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He put his phone away. A firestorm of texts, and now Dean planned to stop by? Bailey hummed, wishing she knew if there was an update.
Grace gestured to the woman beside her. “This is my friend Alicia. She’s our librarian.”
“New librarian,” Alicia added. “New town. New friends. A lot of new. I’ve heard a lot about you, being temporarily new to town, but no one told me that we have matching glasses.”
Matt balanced on his toes. “They’re not matching.”
Alicia tapped the frames. “Mine are red. Yours are red.” She tilted her head, as if she didn’t understand.
“Yours are shiny.”
“Oh, they are a little shiny, aren’t they?”
“A lot shiny!”
“Glittery.” Alicia preened in a way that made everyone laugh. “A little different. But not by much. Nice to meet you, Bailey. I’m glad you could stop by.”
Matt tugged her hand. “There’s dogs in the library.” His whisper sounded as if he’d stumbled upon a secret he couldn’t share out loud.
“Cats too,” Alicia whispered back, “if you look carefully.” She pointed toward the hall. “They like to hide in my office upstairs.”
Matt pushed his glasses up his nose. “Grace’s dog can walk on its back feet.”
“Oh, here we go,” Grace laughed.
Alicia hooted. “My dogs taught Pickles everything he knows. Everything.”
Matt’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yup. Come on. I’ll show you what they can do. Let’s go hide before Mr. Dean shows up and drives me bonkers.”
Grace rolled her eyes. Wes shook his head. Bailey was out of the loop and would add that to her list of questions for him when they were alone.
As soon as Matt and Alicia disappeared upstairs, Dean walked in. With a lift of his chin, he scanned the space. “Where can we sit down and talk?”
“Hello to you too, my friend.” Grace pointed toward the hall. “There are a couple of study rooms down the hall.”
Bailey followed Wes and Dean to the small rooms. Each had a small worktable and four chairs. Dean chose the first one, and Bailey shut the door behind her. Neither man sat down, but she did. Her knee bounced under the table, and her breathing seemed too quick. Dean had news, and he didn’t look happy.
Wes stood beside her, arms crossed. “What couldn’t you text me?”
“I pulled the dates you sent me. You know, the first, second, third, yada, yada.”
She nodded. Her stomach turned. “And?”
“I found a match on the dates. Another sorority girl on the fifth and a male tutor, eerily like the bio major, on the sixth. There’s no rhyme or reason to the months except none of the dates are less than a year apart.”
“That’s a pattern,” Wes muttered.
“Somewhat.” Dean frowned.
“You’re saying…” One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eleven. Bailey reached for Wes. “Caitie could have been killed by…what? A serial killer?”
Dean clocked the handhold. “The MO and victimology are all over the place, yet semi-consistent. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen. Nothing on the eighth or ninth yet.”
“It’s only additional information,” Wes said. “Anything else is speculation.”
Dean nodded and sat across from her. “Coincidence does not equal causation. There are a lot of differences. Natalie O’Malley wasn’t even in the same state.” He tilted his head toward Wes, silently asking him to sit with them, then laid a manila envelope on the table. “This is what I have on the victims. They’re all cold cases. No one’s connected any of them. Except now we know both men were missing their glasses.”
