Page 36 of Shadowed Witness (The Secrets of Kincaid #2)

Telling her mom was easier than Allye anticipated.

She’d opted to go it alone, despite both Bryce and Corina offering to accompany her.

As it turned out, she’d had to settle for a phone call anyway because her mom was doing a showing out of town and wouldn’t be home until late afternoon.

She supposed she could have waited, but she’d been afraid to take any chances.

Like Bryce and Corina, Mom had been more concerned about Allye than about herself. And while she hadn’t been at all convinced that Mayor Jennings was somehow involved, she’d agreed not to say anything that might impede an investigation.

It felt like a huge weight had lifted with that phone call. Her problems hadn’t gone away, but the burden of secrecy was gone. She hadn’t realized how heavy it had been.

Now she had to figure out what to do with herself for the rest of the day. While a fresh pot of tea steeped on her counter, she evaluated her options.

She should go to her studio and get some work done. Maybe print off those extra postcards to add to her festival booth. Although she’d lost a lot of her recent photos when her primary camera was destroyed, the ones from the Spicebush Trail were on a different memory card.

She should have printed them earlier this week, but she’d been too preoccupied with everything going on to make it to her studio.

As she removed the infuser basket from her teapot, a touch of panic settled on her at the thought of returning alone to where this whole mess had started.

Was she even safe there? Being alone at home with her new locks was one thing.

But at the studio, she’d be exposed both on the stairwell and in the alley.

A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. She groaned and set the tea leaves aside. As much as she loved people, it felt like her house had a revolving door today.

She nudged back the curtain blocking the window. Her neighbor smiled and held up a container. Allye quickly disengaged the locks and opened the door. “Shannon! Come on in.”

“Hi, Allye. I’ve been in a baking mood and got a little carried away, considering there’s only two of us in the house now that Tyler’s away at college. Would you be interested in some cookies?”

“I can always use cookies.” She motioned for Shannon to follow her to the kitchen. “You have time to stay a few minutes? I just made a pot of tea, or I can put on coffee if you’d prefer that.”

“Tea sounds wonderful.”

Allye selected two rose-patterned teacups and matching dessert plates for the cookies. When she turned back to her guest, she paused at sight of the frown on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you have a mold problem?”

Allye blinked. “Mold?”

“It smells the tiniest bit musty in here. There’s been a similar odor at our place, and we haven’t been able to pin down exactly where it’s coming from.”

“I haven’t seen anything.” Or smelled it either.

Shannon quirked her lips to the side and tapped her nose as if she’d heard Allye’s silent addendum. “I have a strong smeller. My husband sometimes calls me the bloodhound.”

“I’ll keep my eye out.”

“Thanks. I asked Cornell to pick up a test kit on his way home from work this morning, but he forgot. I plan to run to the drugstore later and see if they have any in stock, but if not, it’ll be back on his to-do list for tomorrow.

” She set the container on the table and popped the lid.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, but my allergies have been on overdrive almost since we moved in. Mold is one of my triggers.”

“Let me know what you find out, if you don’t mind. Maybe it would help explain my migraines.” Finding an answer to even one of her symptoms would be a win.

As she poured the steaming amber liquid into their cups, a classical waltz blared from her phone. Eric. She flushed and sent the call to voice mail. She needed to change his ringtone to something less enjoyable. Maybe an old-fashioned funeral dirge?

She pushed Shannon’s cup toward her and eyed the cookies. “Chocolate chip?”

Her neighbor’s eyes sparkled. “Dark chocolate chip.”

“Even better.” Allye helped herself to one. She bit into the still-warm cookie and allowed a soft moan to escape. “These are good .”

“They’re Cornell’s favorite.”

“I can see why.”

Shannon took a cookie for herself. “Did the cops ever catch the guy who broke into your house the other night?”

How much of the investigation should she divulge? She chewed slowly, then took a sip of tea. “No,” she said, deciding to keep it simple. “His identity is still a mystery.”

Shannon shivered. “That’s freaky.”

That was a good word for it. She still hadn’t figured out what that break-in had accomplished, but everything else going on had pushed it to the back of her mind.

Eric’s ringtone interrupted them again. Again, she rejected the call . “Sorry about that.” She shot her guest an apologetic smile, though everything in her wanted to cry.

“No worries. You could have answered it.”

“Not someone I wanted to talk to right now anyway.”

What had they been discussing? She blinked. Whatever it was, it was gone. She sighed. Hopefully, it wasn’t important.

Her phone dinged with a text. A quick glance showed it was from Eric.

Are you okay?

She considered ignoring it, but the last thing she wanted was for him to show up banging on her door again. Her emotions couldn’t handle seeing him again right now.

I’m fine.

After sending the text, she snoozed the conversation and tried to focus on her guest, but her concentration was blown. When her phone went off again a few minutes later—this time with her mom’s designated ringtone—Shannon stood.

“I’ll let you answer that. I need to see about getting that test kit.” She set her teacup by the sink. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Anytime. Thank you for the cookies.” Allye waved and snatched her phone. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hey. I didn’t think I was going to get you.”

“Sorry, I was in the middle of something. What’s going on?” She heard her front door close behind Shannon.

“Just checking to make sure you’re doing all right.”

She barely suppressed a sigh. It had only been a couple of hours since they talked. This was one of the reasons she’d been hesitant to admit her health issues.

“Everything’s fine.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I think my neighbor just told me my house stinks.”

Throaty laughter filtered through the line. “What does that mean?”

“She asked me if I have a mold problem.”

Her mom’s voice turned serious. “Do you?”

“I’m not aware of one.”

“You should check. I know you don’t own your place, but it’s something you should be proactive about.”

“My neighbor said they’re running some sort of test for it.”

“Good.”

They chatted about other things for a few minutes, but then her mom turned the conversation back to her home.

“When Corina’s side of the duplex flooded last year, did you have your side inspected?”

“No need to. Nothing got in.” The way the ground slanted in front of the duplex, Corina’s door was practically even with the ground while Allye’s required a few steps to get inside.

Her half had stayed dry, and Corina’s ended up with three inches of water, requiring the landlord to repaint several walls and replace the carpet.

Or at least, that had been the plan before her stalker trashed it, requiring a more extensive remodel.

“How long was it between the flood and when Mr. Bright did the repairs? I seem to remember him dragging his feet.”

Allye massaged her forehead. “I can’t remember. Why?”

Her mom was quiet for a few seconds, and Allye could picture her pursing her lips. “I’m just wondering if mold might have gotten into the walls between your units or into your basement.”

“It’s possible I guess, but that was over a year ago.”

“Exactly.”

“And your point is...?” She let her words trail off, hoping her mom would elaborate. Whatever she was getting at should be obvious, but Allye wasn’t following. She hated this brain fog.

“Mold spreads. Untreated, the problem gets worse, not better. If you’ve been breathing in increasing quantities of mold spores for the past year, that could be a factor in your illness.”

Allye propped the phone between her ear and shoulder and began prerinsing her dishes. “Mom, I don’t have allergies. I’m having MS-like symptoms.” Except it wasn’t MS.

“I’ve dealt with mold-infested homes,” her mom insisted. “Mold doesn’t devalue properties just because it’s ugly or irritates aller gies. It can lead to serious health issues. Just consider it, okay? Maybe do a little research when you have time.”

She sighed. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Good. Listen, I expect to finish work early today. Is there anything I can bring you? I don’t mind swinging by the grocery or grabbing takeout.”

“I have everything I need, but thanks.”

“Anything I can help with on the festival prep?”

“The only thing left to do is load everything into my car and do the actual setup tomorrow morning. I can handle that.”

“If you’re sure. But let me know if you change your mind or think of anything I can do, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Well, I’ll let you go, then.” She sounded reluctant to hang up. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Mom. Talk to you later.”

She set her phone aside. Exhaustion pummeled her again. She could probably head to bed right now and take another nap, but she was afraid she wouldn’t sleep tonight if she did. And she had to sleep tonight—the festival started tomorrow.

Going to her studio wasn’t going to happen either though, at least not right now. She sighed again. Since she’d promised her mom to research mold issues, she could run a quick internet search while she was thinking about it. Might as well get it over with.

Grabbing another of Shannon’s cookies, she moved to the living room and powered up her laptop. As soon as the search browser loaded, she typed in mold illness and hit enter. Her screen filled with results. She scrolled down and saw that more pages were available.

Oof. She wasn’t expecting that. Where to even start? She scrolled back up and clicked on one that looked promising.

Forty-five minutes later, she emerged from research into mold allergies and toxicity.

Maybe the possibility wasn’t as far a reach as she’d assumed.

While not all of her symptoms fit neatly within the mold-toxicity box and there were a few common ones she didn’t have, the similarity between what she read and her experience was striking.

Were they grasping at straws? Maybe. But it was worth looking into—if for nothing else than to rule it out.

Still, she quashed the hope attempting to rise inside her.

She’d wait for the results from whatever test her neighbors were running.

If it came back negative, maybe she’d test her studio.

But if it was positive? She eyed the screen.

If it was positive, she’d need to look further into this.