href="#uc5e7f985-d6be-5eb6-8d6e-ea871a26d565"> Chapter 14
Something was wrong in Silver Valley, Pennsylvania, but Portia DiNapoli couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t the weather, which had been hellacious since Christmas. She couldn’t remember such a cold, snowy winter since her childhood. And it wasn’t the stress of putting together the town’s largest charity event, the gala to raise funds for the library she ran and the homeless shelter where she volunteered many hours. If she thought about it deeply enough, the sense of doom had more to do with the story she’d read in the Harrisburg newspaper that proclaimed the area was under siege from Russian Organized Crime. Silver Valley had been named as the center of ROC’s efforts to move everything from illicit drugs to weapons. It struck at her heart, because Silver Valley was where she’d lived her entire life.
Although right now, having to dress in several layers to go anywhere in town, it was hard to believe even ROC could run criminal operations from here. Silver Valley had turned into a frozen tundra from the relentless winter.
She’d arrived three hours before opening to work at the Silver Valley Library. She needed the time to work on the gala, which was now less than a month away. And she loved the quiet of the historical building, the way it always felt like a warm hug, even in the January predawn hours. Pennsylvania remained gripped by the tenacious hand of a polar vortex; arctic air had mercilessly swept the state and frozen everything in its wake. More surface area of the Susquehanna River was frozen than ever previously recorded.
It took her a full two minutes to unwrap from her layers of winter protection. She’d opted to walk the few blocks from her small apartment, even in the cold. Portia loved the four seasons and especially winter, but even she was relieved to be inside the warm building and not on the icy streets.
As she settled into her spot behind the main circulation desk, she tried to let the library’s familiarity soothe her, but to no avail. What was different this Monday morning from all the others she’d spent in the facility? Her week had started out great with her usual walk to work, she’d had a great cup of coffee at the local shop in the building next to her apartment and there weren’t any pesky emails from the central library staff demanding her attention. But she couldn’t shake the sense of danger, the feeling that made her skin crawl and her stomach churn.
This had to stop.
Besides reading about ROC, she’d spent too much time learning about the fight Pennsylvania was waging against the heroin epidemic, finding out that Silver Valley had more than its share of opioid ODs and near-ODs. Since one of her closest friends from high school had become a victim of a lethal dose of heroin laced with fentanyl right before Christmas, Portia had questioned everything about her life and the community she held dear.
She resolved to get lost in the more positive aspects of her job and clicked open the gala files. Reviewing the guest list to date led to perusing the silent auction items, which always buoyed her spirits. The generosity of the average Silver Valley citizen touched her pragmatic heart.
“Portia.”
Portia jumped in her seat, startled by the sudden appearance of Brindle, her assistant.
Brindle had joined the staff while still pursuing her undergraduate degree at Penn State, Harrisburg and now was on to postgraduate work.
“What are you doing here so early? And, ah, good morning.”
Brindle’s mouth twisted into an apologetic grimace. “It’s not that early.”
Portia looked at the clock. She’d been here for two hours already?
“Sorry to startle you, but I had to get out of my sister’s house. Her baby was up all night, and I have two exams this week. I’ve been at the diner since four, and I was hoping you were in early today. I left my car in their lot and walked over.” Brindle knew that Portia came in early many days, especially in January, during the weeks before the gala.
“No problem. As you can see, I came in for the quiet, too.” Brindle was taking night and weekend classes to achieve a master’s degree in library science, and she also knew from firsthand experience how stressful working full-time and pursuing a degree was.
“I’ll use one of the study rooms if you prefer.” Brindle seemed truly sorry to intrude upon Portia’s space.
“No, that’s not necessary. I just boiled water for tea, or rather, I did when I came in. It’s in the insulated pitcher. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
They settled into their respective workspaces and Portia’s mind wandered yet again. She’d been doing a lot of this lately. Drifting when she should be getting something done, like finalizing the list of items to be auctioned off for the gala. Instead she’d scared herself half to death.
Robert hadn’t helped. She’d dated the local politician, helped him organize the personal details of his campaign. She was vehemently opposed to most of his platform, so no way would she help him with the actual campaign events. If she dug deep enough, she had to admit that she’d hoped to change him. Make him at least see her point of view on many issues. But it had never happened. When had trying to change someone else ever worked for her? A snort escaped her and she tried to cover it by sipping her tea. Brindle looked up at her and offered a smile.
“Sorry. Thinking out loud.” She raised the ceramic mug as if she hadn’t spent another sleepless night tossing and turning, wondering where ROC’s next victim would show up.
Robert hadn’t supported anything that helped drug addicts, including the fund-raiser she’d done for Silver Valley’s homeless shelter, where she volunteered at least one evening or day per week. She was glad she’d dumped his sorry butt. Unfortunately she’d also found out he’d been messing around with one of his supporters, a local lawyer. Her logical side demanded that his cheating ways would make the breakup that much easier, but it hadn’t. She’d talked it out with her best friend, Annie, and decided to take a break from men for the time being.
Shoving thoughts of her cheating ex aside, Portia skimmed the morning emails, all the while regularly checking the one monitor dedicated to library security. There were five security cameras in the building, one on each floor and one at each entrance. The back entrance was employees-only and in fact only used as an emergency exit. The screen was divided into quadrants and she’d so far been able to help a senior who’d fallen in the back corner of the cookbook section, break up several different teenaged couples who were clearly aroused by the smell of paper and last fall she’d ushered out a raccoon who’d smelled the tray of cider donuts intended for the toddler