pointed to the room she’d been standing outside of then rushed down the stairs. Rhett swung himself down the hall past the room Isabelle was supposed to be preparing for him and pushed open the door Violet had indicated. Isabelle was peering into a box as she sat in the middle of the room with a full bottle of whisky in one hand and a bottle of gin in the other. She set them aside and glanced up, clearly expecting to see Violet for her green eyes widened upon meeting his. “Rhett, what are you doing here? What did you do with my lookout?”
“I sent her downstairs because your ma was looking for her. A better question is what are you doing in here?”
“I’m searching for the bracelet, of course.” She nudged a few things around in the box. “All the boarders are at work except for Gabe. He works in his room, but he’s so focused that he hardly notices anything.”
“You do know it’s getting close to supper, don’t you? The other boarders will be back any minute.”
“That’s all right. I’m done here.” Giving the box one more cursory look, she replaced the bottles before sliding it under the bed. “I may not have found the bracelet, but this stash of liquor doesn’t speak well for Hank’s integrity. He knows it’s against the rules to have it here.”
Rhett tensed when he heard the sound of the front door opening followed by male voices. “Isabelle, someone’s here.”
She jumped up from the floor. “Head toward the stairs.”
He backed up and nearly stumbled over his crutches in his haste. Righting himself, his crutches clacked a quick rhythm on the hardwood floor as Isabelle closed Hank’s door and locked it. The voices grew louder. A fleeting touch of Isabelle’s hand on his back was the only warning he received before she slid to a stop in front of him. He channeled his forward momentum into a hop. She braced her hands against his chest to keep him from mowing her down. Footsteps sounded on the stairs. He planted his crutches on the ground and had just stopped swaying when a man reached the top of the stairs.
Isabelle released him and reached for the doorknob. “Rhett, this will be your room. Oh, hello, Hank.”
“Isabelle.” A man with gunmetal-gray eyes and light brown hair grinned at her before extending a hand to Rhett. “I’ve seen you around town, but I don’t think we’ve officially met. You must be Rhett Granger.”
Rhett shook his hand. “I am. And you’re Hank.”
“Yep. Hank Abernathy. It’s a pity about the fire.” The man glanced down to the spot where Isabelle’s hands hand been an instant ago. He lifted an eyebrow and his smile turned a bit sly. “Glad to see you’re doing all right.”
“Thank you.”
The stiffness of Rhett’s response didn’t seem to bother Hank. The man tipped an imaginary hat. “See y’all at supper.”
Rhett waited until the door closed behind Hank to meet Isabelle’s gaze. As one, they sagged in relief. He lowered his head and whispered, “I don’t like him.”
“Oh, he’s not so bad,” she whispered back, then grimaced. “At least, I don’t think he is. The liquor smuggling does give me pause.”
Rhett heard the footsteps on the stairs and suddenly realized how close they were standing. He straightened. Isabelle stepped back. They were both a second too late. Although he hadn’t exchanged more than a few passing pleasantries with the man walking toward them, Peppin was small enough for Rhett to know his name was Wesley Brice and he worked at the T&P Railway in some capacity. Isabelle greeted him. He nodded in return, but pinned Rhett with a steely glare before entering a room down the hall.
Tilting her head, Isabelle bit her lip. “I have an idea. How about I go downstairs before we get into any more
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