Ink and Shadows(Secret, Book, & Scone Society #4)(75)

Using white tissue paper as a backdrop, Nora took a dozen photos of Juliana’s notebook.

When she was done, she wrapped the book in the tissue paper and held it out to McCabe.

“This is a piece of history. It belonged to Celeste. It should have been passed on to Bren. Generations of women from the same family wrote in this book. Can you imagine all that it’s seen—and survived—between the time of its first entry and today? It traveled from Germany to America. From Alabama to North Carolina. And God knows where else. Please be careful with it.”

“I’ll keep it safe,” McCabe replied solemnly. “I promise.” Outside, the sheriff locked the back door and Nora stared at Greg’s graffiti in disgust.

She then glanced up at the second-story windows and realized that Celeste had been in her bedroom while Greg had been spray-painting those scarlet letters.

McCabe turned to go, but Nora caught him by the arm and pointed at the door. “If Celeste was still alive when I found her, and I saw Greg Knapp right here before I went upstairs, then how did the killer get out of the building without running into Greg or me?”

“The spare store key is missing, so we’re assuming the killer used the front door. We can’t be sure because there’s no alarm system or security camera, which is par for the course around here. I love the trusting nature of the folks in this town. Until something like this happens.”

They walked around the building and paused on the corner. McCabe needed to cross the street and turn north. Miracle Books was in the opposite direction.

The town was wide awake, and the sidewalks were no longer deserted, so Nora stepped closer to the sheriff and said, “Beck should come to Miracle Books. He’s bound to scope out the meeting place beforehand, and there’s nothing threatening about a bookshop.”

“Even the ones with powerful female window displays?” McCabe teased.

“It’s finally down. But only because we needed a new theme for November. Luckily, Sheldon came up with one that was a snap to get ready and should win over even my harshest critics.” Nora gave him a smile before turning serious again. “Wolf must have been watching Celeste’s building. He probably saw me visiting her, which means he wouldn’t be surprised to hear that I have her book. He’ll come to the meeting thinking he has the upper hand. After all, I’m just another woman—someone he can easily overpower. Let me be a part of this, Grant. I was too late to help Celeste before she died. I want to help catch her killer.”

McCabe’s look was steely. “This man is dangerous, Nora. And sly. He won’t waltz into the bookstore in the middle of storytime. He’ll want to meet at night, so he can get take off the second he has the book. He’ll be on edge the whole time. Anything could trigger him.” He lowered his voice. “Despite the efforts of Fuentes and Wiggins, we still know next to nothing about Wolf Beck. The Pine Hollow residents rarely interact with him, and the Still Waters residents praised him to the moon and back. He has no criminal record. Without a search warrant, we can’t access his financial records. And without concrete evidence, we can’t get a search warrant.”

Everything hangs on the book, Nora thought.

“I know that he’s dangerous. He killed two women. But I wouldn’t be alone. You and your team could hide somewhere, like the stockroom, and listen to the whole meeting. I’m the only one who can talk books with this man. No one else has a chance of getting him to open up about the Potion Page. If I don’t find a way to push his buttons, he’ll get away with murder.”

McCabe studied Nora for a long moment. “I’ll get back to you about the meeting. Call me if Ms. Rabinowitz hooks our fish.”

The traffic light turned red, and McCabe jogged across the street, pressing the book against his chest.

Nora watched him disappear into the crowd. Then she walked over to the Juliana statue. Ignoring the people passing behind her, Nora stood for a long moment admiring the marble woman’s erect bearing and intelligent gaze. The defiant tilt of her chin. The November sunlight washed over her pale face, gilding her skin and adding sparks to her carved eyes.

Covering Juliana’s cold, stone hand with her own, Nora silently vowed to settle the score. She then hurried on to the bookshop.

*

“Did you forget that I’m fluent in German?” Bobbie asked later that day.

She’d already sent the images—using a VPN to disguise her IP address—to Monkshood81 and was anxiously awaiting his reply. And while Nora shared her friend’s anxiety, she’d spent the last two hours selling books. Bobbie had spent that time manically refreshing her email.

“I know you speak several languages, but I don’t remember which ones,” Nora said.

She took a bite of cucumber salad and waited for Bobbie to keep talking. Sheldon was covering the checkout counter while Nora gulped down her lunch in the stockroom.

“My German isn’t as good as my Spanish, French, or Italian, but it’s good enough for me to tell that Juliana Leopold was no witch. Neither were her descendants. Every woman who wrote in that book was a healer. Like other herbals of the time period, Juliana’s notebook includes illustrations. It also teaches the reader how to grow, dry, and store the plants. It’s an instructional manual, a how-to guide on turning plants into medicine and then matching that medicine to the right symptom. I also saw a recipe for a healing soup. I think the original Juliana figured out the secret of chicken soup hundreds of years before anyone else.”