One Book in the Grave: A Bibliophile Mystery

worry, and I hated worrying. “You have every right to worry about Emily’s safety. Now finish your dinner.”
     
    “Yes, Mother,” he said, but at least he was half smiling. I really did sound like my mother sometimes, which probably turned off most guys. I glanced at Derek to see his reaction and caught him grinning at me. Proving once again that he wasn’t like most guys.
     
    Max sat and took a few more bites, then threw down his fork again. “Okay, just tell me. Is someone else living there with her?”
     
    So that was the bug that had been crawling up Max’s butt. He’d been worried that Emily might have moved on and found a boyfriend—or, worse, a husband. I couldn’t blame him for being concerned.
     
    “She lives alone,” Gabriel said.
     
    Max’s jaw clenched and he nodded briefly. “Okay.” He took another bite, then frowned at Gabriel. “Just for my own information, tell me what you look for when you go through someone’s house.”
     
    Gabriel shrugged, then sat back in his chair. “The first thing I want to determine is how long it’s been since someone was in the house. There are clues to look for. Dates on milk cartons. Postmarks on a stack of mail. Dishes left out or washed and put away. Emily’s place was neat and tidy. That indicates she didn’t leave suddenly. The mail was postmarked over a week ago, but there was no mail stacked up in her mailbox, which means she arranged for someone to collect it. There was no indication that she left in a hurry or was abducted. She planned to go away.”
     
    Max looked impressed. I know I was. Gabriel was way too good at this sort of thing.
     
    “So for all we know, she could be on a cruise ship somewhere,” I said.
     
    “Possibly,” Gabriel said. “I looked for signs of that, too. Women packing for a vacation often leave clothes hanging out on a doorknob or thrown on the bed. They try on various outfits, then leave the rejects hanging there.”
     
    I stared at him. “You know far too much about women.”
     
    “That’s my job,” he said, grinning.
     
    “What sort of job might that be, mate?” Derek muttered under his breath. Gabriel just smirked.
     
    “So now what?” Max said.
     
    I told them what I’d learned from Crystal about Solomonbeing taught ammo loading and other survivalist skills from Bennie and Stefan in the Hollow.
     
    Max leaned forward. “Maybe it was one of these kids, Bennie or Stefan, who took the shot at us.”
     
    “But it couldn’t be them,” I argued, glancing from Derek to Gabriel. “How could they possibly have eluded you two?”
     
    Gabriel shifted his shoulders philosophically. “It happens.”
     
    “No, it doesn’t,” I said.
     
    “Brooklyn’s right,” Derek said flatly, and looked at Gabriel. “You and I were out there together. There’s no way those two evaded us.” Then he gave Max some background on the survivalists in the Hollow and how, according to my dad, they all kept arsenals in their basements.
     
    “All those people stocking up for World War Three?” Gabriel said. “Not sure we’ll get inside anyone’s house.”
     
    “I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they’ve all got booby traps set up,” I said. “Bennie and Stefan sound like the type who would do that. Crystal called them immature, but they’ve also got intimate knowledge of munitions.”
     
    “Immaturity and ammunition,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “Bad combination.”
     
    “Yes,” Derek said, nodding slowly. “Which is undoubtedly why Solomon decided to use them. For all we know, he might’ve sent them to kill Joe.”
     
    “And flatten my tire with Max’s knife?” The memory of seeing that knife still irritated me. “I just don’t think they’re smart enough to pull that off.”
     
    “It’s just sticking a knife in a tire,” Max said. “How smart do you have to be?”
     
    “But their timing had to be perfect,” I explained. “They had to know I was coming. They had to know my car. They had to plan exactly when to kill Joe and escape out the back door, then vanish into thin air. I know I’m sounding paranoid and persnickety, but I just don’t believe those two could pull off that sort of precision maneuver.”
     
    “I believe you’re right, darling,” Derek said, typing something into his smart phone. “Tomorrow I’ll contact the feds to see if they’ve any information on this local band of survivalists. I’m also interested in that church you