doing paperwork. Even if somebody came to the restaurant—and they obviously did—there’s no way I could have seen anything.”
“But you knew when Sophie and I got here.”
It wasn’t my imagination—his shoulders did get rigid. “I did,” he admitted. “But only because I happened to go up to the cash register to check on the day’s receipts and I saw the lights turn on.”
It was certainly an explanation. And a mighty convenient one at that. I told myself not to forget it and said, “There were no lights on when we got here. Which means Jack Lancer was here in the dark.”
“In the dark. With a killer.” Declan gave this some thought. “It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
“It does if Jack and whoever he was with didn’t want to be noticed. But why here?” As if it might actually help me make sense of the situation, I looked all around, but there was nothing in the faded decor that explained why a TV reporter would break into the Terminal in the middle of the night. “Why did you think Owen might be here?” I asked Declan. “I mean, besides the fact that he’s a troublemaker. Why here?”
Declan walked along the front of the restaurant. Here, there were three tables in front of the windows that met the wall of the waiting area. There were another two tables against that wall and two more across from them. The one nearest to where I stood was where I’d found Jack. Just like in the larger part of the restaurant, there were more posters on the walls here, more photographs, and an old railway timetable that had been matted and framed. When Declan got as far as the waiting room wall, he swung around and came back the other way.
“The last place I saw Owen yesterday—I mean, before I saw him being led away in handcuffs—was at Kitty’s,” he said. “That was around six in the evening. He’d spent the day with me over at the shop unloading a truck and helping me check in some new inventory. He was supposed to leavemy place, stop and say good night to Kitty, then go to my parents’ for dinner, and when he didn’t show up, my mother called. She was not a happy camper. She’d made salmon because she knows it’s Owen’s favorite and she said the meal was time-sensitive and that’s why she was worried, but I knew the real reason she called. She knew Owen not showing up meant he was in some kind of trouble. He’s that kind of kid. I walked down the street and didn’t see any sign of him in any of the other shops. Honestly, I thought he might be out boosting cars. Or doing some serious underage drinking. When I saw you and Sophie come into the Terminal, I wondered if you’d gotten a call about a break-in and I figured it was worth checking to see what was up.”
“Owen must have still been hanging around when Sophie and I got here.” This was a no-brainer, but I mentioned it anyway. Talking through the scenario helped me keep it straight in my head. “Otherwise the cops wouldn’t have found him hiding out back.”
“Agreed.”
“And Owen admits he was here for the copper?”
Declan made a face. “Owen doesn’t admit anything. But he doesn’t deny it, either.”
“Did he happen to say if he ever came inside the building?”
“He said he might have taken a look around. His words exactly, ‘I
might
have taken a look around.’”
It was all I needed to hear. I started back to the kitchen.
When I found the door that led into the basement, Declan was right behind me. There was an old umbrella stand in front of the door and I tried to lift it and realized that it weighed a ton. Together, Declan and I dragged it to one side and scrambled down the steps.
According to the historical marker sign out front, theTerminal was built in 1889 and my guess is that nobody had bothered to update—or for that matter, clean—the basement since. It was a big, rectangular room built from huge sandstone blocks that held in the cold and the moisture.
I shivered and hugged my arms around
“But you knew when Sophie and I got here.”
It wasn’t my imagination—his shoulders did get rigid. “I did,” he admitted. “But only because I happened to go up to the cash register to check on the day’s receipts and I saw the lights turn on.”
It was certainly an explanation. And a mighty convenient one at that. I told myself not to forget it and said, “There were no lights on when we got here. Which means Jack Lancer was here in the dark.”
“In the dark. With a killer.” Declan gave this some thought. “It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
“It does if Jack and whoever he was with didn’t want to be noticed. But why here?” As if it might actually help me make sense of the situation, I looked all around, but there was nothing in the faded decor that explained why a TV reporter would break into the Terminal in the middle of the night. “Why did you think Owen might be here?” I asked Declan. “I mean, besides the fact that he’s a troublemaker. Why here?”
Declan walked along the front of the restaurant. Here, there were three tables in front of the windows that met the wall of the waiting area. There were another two tables against that wall and two more across from them. The one nearest to where I stood was where I’d found Jack. Just like in the larger part of the restaurant, there were more posters on the walls here, more photographs, and an old railway timetable that had been matted and framed. When Declan got as far as the waiting room wall, he swung around and came back the other way.
“The last place I saw Owen yesterday—I mean, before I saw him being led away in handcuffs—was at Kitty’s,” he said. “That was around six in the evening. He’d spent the day with me over at the shop unloading a truck and helping me check in some new inventory. He was supposed to leavemy place, stop and say good night to Kitty, then go to my parents’ for dinner, and when he didn’t show up, my mother called. She was not a happy camper. She’d made salmon because she knows it’s Owen’s favorite and she said the meal was time-sensitive and that’s why she was worried, but I knew the real reason she called. She knew Owen not showing up meant he was in some kind of trouble. He’s that kind of kid. I walked down the street and didn’t see any sign of him in any of the other shops. Honestly, I thought he might be out boosting cars. Or doing some serious underage drinking. When I saw you and Sophie come into the Terminal, I wondered if you’d gotten a call about a break-in and I figured it was worth checking to see what was up.”
“Owen must have still been hanging around when Sophie and I got here.” This was a no-brainer, but I mentioned it anyway. Talking through the scenario helped me keep it straight in my head. “Otherwise the cops wouldn’t have found him hiding out back.”
“Agreed.”
“And Owen admits he was here for the copper?”
Declan made a face. “Owen doesn’t admit anything. But he doesn’t deny it, either.”
“Did he happen to say if he ever came inside the building?”
“He said he might have taken a look around. His words exactly, ‘I
might
have taken a look around.’”
It was all I needed to hear. I started back to the kitchen.
When I found the door that led into the basement, Declan was right behind me. There was an old umbrella stand in front of the door and I tried to lift it and realized that it weighed a ton. Together, Declan and I dragged it to one side and scrambled down the steps.
According to the historical marker sign out front, theTerminal was built in 1889 and my guess is that nobody had bothered to update—or for that matter, clean—the basement since. It was a big, rectangular room built from huge sandstone blocks that held in the cold and the moisture.
I shivered and hugged my arms around
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