperate for the safety of her apartment, when it grew quiet in the hallway, she slipped through the back door, tiptoed past their front door, and hastened toward the stairs leading to the second floor. Just as her foot landed on the bottom step, an arm snatched out and banded around her. Emitting a squeal, the cold edge of a sharp object pressing into her neck sealed off any chance for her to cry out.