Free Stolen by Jordan Gray Page A

few days, but I can’t reach him on his mobile. Maybe Joyce Abernathy knows where he is….”
    Michael reached out and caught her hand, pulling her back. She looked up at him, her free hand resting on his shoulder as if they were dancing.
    â€œNo way, big guy. I’ve got a full day. You’re not going to act all cute and distract me.”
    Delicately, Michael smoothed her hair behind one ear. “Don’t tempt me, love. I can be quite distracting when I choose to be.” He smiled playfully, but the effort wasn’t completely convincing.
    As if sensing his somber mood, Molly touched his chin with a forefinger. “Yes, you can.”
    â€œI don’t know what’s up and about with your project, love. But be careful.”
    Molly studied him. “Where did all this nervousness come from?”
    â€œIt started in the alley last night.” Michael felt a chill steal up his spine. “Then the break-in, and Crowe brought more of it this morning. Frankly, it doesn’t seem to be going away.” He paused. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
    â€œI’m a big girl. My uncle’s a detective. I was his favorite niece. He gave me a pair of handcuffs when I was five. I can take care of myself.”
    â€œI’d rather you didn’t have to take care of yourself.”
    â€œMy hero.” Molly teased him with her smile. Then she glanced at her watch. “Sorry. I’ve really got to be going. I’ll be fine, but if I need you, I’ll call. Have fun with your mermaids.”
    Reluctantly, Michael released her and watched her walk away. He glanced back at the gate where Crowe’s car had vanished.
    Real life wasn’t like a video game. Not everything was a clue. Not everything was foreshadowing of something else. Coincidences—and murders—did happen and didn’t touch on anything else.
    Michael wasn’t happy thinking that. He felt something was missing that was important. He just had no idea what it was.

CHAPTER NINE
    T HE GOOD THING ABOUT Blackpool’s general population depending largely on bicycles and walking to get around was the lack of competition for parking spaces. The downside was that few parking places existed. Thankfully the Blackpool Library had a handful of them tucked at the rear of the building.
    Michael parked his dusty Land Rover, got out, stretched, then reached inside for his computer bag. The drive into town wasn’t overly long, but he’d gotten knotted up in his thoughts. They’d been more twisted than the shore road and he hadn’t had company to keep his mind from obsessing. He felt his back protest after the tension of the drive. He really needed to go for a run or bike ride.
    But neither was on his agenda at the moment. He’d tried mucking about with the new game, tinkering with Keith’s illustrations, but he hadn’t been able to focus on anything other than the train robbery and the potential trouble Molly could find herself in.
    The library sat on a hill overlooking the bay. In past days, as Mrs. Hirschfield, the librarian, was fond of saying, there had been a scaffold on the site. For a while it had been used to hang pirates, then to hang those men who hunted pirates. And occasionally whoever else bothered someone in power.
    Mrs. Hirschfield wasn’t sure when the scaffold had been torn down or what had become of it, but the legendpersisted. Liam McKenna often brought tours to the site, and some of the local kids experimented with Ouija boards and séances at night. A few claimed to have seen the dead wandering around the hills.
    Michael crossed the crushed-seashell parking area toward the front door. Like the police station, the library had once been a family home and had been remodeled. This house was a lot larger, a rambling affair that was still hard to heat in the winter. Many of the walls had been removed to make bigger rooms, which were then filled