by Emily James
I extended my cupcake tray slightly. “I made cupcakes to express my condolences to Mrs. Wells.”
Rebecca gave me a look that said she wasn’t going to eat anything some stranger brought into her home, let alone a cupcake.
The man with her motioned me forward. I eased the tray down onto the kitchen counter and slid it gingerly in his direction. The door stayed wedged open behind me, letting the noise from the other mourners carry down the hall.
It also gave a direct view into the great room. Hopefully Claire was being subtle about her investigating. Otherwise, she’d give us away.
The man popped the top off the tray and glanced up at me. “These look amazing.” He bit into one of the lemon meringue pie cupcakes. “They taste even better. Thank you for such a thoughtful gesture.”
His voice softened at the end, and he glanced at Rebecca as if he expected her to agree. She mumbled something that I didn’t catch again.
Silence fell, and I backed up a step. Time for me to leave before this got anymore awkward than it already was.
The man put the cover back on my tray. “Did you bake these or buy them? If they’re from a bakery I don’t know about, I’d like to be able to purchase more.”
He’s digging, Fear slammed into my brain with enough force that it almost took my breath away. He wants to be able to find you later and get rid of you.
Or, I argued back with my rational side, my cupcakes made an impression, and he really does want to know if he’ll be able to get them somewhere.
So I could either tell him my name and potentially get more business or protect myself from someone who might be a threat.
The might be felt like an extra twenty pounds strapped to my back. The longer I went around carrying it, the heavier it would feel. Dan would tell me to take a chance on something good…or, at least, he’d tell me that if we weren’t hiding this whole situation from him.
Dan would say that life wasn’t worth living if I spent it being afraid.
I took out a card from my purse and handed it to the man. “They’re from my food truck, How Sweet It Is.”
Rebecca leaped up from her chair and swept down on me. Fear and all my instincts told me to shrink away or cower, say something—anything—to calm her down. But how could I do that when I didn’t know what had set her off?
She brushed past me without giving me a sideways glance.
Relief flittered through my chest but didn’t land. I wasn’t the only person at this funeral luncheon who shouldn’t be here. Rebecca might have seen Claire doing something suspicious, or she might have heard Claire say something that I missed because I was focused elsewhere.
I turned around. Rebecca was headed right for where Claire stood. We should have had a plan before we came here. I hadn’t been taking this seriously enough. Could she have us arrested for trespassing? Technically we weren’t mourners, which meant we hadn’t been invited.
But there was no way she could have recognized Claire, and even though I could hear people talking now that the door was open, I could only pick out a few words. Claire wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t have been yelling her questions.
Something else was happening.
I headed down the hallway after Rebecca. A man stood near Claire, a hat held in his hands. His frame was slightly boxy.
The hot air balloon operator.
Rebecca stopped in front of him and poked him in the chest with a manicured finger. I’d never seen someone actually do that except on TV.
“You have some nerve showing up here.” Her voice was high-pitched to the point of sounding pulled thin.
He crushed his hat between both hands. “It wasn’t my fault, what happened. The police believe me.”
If he was telling the truth, that was the first I’d heard of it. Granted, Dan hadn’t been around as much. The case had become high profile because of the strange circumstances. It wasn’t every day that someone fell from a hot air balloon.
She put her finger back up to his chest and gave a little push. “You should never have taken him up in the balloon when he was sick. You should have known he might fall.”
“I didn’t even know he was sick.” He held his hands up at chest level, a combination of I surrender and self-protection. “We needed to talk privately, and I needed to take off. My balloon seemed like the prefect place. How was I supposed to know he wouldn’t be safe up there?”
Their conversation didn’t make it clear whether they both knew the cause of death was an interaction with his medication. Rebecca sounded like she thought her husband had gotten dizzy or fainted and that’s how he ended up falling over. The police could be holding back details so as not to tip their hand.
Rebecca covered her face, and her shoulders shook. An older woman with close-cropped silver hair, and a woman about my age who shared her nose and cheek bones, broke away from the crowd. The older woman put an arm around Rebecca and directed her out of the room, making shushing noises the whole time.
The hot air balloon operator watched them go. His face sagged, as if that interaction hadn’t gone the way he’d planned. Though what he expected to happen when he’d been a person of interest in Donald Wells’ death, I wasn’t sure.
He finally turned away, and our gazes met. His eyes narrowed in a way that made me think he was almost as unhappy to see me as Rebecca had been to see him.
The man who’d been talking to Rebecca in the kitchen stopped beside me, but he was facing the hot air balloon operator. “You need to leave.”
I barely held back a reaction. He hadn’t seemed to have much respect for his aunt, but he was still standing up for her as a member of the family and making sure no one upset her today. Or, at least, no one other than him.
He probably wouldn’t be pleased if he knew the real reason Claire and I were there.
I edged backward. If Claire and I wanted to stay and find out anything more, I needed to be less visible right now. It was bad enough I’d interrupted Donald Wells’ widow in the middle of a private conversation. I didn’t need to be front and center when a person of interest was evicted from the wake.
The hot air balloon operator swung toward me. “If I have to leave because Don fell out of my balloon, then she should have to leave too. He ate a cupcake from her food truck right before he died. For all we know, she poisoned him and that’s why he fell.”
The conversations that had picked back up after Rebecca left the room fell into a hush again. The silence felt heavy enough even a forklift couldn’t have moved it.
A hand wrapped around my elbow. Claire’s vanilla and lavender perfume told me it was her.
“We’ve already been cleared by the police.” Claire’s voice held the distinct Claire confidence that brooked no further argument. “But since we’ve already paid our respects to the family, we’ll be on our way.”
She nodded to the man who’d asked the hot air balloon operator to leave and swept out the door with me in tow.
Once we were fifteen feet away, she leaned in. “Do you think that smoothed things over? The last thing our business needs is bad press. No one will hire us if they think we serve poisoned cupcakes.”
7
The outlet store where I restocked my baking supplies locked their door behind me and shut off the lights at the front of the store. Outside, the sun had already set, leaving the parking lot illuminated by the anemic street lamp. Only the employees’ cars were still in the lot.
And I’d forgotten to text Claire when I was checking out the way I was supposed to so that she could head out to pick me up. I’d gotten distracted by the size of the order I’d had to make. Thanks to the website my friend Eve created for me a few months ago, we’d gotten hired to create a display for the annual children’s talent show. I couldn’t understand why parents didn’t just bring desserts the way they did for school events, but Claire said this was more like a mini-pageant. The winner would go on to compete at the state level.
The one benefit to the size of order I’d
made this time was they’d deliver. At least I wouldn’t be trying to babysit a bunch of bags for however long it took Claire to reach me.
I texted her that I was done.
At the gym, her response said. I thought you decided to walk home. I’ll be about 20 minutes.
Technically, since I didn’t have bags to carry, I could walk home. It’d take about the same amount of time as waiting for Claire.
It was just that it was already dark.
I shivered even though it was still warm enough out that I didn’t even need a light jacket. Neither choice was one I relished. I could stand here in the dark, probably well past when even the employees would have left. Or I could walk home in the dark.
When I was a little girl, my dad used to tell me there was nothing to fear in the dark that wasn’t there in the daylight.
Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn’t. But at least in the daylight I could see the threats coming.
I gave myself a mental shake. This was silly. It was barely after nine, and the route back to Claire’s house from here was mostly through the part of town that was restaurants and coffee shops. There’d be plenty of people.
I texted Claire back that it was a good night for a walk, and I’d meet her at home. That way she wouldn’t have to rush her workout. Though, I thought she’d already been to the gym this morning.
No more stalling. Unless I wanted to huddle here until morning, waiting was only going to make my walk darker, not lighter. It wasn’t like I’d never been out on the street after dark.
I left the hazy glow cast by the outlet store and headed toward home.
A sound like footsteps trailed behind me, and sweat burst out on my upper lip and forehead. My brain was bound to start playing tricks on me. It was probably just an employee headed for their car.
I glanced back over my shoulder. The natural darkness of the night and the shadows from the few light sources hid anyone who might or might not have been behind me. I couldn’t hear the footsteps anymore.
Were the footsteps all in my head?
My skin felt like I’d walked through a cobweb and couldn’t get all the strands off—sticky and shivery and imagining the worst. I picked up my pace. Not enough that someone following me would notice right away. Just enough to hopefully put a bit more space between us.
If Jarrod had found me at last, this was the worst possible situation to be in.
Strike that. The worst possible would be if he found me, and I was with Janie. This was the second worst. I was alone. I’d be dead before anyone knew he’d taken me.
The noise like footsteps started up behind me again. I wasn’t a good enough judge of sound to tell if it was a man’s or a woman’s footfalls.
Dear God, let it be a woman. I’d be safe if it was a woman. A woman wouldn’t want to hurt me. Besides, I could probably take a woman as long as she didn’t have a gun. I was strong.
I lengthened my stride. If someone was following me, if Jarrod had found me, I needed to get to the strip of restaurants as quickly as possible. The lights ahead felt like the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. They were close, but not close enough for anyone to help me if I screamed.
Screw it.
I broke into a jog. My purse bounced against my side, and I clutched it closer under one arm.
I couldn’t hear if the person was still following me. My own breathing was too loud in my ears.
I ducked into the first establishment I reached, a coffee shop with only three tables. Two were full. I took the third.
The spot wasn’t ideal. With how brightly lit the coffee shop was and how dark it was outside, the person who’d been following me could see I was in here. He could wait for me to come out.
Assuming anyone had actually been following me. I might have imagined it. Or I might not, but the footsteps might have belonged to someone innocently headed in the same direction. The hundred possible innocent explanations were all more likely than the one keeping me frozen to my seat—that Jarrod had found me at last.
Maybe my business was getting too big. I should never have left the website up, even without my picture on it. The better known How Sweet It Is became, the more at risk I was.
I’d gotten too comfortable. Life had started to feel too easy. I’d started to think this could be my life permanently.
I sucked in a deep breath. Jumping to conclusions wouldn’t help me. The footsteps had sounded real, but that didn’t mean they were following me.
And yet, I couldn’t walk the rest of the way home. That was too big a gamble.
I also couldn’t call Claire. She was already stressed enough. The last thing I needed her thinking about was that my psychotic husband who could legally carry a concealed weapon might have found me. Neither of us would ever sleep again because she’d be up all night cleaning the house until she wore the floor to shreds.
Besides, it was embarrassing. This whole situation might be in my head.
If I was going to be humiliated, I was going to do it in front of one person and one person only. After all, he’d already seen me filthy and smelling like week-old hot garbage, literally.
I dialed Dan’s number. The background sounded noisy when he answered even though I knew he wasn’t at work. Janie always stayed with us when he had to work a late shift.
“Are you busy?” I asked.
“I’m with Janie at Tumble Bugs.” He lowered his voice. “You saved me from the mom who’s been flirting with me for the past two sessions. Talk as long as you want.”
I’d forgotten tonight was Janie’s gymnastics class. Maybe they could swing by and pick me up on their way home. I’d need to order a coffee soon anyway or the baristas would kick me out.
“That was a long pause.” Dan’s voice had lost its joking quality.
I swallowed hard, the combination of the dryness in my throat from my run and my pride making the words stick. “I need a ride.” I explained the situation to him and how someone might or might not have been following me. “But I can wait.”
“Where are you?” Dan asked.
I gave him the name of the coffee shop.
“That’s less than five minutes from here. I’ll pick you up and you can watch the rest of Janie’s class with me. Janie will love it, and you’ll save me from the barracuda mom.”
I could imagine the single moms circling Dan. A laugh sneaked out before I could stop it, and I managed to keep it from ending on a sob. “Thank you.”
“Wait inside for me. I’ll come in.”
I ordered us both a coffee in to-go cups and sat back down. Maybe I shouldn’t have even hesitated to call him. He was the man who’d used the GPS tracker on my phone to find me when I wasn’t answering, and he was worried for my safety. He’d also taken me seriously enough that he’d told me to wait inside.
My concern might be valid or it might have been all shadows and paranoia. But Dan hadn’t made me feel like I was silly or a baby for being afraid. Somehow, being believed, being taken seriously instead of being told to relax, made all the difference. I could be calmer knowing he was on my side, whether there was a real threat or not.
Dan walked into the coffee shop door less than five minutes later. I handed him his coffee, and he placed a hand gently on my back as we exited the shop.
The touch sent spirals of sparks along my skin. It was a visual representation of him having my back. If someone was waiting for me to leave, they’d see I wasn’t alone.
Dan opened the car door for me and climbed into the driver’s side. He sipped his coffee as he drove away, but his gaze flickered to the rearview mirror. He switched lanes at the last minute and took a left turn even though Janie’s gymnastics’ studio was to the right.
He didn’t say anything. Did he think I wouldn’t notice that he was taking a circuitous route?
He glanced at the rear view mirror again and caught me watching him. “No one’s following us.”
I let out a sigh and slumped back into my seat. “Probably no one ever
was.”
Dan took another sip of coffee. “Better safe than sorry.”
I closed my eyes. That was my life motto up until the past few months. “I forgot to think about Jarrod before I decided to walk.”
Dan kept his eyes focused on the road as if he were trying to give me space. “That’s healthy. You can’t spend every moment of every day fixated on him.”
I had, though. For so long that it’d felt normal. I couldn’t remember when that had started to change, but it’d been some time after Dan, Janie, and Claire became a regular part of my life. It’d happened so slowly I hadn’t even noticed. “It’s stupid. But it’s been nice to not feel afraid all the time.” I tucked my hands between my knees. “I don’t want to have to go back to being afraid all the time.”
Dan slowed the car slightly. He glanced at me. “I’d like you to consider learning to defend yourself. It might have been Jarrod tonight. It might not. But you’ll feel safer. And I’ll worry about you less. All women should know self-defense.”
I nodded. If I knew some techniques for stopping him or slowing him down if he did find me, I’d feel safer. Given how many murders I’d gotten tangled up in during the past year, knowing self-defense seemed like a useful skill even if Jarrod never found me.
“The department offers classes for free.” Dan signaled and eased the car into a spot out front of Janie’s gymnasium. “I could sign you up.”
A class? No chance. A class gave Jarrod a routine he could track. “Can’t I learn from a YouTube video or something?”
Dan chuckled. “It doesn’t work that way. You didn’t watch a YouTube video and suddenly you could decorate a cake, did you? You had to practice. Same thing.”
He had a point. And maybe I’d passed the point where I needed to be concerned about a pattern where someone could watch me and know where I’d be. I lived in a house now, not a truck where I parked somewhere different each night. Someone didn’t have to watch me and learn a pattern. They only had to follow me home.
Anything was worth trying if it meant I could be less afraid. “Okay. Sign me up.”
