by Rebecca Deel
Ethan wrote his cell number on a business card and handed it to Shane. “When you remember, call me.”
“You think the thief drove that truck?”
“It’s worth checking out.”
Shane pocketed the card, crossed to the oven and peered at the biscuits. “They’re ready.” He grabbed an oven mitt and gestured to the cabinet area beside the sink. “I’ll grab the plates and bowls. Silverware’s in that drawer.”
Though Ethan hadn’t planned on staying, aromas from the simmering stew and baking biscuits kicked his taste buds into overdrive. He couldn’t resist fresh-baked breads of any kind. Good thing the Army and Aunt Ruth instilled discipline in him. Otherwise, his weight would creep higher than it should.
With the table set and bowls of steaming stew in front of them, the two men sat across the oak table from each other. Ethan’s lips closed around the first spoonful of stew. He savored the flavors mingling on his tongue. Potatoes, carrots, onions, succulent beef. “This is incredible. Did you make it?”
Shane chuckled. “Wish Lisa could’ve heard you say that. It’s good, isn’t it? Can’t take credit for anything but heating it up, though. I’m lucky to warm soup without burning it.”
“So who made the stew? Lisa?”
“Serena Cahill. I hired her as a personal chef.”
Ethan gripped his spoon tighter. Serena Cahill, again. Miller had also hired her. Coincidence? Or was his first impression of Serena wrong?
#
Ethan flipped on his apartment lights. Taped boxes greeted him, a testament to long work hours the past two weeks. Good thing his aunt lived on her own. She hated disorder. As a teenager, he’d bucked against Ruth’s housekeeping rules. Towels hung to dry. Soiled clothes in the hamper or they weren’t washed. Dirty dishes stacked in the dishwasher, not piled in the sink. In bed at night, he appreciated her peaceful, clean home. His father had defined clean as a path through the heaps.
After a shower washed away dust, sweat, and hay, Ethan bundled his uniform into the washer. Mucking out stalls with Shane allowed him to evaluate how the farmer cared for his animals. Satisfied Shadow would be happy, Ethan had arranged for Shane to board his horse.
He grabbed a Coke from the refrigerator and sank into the brown leather recliner in his living room. He popped the tab and guzzled some of the sweet, fizzy cola.
Memories surfaced of Serena sipping a Coke on Miller’s front porch steps. The beautiful chef’s name had once again surfaced in connection with the burglary investigation. Not chef, he corrected himself, a personal chef. Ethan frowned. He didn’t know the difference between a chef and a personal chef. Something to ask Serena the next time he saw her.
If her name emerged this often in an investigation in Las Vegas, he’d wonder about her involvement. But in a town this size?
A ringing phone jarred him from his thoughts. He glanced at the number displayed. “Hello, beautiful lady.”
An exasperated sigh sounded in his ear. “Caller ID ruins the element of surprise.”
“Comes in handy with my job, Aunt Ruth. How are you?”
“I finished another chapter today.”
“So you worked out the plot twist?”
“Thanks to you.”
He smiled. “I supplied options. You’re the genius behind Olivia Tutweiler. When’s your deadline?”
“Next week. Can you read the manuscript before I ship it off to my editor?”
“Sure.” He’d make time, even if he had to stay up a couple nights. He enjoyed helping her think through crimes and story plots. Ruth’s mysteries had a satisfactory conclusion. Real cases didn’t always close with a neat ending.
“I’ll get it to you by the end of the week. By the way, one of those shutters is crooked. When can you straighten it?”
Laughter rumbled in Ethan’s chest. “Is tomorrow afternoon soon enough? I’m working the graveyard shift.”
“Perfect. I’ll have an early dinner ready for you.” She paused.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. Never at a loss for words, his aunt used dramatic pauses when she wanted information.
“You know, those burglaries are curious.”
“Aunt Ruth.” His voice held a note of warning.
“Aren’t they strange, Ethan? Why would someone break into houses and not take anything but flash drives? What kind of information could be on those things worth almost killing a man for?”
“Figure it out on paper for your next book. Stay out of this.” He scrambled for plausible excuses. “You’re still on crutches and a book deadline. We’ll talk about it after the case closes. You can ask anything you want then.”
“Don’t worry, Ethan. I won’t interfere with your work. I’m just curious.”
He swallowed hard. Her last three words set off a firestorm of dread.
#
Serena crossed the grocery store parking lot, a spring in her step, the morning breeze hinting at warmer temperatures predicted later in the day. Since she had a light schedule today, she planned to check her bee hives. This time of year, the bees produced plenty of honey and needed room in the hives or they’d swarm. Though it was a sight to behold, she didn’t want the hassle of ordering more bees and starting another hive.
Juggling bags, she unlocked her car and deposited the groceries on the front seat and floorboard.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
She swung around, her expression as blank as she could manage. “Hi, Mitch. Were you looking for me?” Please, not another interview.
Mitch Harrington’s slow perusal sent a shiver of distaste over her body. “Haven’t seen Pam in a few days. She on vacation?”
“She pulled a muscle in her back. She’s spending a lot of time in the chiropractor’s office and on the couch.”
“Sorry to hear that. Shall I pick you up tonight at 6:30?”
She frowned, her keys biting into her hand. “Why?”
“East Tennessee Small Business Awards dinner.”
“That’s tonight?” She bit lip. “I’d forgotten about it.”
“Wear the green dress. You look sexy in that.”
Serena’s face burned. The slim fitting dress was a desperate thirty-something’s splurge into a more revealing outfit. When she’d worn that dress on their date last week, Mitch’s gaze remained glued to certain parts of her body. In the safety of her home after fending off the last of a string of passes, Serena tossed the dress into the trash. “I’d rather go by myself.”
“Tough, honey. You promised weeks ago and I’m holding you to it.” He moved in closer, forcing her to edge closer to her car. “You don’t want to break your word, Serena.” With a light touch, he ran a finger down her cheek to her mouth. “I might find Megan’s deadlines too hard to meet. Could put her in a bad position since the paper’s readership is just starting to grow. And good journalists don’t beg to work for small newspapers.”
She jerked her head to the side, relieved when his hand dropped. She yanked her purse up between them. “Stooping to blackmail for a date?”
He smiled. “Whatever works to win the company of a beautiful woman. Have a heart, Serena. Your sister has been assigning me so many articles I haven’t had time to socialize much. And at this late hour, I can’t scare up another date. You’re not going to force me to attend this dinner by myself, are you?”
Serena dragged her sunglasses from the top of her head and perched them on her nose. Another evening in Mitch’s company appealed to her as much as picking up garbage by the roadside with her bare hands.
Aside from his threat to give Meg grief, Mitch had a point. She’d given her word to attend the banquet with him. She built Home Runs, Inc., on her integrity as much as her cooking skills.
She’d rather not go at all, but Grace Martin had won the Shining Star award for new businesses in Dunlap County. Grace owned Martin Catering which specialized in the event and banquet venue. With only two professional chefs in Otter Creek, Serena would appear miffed at losing if she stayed
home. Serena didn’t see Grace as a rival since the two women focused on different markets. The caterer, however, didn’t think of their market niches as that defined.
She slung her purse over her shoulder and pushed past him. “Fine, 6:30. But no more dates, Mitch. Not for any reason.”
His laughter rang in her ears as she swung her Beetle out of the parking lot.
#
Serena grabbed another stalk of celery. Her knife flashed in the bright kitchen light as she chopped. Where had she left her common sense? Her stomach had been in a knot since she agreed to go with Mitch to the dinner.
Maybe she should cancel. She pushed aside the celery and shoved a couple of carrots into position. She glanced at her watch. The stomach knot lurched. Too late to cancel.
“What’s wrong?”
Serena jumped and whirled, knife still clutched in her hand. “Ruth, I didn’t hear you come in.”
Ruth’s white brows rose. “My muse demanded a break. She and I are unarmed, you know.”
“Sorry.” She laid the knife on the cutting board. “Would your muse like a drink?” She seized the opportunity to shift her thoughts from Mitch.
“Peppermint tea might get her back on task.” Ruth sank into a kitchen chair and dropped her crutches. “You’ve chopped with increasing vigor for the last 15 minutes. Did you remember to leave me some whole celery sticks?”
Serena’s gaze darted to the counter. Oh, man. The celery mound was too large for one bunch. “I’m sorry, Ruth. I’ll get more tomorrow.”
“I’ll eat the celery and peanut butter with a fork. Why are you so uptight?”
“Do you think Mr. Miller walked in on the robbers by accident?” She opened the cabinet and withdrew a mug. “I can’t think of any other reason for them to hurt him.”
“That was no ordinary robbery.”
Serena paused, her hand clutching a tea bag. “Why do you say that?”
“If he walked in on a robbery, why didn’t the thieves take anything except computer stuff? And why bother to beat him? With his leg and arm in casts, a good shove would incapacitate him and allow them to escape.”
Bile rose in her throat. “They beat him on purpose?”
“It takes time to do that kind of damage. George knows more than he’s saying.”
A vivid picture of Miller’s battered body flashed in her mind. Her stomach wrenched. Hands unsteady, Serena grabbed another mug and a second tea bag. She had to focus on anything but George Miller and Mitch. Otherwise, Ruth’s meals would taste like science experiments.
Ruth’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I should ask who has you rattled?”
The tea kettle slipped out of Serena’s hand with a thud. She gripped the handle and filled the kettle with water. “You’re sharp.”
“Goes with the job. Is it Mitch?”
After turning on the burner, she finished chopping the carrots and pushed them aside. “He caught me in the grocery store parking lot before I came here.”
“What did he want?”
She smiled at her friend’s fierce tone. In more than one conversation, Ruth referred to Mitch as an arrogant boor. Strong words for a man she’d never met. Serena dumped the vegetables in a cooker filled with water, then stirred simmering spaghetti sauce in a second pot with a wooden spoon. “A date.”
“I hope you turned him down flat.”
“I wanted to, but I promised to attend an awards dinner with him several weeks ago.”
“You think that’s wise?”
What choice did she have? Mitch might take his anger out on her sister. “It’s only for a few hours. We’ll be with other people. What could happen?”
“You really want me to answer that?”
Serena laughed. “No. You write murder mysteries. No telling how many dead bodies and shoot outs would spring from your imagination.”
“You will carry your cell phone, won’t you?”
“Of course. I never leave home without it.”
“Call me when you return.”
Serena’s gaze shifted from her spaghetti sauce to Ruth’s grim expression. “It may be late.”
“I’m a night owl when I’m on a deadline. I’ll be awake.”
Disquiet slipped icy fingers around the back of her neck, raising cold chills on her skin. Serena turned back to the stove and stirred the sauce. Ruth didn’t need to worry. She’d be extra vigilant tonight.
CHAPTER SIX
“I wondered if you’d show up tonight, Serena.”
Serena turned from the display table, her mouth curved in a small smile. Grace’s catty tone made her wonder if she should step out of claw range. “Hello, Grace. You look beautiful.”
The red sequined formal provided a perfect foil for the caterer’s alabaster skin and ebony hair. Grace Martin’s sneer morphed into a puzzled frown. “Looking good for the Gazette is great publicity for Martin Catering.”
“Congratulations on winning the Shining Star award. You worked hard this year building your business from scratch.” Her smile broadened. “You deserve the recognition.”
Grace stared at her. “I, well, thanks.”
“Congratulations, Grace.” Mitch’s arm curled around Serena’s waist, anchoring her to his side before she could put distance between them. “You’re going to make an eye-catching front page. You look good enough to eat.”
Grace laughed. “Make sure you get my good side.”
Mitch’s gaze dropped. He perused the caterer’s physique in a deliberate manner. “Should be easy, sweetheart. You don’t have a bad side.”
Mitch served flattery to everyone but her faster than McDonald’s slapped together happy meals. He’d made pointed complaints about her dress for the evening during their drive to Knoxville.
“I didn’t think you and Serena were seeing each other anymore.”
“I’m trying to convince her otherwise.”
“We’re here as friends.” Serena wedged her elbow between her body and his. “I think dinner is about to be served. We’ll see you later, Grace.” She slipped out of Mitch’s embrace and headed for their table. She dragged in a deep breath, glad to be more than an inch away from him. She might need an extra fork during dinner. One for the salad, one for dinner, and one for Mitch’s hand.
He caught up with her a few feet from their assigned places. His hand slid down her back, then gripped her upper arm with surprising strength. He leaned close to her ear. “Don’t cause a scene, baby. You’ll regret it.”
“I meant what I told Grace. I’m here as a friend, not your date.”
His eyes glittered as he stared at her. Though she wanted to shrink away, Serena stood her ground. What possessed her to ever think this man would be a good dating prospect? She would never go anywhere with him again, even as a friend.
#
Serena clung to the door handle as interstate lane markers flew by at a dizzying pace. Mitch drove like he was kin to Megan, Dunlap County’s infamous speeder. Where did policemen hang out when you needed one?
She forced her attention away from the speedometer. With him ignoring the speed limit, she’d get home faster.
“Remember anything else yet?”
Serena’s gaze flew to his face. “What?”
“About the robbery. You couldn’t describe the guy who shot at you, but you’ve had a while to get over the shock. Memories surface later.” He sped down the off-ramp and hung a right into Otter Creek.
Why didn’t he drop this? She still didn’t feel right about divulging more information. “I thought the paper already went to press.”
“I’m working on the follow-up story for the mid-week edition.” His hand released the steering wheel and grasped hers. “You’re the only witness.”
His soft voice sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine. Did he have to remind her no one else saw the thief? “I can’t tell you anything else, Mitch. You’ll have to talk to the police if you want more information.” She flexed her fingers, intent on pulling her hand from his.
>
He tightened his grip.
She gasped. “Mitch, you’re hurting me. Let go.”
“Sorry, baby. Just the thought of someone trying to hurt you makes me angry.” His grip eased a fraction, though not enough to retrieve her hand. She gritted her teeth and stared out the window. Three more blocks to her home and the end of this nightmarish evening.
The SUV roared past Marigold Lane. Serena stiffened. “Mitch, you passed my street.”
His soft laughter filled the small space. “It’s early.” He pressed the gas pedal harder.
“Maybe for you, but I have to be at the grocery store by 7:00 tomorrow morning.” She tugged at her hand. “Come on, Mitch. Turn around.”
“Relax. I want to show you something.” He turned onto Overlook Road and shot up the steep grade. “I discovered a great view of Otter Creek.”
She wished she’d kept the fork. It would come in handy about now. “It’s midnight. Most of the town lights are out. There won’t be anything to see.”
“Trust me.”
She’d sooner trust a starving cheetah. She couldn’t jump out of the car at this speed. He’d stop in another couple of miles. The road led to Overlook Point, a local teenage make-out spot. Her cheeks flushed. Maybe she could get a ride back home with somebody—after she died a thousand deaths from embarrassment. She’d rather walk home.
Serena twisted her hand free. She scooted as close to the door as the seatbelt allowed, then felt around on the floor for her purse and cell phone. She might not have to interrupt some teen’s smooching session. Madison would come get her without the lecture. Well, not much of one, anyway.
“What are you doing?”
His sharp tone raised red flags in her mind. She licked dry lips. “Checking my messages. I have a business to run.” She glanced down at the phone. Her heart stuttered. No power. Dead battery. She needed a new plan.
After one final curve, Mitch steered the car off the road into the parking area. Serena looked around. For once, no teens lurked in steamed up cars. No cars in sight.
