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He disappeared into the pantry and returned with the dustpan and brush to sweep up the pieces.
Abby thought about the past couple of months. Sure, she’d been pretty peeved when she learned the Ericksons were going to expand the pier and block her store’s view of the beach. The view was the main reason she’d chosen the location for her shop. Only after signing a two-year lease did she fully grasp the extent of the renovation.
And sure, she’d banded together with the Egg Harbor Beach Preservation Group, who helped her understand her rights and proposed protesting with a few other business owners to make their point.
But for Connor to think she’d break into the pier while it was being renovated, destroy property, and paint childish words was beyond ridiculous.
It was insulting.
“Here.” Connor put something in her hand. “Put this wet paper towel on your foot.”
“Fuck my damn toe.” She pushed away. “Do you really think I’m capable of vandalism?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then why did you practically accuse me?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I found the paint in there, and it seemed an odd coincidence you’d have paint the same color. Then I saw the newspaper article, and I didn’t know what to think.”
“So, you assumed the worst of me?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
Except it was completely like that.
“You’re supposed to believe in me. How can we build a relationship if you think I’m capable of something like this?”
“Abby, I didn’t think. I just spoke. I’m an ass.”
She crossed her arms. “No argument there.”
She racked her brain but couldn’t for the life of her figure out where the paint had come from. Could Natalie be involved?
“I think you should call the cops,” Connor said.
“The cops?” Abby shrieked.
“Let Ethan know. He’s been gathering evidence on the other vandalism. He told me when I dropped off the necklace I found.”
“What necklace?”
“I didn’t tell you? I found it at the museum site yesterday. A stainless-steel chain with a baseball charm on it.”
Abby’s blood ran cold.
Connor continued, “Oh, and the letter P, for the Phillies, on the baseball.”
No, no, no. It can’t be. Not sweet Liam. Please no.
Abby remembered Liam got caught a couple of days ago smoking a joint at the mini-golf place. Had he and his friends been working their way through the town, playing childish pranks?
Connor’s cell dinged with a text. “Fuck, I’m late.”
“You should go. I’ll clean this up,” Abby said.
“What about the paint?”
“I’ll deal with it, and call Ethan.”
