Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Franco arched a white eyebrow. “Why would anybody want to blow up the shop?”
“Maybe to hide the theft?” I asked. “It sounds like they didn’t know what they were doing with the dynamite. Like maybe they were goofing off.” This entire thing felt odd—more like a prank than a real danger. Except for that dynamite. “Could this be kids messing around?”
“If it is, they’re gonna regret it,” Bampa boomed from the doorway.
Nana jumped, partially stood, and turned. “Oh, Connor, can you believe it?” Her eyes filled.
Bampa was across the room in a second, reaching for her. He was just as big as she was petite, with dark red hair streaked liberally with gray and intense green eyes. “It’s okay, lass. The rumors about the theft are already all over town. We’ll find whoever took your boxes and make them regret it.” He pulled her close. “I’ve got ya, girl.” His Irish brogue was more pronounced than hers, and his voice louder than pretty much anybody’s. He winked at me over her head. “Anna will help find those boxes, right?”
I nodded—nobody said no to Bampa. “Of course.”
He looked at the sheriff. “Why didn’t you call me? She’s been here for nearly two hours.”
Had it been that long? Wow.
Nana patted his arm. “Now, Connor. Don’t you worry about it. Anna’s here with me, and I didn’t want to interrupt your time with your brothers.”
“You should’ve called,” Bampa said, pressing a kiss to her head before focusing on the sheriff again. “I’ve already heard about the theft and dynamite. Couldn’t get close to the shop, though. It’s cordoned off. For now, have you dealt with this pie malarkey?”
How sweet was he to be just as worried about the pie contest as the explosion? Sometimes my grandparents surprised me.
“Still working on it,” Franco said. “More worried about the dynamite. For now, do you have any enemies, Fiona?”
Bampa snorted. “Of course not. Well, except for Gloria Walton, of course.” He patted Nana’s back with his large mitt. “She’s still yelling about the lotion.”
Of course she was.
Franco grimaced. “Tell me somebody else could’ve messed with her pie.”
Nana pulled her face out of Bampa’s barrel of a chest. “I don’t see how. I have the only key to the new refrigerator.” She sniffled. “We put a lock on it the second we got it so this couldn’t happen.” She leaned back to look at Bampa. “I just don’t know how anybody could’ve gotten in.”
Well, wonderful.
Franco swallowed. “Any other enemies?”
“No,” Nana said.
I stiffened out of instinct. “Sheriff?”
He cleared his throat. “What about Elda Albertini? You two have been at odds forever, and I believe she and Gloria don’t really like each other. Something about Gloria cheating at bingo a decade ago?”
I rapidly shook my head. “Nonna tried to defend Nana earlier.”
“Exactly. That was weird,” Franco said.
Um, true. That had been really odd.
“Maybe Elda was trying to throw us off?” Franco asked, paling as he did so. Nobody wanted to tick off both of my grandmothers at once.
“Not a chance,” I muttered, my heart thundering. Nonna was more of a smack you upside the head with a spoon type than someone into subterfuge.
Franco’s phone buzzed and he lifted it to his ear. “Franco.” He nodded and clicked off. “The explosive unit from Spokane has arrived and assessed the scene. Apparently they’re going to transport the dynamite to a demolition range to set off. It’s too unstable to do anything else with.”
“Did they identify the source of the dynamite?” I asked.
“Aiden didn’t say.” Franco sat back. “All right, Fiona. Let’s start at the beginning.”
Chapter 3
I settled into the passenger seat of Aiden truck as he drove us over the pass toward Timber City, happy he’d returned to Idaho the night before. The sky hung low and black, the kind that promised more rain before morning. For a while, neither of us spoke. The wipers beat a steady rhythm, and I watched the drops streak down the glass, blurring the headlights from the oncoming traffic on I-90.
I took a deep breath and asked quietly, “You don’t think someone tried to hurt my grandmother, do you?”
“No.” Aiden’s reply was short, his voice low and certain. His hands stayed steady on the wheel, knuckles pale in the dashboard glow. “I think they wanted to destroy the shop, though.”
I pushed my damp hair out of my face and tried to shake off the chill. The heat blasted against my boots, and for the first time in hours, I felt almost safe. Drowsiness crept in with the sound of the wipers. “Do you think maybe someone spiked the pie as a diversion so they could steal the nugget boxes?”
He reached over and turned up the heat. “It’s a thought. But then why set off the dynamite? That brought attention to the scene right away.”
“That’s true.” My gaze drifted toward the side window, where the rain blurred the forest into smudges of silver and black. “I can’t figure out how anybody got into the refrigerator at the Elks—or into Nana’s place.”