Tara and Grams were near her car, so they hadn't heard my lie.
Jared nodded. "Okay, I'll see you later. Do you know where my place is?"
I didn't. I knew the general area, but I hadn't visited it yet. "I'll text you when I'm ready to leave, and you can give me the address."
He smiled. "Okay."
I hurried to Tara's car and squeezed into the backseat.
"Why aren't you with Jared?" she asked.
"After you take Grams to Uncle Doug's, please drop me off at the bakery," I said.
"She wants to replay the events from the day Nathan died," Grams said.
Tara pushed her key into the ignition and started her car. "Again?"
I stared out the side window. "Yeah, again."
* * *
I entered the bakery through the back door and flipped the light switch. Fluorescents flickered on and brightly lit the kitchen. I walked up front and reached for the lights but decided against it. Standing in the darkness and silence helped. Plus, it wasn't completely dark with the kitchen lights spilling in, as well as the street lamps from outside.
I walked to the register and stood with my back to it, facing the front door. I closed my eyes and envisioned that day. The nervousness that had swum through me because it had all been so unexpected, so rushed. The worry over losing revenue and what it could mean for the business. If only I'd known then that sales would get so much worse before they got better.
Then Mallory had entered along with what had felt like half the town. I had looked at everyone's face, not their hands or feet. Then I'd moved around the counter to get out of the way.
I repeated my actions from that day and stood behind the register. I had watched everyone eat, hoping for a sale.
I sighed. This wasn't helping. I hadn't seen anything unusual. I circled back around the counter again and stepped in the spot where I saw the person with the gloves and moccasins in the security feed. From my distance to the register, that person was right in the middle of the crowd. I probably wouldn't have seen him or her if I'd been staring.
Now what? I knew I was missing something but couldn't figure it out. What was it Max said that day at his house? It's not what you see that's important. It's what you don't see. If only that made sense now.
I turned, ready to go back around the register, and saw a tall figure standing in the kitchen doorway.
I gasped and flinched.
Oh my God, I hadn't heard anyone come in. I must've forgotten to lock the door behind me again. Dammit, Riley.
I took a step backward, ready to run out the front door, but remembered it was locked and my keys were on the counter. And the French rolling pins were in the kitchen.
"What do you want?" my voice shook.
The figure took several steps into the room and turned so the kitchen light illuminated his face. It was Max. "Riley, it's me."
I laid a hand over my pounding heart. "You scared the crap out of me."
He pushed his glasses up his nose. "Sorry. The back door was ajar."
"What are you doing here?" I asked. And why was he skulking around the back of the store?
"I was going to ask you why you were in the dark. That's what made me stop. I was driving by and saw this weird light and movement. I thought you were getting robbed."
"So you figured you'd investigate it yourself?"
He chuckled. "I wasn't thinking. So what are you doing?" he asked.
"Nothing. Thinking. I'm done now." I suddenly felt uncomfortable. There was no way I'd continue this with an audience. I took a few steps toward him, assuming he'd turn and head back into the kitchen, but he just stood there.
"It's time to go," I said.
"Oh, okay." He turned and walked out.
Once I'd locked the back door behind us, and checked twice, I turned to find him practically breathing down my neck. Why was he behaving so weird tonight?
"Need a lift?" he asked.
I shook my head. I started to decline, but he said, "I insist. You can't walk around at night. It's not safe."
He sounded like Tara. I hesitated. I didn't want a ride. I was feeling off, but I also didn't want to walk. Too bad I no longer had my bike or in-line skates. The skates had been in the closet under the stairs, and the bike had been in the garage. Maybe that was unaffected. I needed to go to the storage Grams rented and see what we still owned. I had a feeling it wasn't much.
"Come on," he said and pointed to his car, even though it was the only one back there.
"Fine." I walked around to the passenger side, but he beat me to the door and opened it for me. I slipped into the seat, and he pushed the door shut with a firm click.
I took a deep breath and reached for the seat belt. There was no reason to feel so anxious, I told myself, but my body didn't listen. My hands slightly trembled, and I started to sweat.
Max sat in his seat and smiled at me before starting the ignition. "Where to? Where are you staying now?"
"Tara's."
"Okay, tell me where to go," he said and backed out of the parking lot.
Danger Cove wasn't that big by car, but Tara lived in a building overlooking the water, and that ten-minute drive felt too long to sit in the car with Max. My skin tingled, and I wanted out. Maybe walking wouldn't be so bad after all.
I glanced around the area, looking for a reason to get out of the car. Then I saw Doc Eckhardt's sign up ahead, and the porch light as well as an interior one was on, which meant they were still open. Will said that some of the residents preferred making appointments later in the evening, so Doc Eckhardt accommodated them when he could.
"You know, I'm not going to Tara's yet. I need to see Will."
"Oh," Max said, sounding disappointed.
I pointed to the small white house that had been converted into a physician's office years ago. "It's right there. Just stop in front."
When he did, I swung open the door and jumped out. "Thanks. See ya."
I slammed the door, raced up Doc's front steps, and ran inside. I shut the door behind me and peeked out the side window. Max just sat there.
"Riley? What are you doing?" Will asked.
I spun around to find a deep frown and generally puzzled look on his face. His tie had been loosened at the knot, and he wore a white lab coat rather than his suit jacket. A stethoscope weighed down one of his front pockets, and a bulge of lollipops was in the other. A green one poked its head out.
"Hi. I thought we could finish talking," I said way too fast.
A shadow passed over his eyes. "About what? Hadn't we already said all we needed to?"
He was right, but I couldn't come up with a better excuse on short notice. "Um, yeah, you're right. Do you mind if I wait here for my ride?"
He shrugged. "That's fine. Who's picking you up?"
I reached into my pocket for my new phone. I had picked it up before dinner and hadn't had time to do more than activate it yet. Luckily, I knew Tara's, Amber's, and Jared's numbers by heart. But who was picking me up? That was a very good question. If I called Jared, I'd have to tell him that I'd lied to him earlier. I really didn't want to do that. I dialed Tara instead. It went straight to voice mail. Crap. I smiled as if nothing was wrong. "Hey, Tara, it's me. I'm at Doc Eckhardt's, so call me when you get this."
"I can run you over when I'm done if you haven't heard back from her before then," Will said.
I stared into his eyes. I'd miss his kindness. Was it too much to hope that we could remain friends after some time? I was afraid to ask. "That would be great. Thanks."
He walked to a door to my right and opened it. "Why don't you wait in the office? I have a patient to finish examining."
"Oh yeah, sorry to interrupt." I went into the office, and he shut the door behind me.
It was a large room with two desks—one up by the front windows and the other by the far wall. The one up front was bigger and grander. The cherry wood no longer shone, and there were dings and scratches along the side, which only made it l
ook more regal. A tall-backed, brown leather chair stood by it. I assumed it was Doc Eckhardt's.
The other desk was thinner and smaller and shone. It was a black lacquer, and an open netbook sat on it center stage. A small stack of medical journals sat on one side of it and a notepad and pen on the other. Will must've been researching something.
Shelves of medical books lined two walls. The other two held windows and a couple of photos of leaves. An old-fashioned radiator, the kind that stuck out from the wall and was super hot, sat in front of the side windows. It made me smile. I hadn't seen one in years. Doc Eckhardt must've had a thing for nature, because floor plants filled the front corners and a spider plant hung by a side window. The walls were painted in a soft salmon color, and the yellow glow of a lamp made the room feel warm and inviting.
There were two armchairs in the middle of the room, on a large Oriental rug. I sat in the one closest to Will's desk and stared at a framed photo on the windowsill beside me. It was of Doc Eckhardt with his arm around Will's shoulders. It looked like it was taken when Will had first finished med school, because he had that weird little goatee. I didn't mind some facial hair. Will didn't have the face for it though.
Doc still had the same crinkly blue eyes when he smiled. He'd been my doctor for as long as I could remember. He'd always reminded me of Santa Claus. Now he had the white hair to go along with it. Other than spotting him around town or his occasional visit in the bakery, I hadn't seen him in years. I couldn't say I was a big fan of doctors or being poked and prodded.
There was another frame behind this one. It had fallen and was lying on its back. I leaned forward to pick it up, and my foot kicked something beneath the radiator. I grabbed the frame, lifted it, pulled back the easel stand, and sat it beside the other. It was of Doc holding a huge fish. His smile was enormous and contagious. I felt myself happy for his victory.
I giggled and sat back in my chair. I looked down at what I had kicked, and my entire body froze.
Peeking out from the radiator was a pair of moccasins with a yellow splotch on the top.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I jumped up, spun around, and whacked my thigh into the sharp corner of Will's desk. Shoot!
Why were those shoes here?
My pulse rose, and my breathing hitched, causing me to hiccup.
I stepped back until I hit the door. I kept my eyes solely on them and realized they were smack in the middle of the room. They could've belonged to either of the doctors. I glanced at Doc Eckhardt's desk. Had he been in the bakery that day? Surely I would've noticed the aging man. Someone would've said, "Hey, Doc." Everyone loved him, greeted him wherever he went. I hadn't heard that, which meant…
I turned my head to look at Will's desk.
No. That wasn't possible. He wouldn't poison a man. He didn't even know how to bake. He could barely boil water. And I hadn't seen him there that day. But I couldn't recall everyone who had been there. Could he have blended in?
This was crazy. Will was not a murderer. And the fire. There was no way…
I grabbed the doorknob behind me. He was so upset about Jared and then the kiss. But the kiss came after Nathan's death, and he couldn't have tried to kill me.
But I wasn't fully sure about anything right now. I twisted the doorknob, peeked my head into the hall, and hiccupped. Shut up, Riley.
I stepped out and tiptoed to the front door. I had to get out of here. Voices sounded in the room across from the office. It was one of a couple of exam rooms. How long did an exam take? I didn't want to find out. I tore open the front door and ran outside. Down the front steps and to the sidewalk. I blinked twice when I realized Max was still sitting there in his car.
"Riley?" Will called.
I glanced back and saw him standing in the doorway. The inside light cast an odd light across his body.
Without thinking, I jerked open Max's car door, slid into the passenger seat, and shouted, "Go!"
He had driven three blocks when my phone dinged. It was a text from Will.
Why did you leave?
"What's going on?" Max asked.
How did I explain? What did I explain? I didn't have facts, just my gut and a pair of shoes. Shoes that I had left behind. If Will figured out that I'd seen them, he could get rid of them, and then I'd have no proof for the cops.
I hiccupped and held my breath.
Police. Was I really going to tell them about Will, accuse him of murder and arson?
I couldn't believe this was happening. I'd have to tell the cops. But I didn't have any evidence. I wasn't sure they'd even listen to what I had to say about Will. He was a good guy. He wore the white shiny cowboy hat, metaphorically. He was a doctor, and I was the crazy bakery lady screaming about killer scones. I, more or less, stole a video from the bank. I was about to inherit a ridiculous amount of money and was suspected of Nathan's death. Why would they take me at my word?
"Riley," Max said. "What were you running from?"
I blinked several times and realized I hadn't hiccupped again. Finally. That was getting painful.
"Riley!" Max shouted.
I glanced at him. "What?"
As he said something, I stared out the window. He pulled into the driveway of Nathan's, now his, house.
"Why are we here?" I asked.
"I asked you where Tara lived twice. You weren't listening."
I sighed, realizing how zoned out I'd been. "Sorry. She lives…"
A beam of light flashed across the living room window. "What was that?" I pointed toward it.
Max turned and looked. Another beam of light flashed.
"Shit." He jumped out of the car. He was inside the house before I got to the back fender.
I followed him in but hung out near the doorway. This could've been a home robbery, and the last thing I wanted was to face another criminal right now. I moved in slow motion. I wasn't all that focused on my surroundings. My mind was still back at Doc's.
"What are you doing?" Max shouted. He stood in the archway to the living room. He clenched his fists and rounded his shoulders forward. Obviously, whatever was making grunt sounds didn't frighten him.
I stepped forward and had to squint to make out Holly frozen in her spot, with a mini flashlight between her teeth and her right arm raised high, holding a knife.
Max flipped a switch and two side lamps went on.
The sofa cushions had been slashed, and stuffing rose out of them. The portraits looked like they'd been clawed, and the coffee table had been upturned. What was wrong with her?
She seethed and growled when she saw me. "This isn't her family," she said. The flashlight tumbled from her mouth and hit the floor. "She shouldn't get anything."
Max turned and headed toward the kitchen. "I'm calling the police."
Holly's eyes grew wider and darker. Knife still in air, she charged toward me.
Oh my God!
I ran out the front door. I got to the end of the driveway and glanced back. She was right behind me. She wasn't kidding. I turned left at the corner and booked it.
* * *
Panting and sweating, I lost track of where I was. I couldn't run anymore, so I stopped. My breathing was irregular, and my throat burned. I glanced back, and Holly was no longer behind me. I believed I'd lost her about three blocks ago, but I hadn't wanted to stop to check. I bent over, placed my hands on my knees, and tried to breathe.
When my heart rate lowered enough to keep me from having a heart attack, I stood straight and stared at the houses. I wasn't too far from Grams' house. I guess I was subconsciously running home. Too bad my home was just a shell right now.
I started walking, very slowly. I think I bruised a muscle in my thigh. Once I got to Grams' house, I'd call Jared and have him come get me. At least there I could sit on the front steps and wait, rather than stand on a corner.
I thought back to every minute of tonight. To Max appearing out of nowhere and scaring the life out of me at the bakery. And then finding the
shoes at Doc's. To sneaking out and jumping into Max's car. I still didn't know why he had waited. And then Holly chasing me down the street wielding a knife like a crazed serial killer from a horror movie. Either there was a full moon, and the world had gone insane, or I was in a coma from falling out of the tree, and this was a nightmare. Or maybe I'd died in the fire and this was hell. Any of those scenarios would almost be better than the truth.
Will was a killer? I still wanted to disbelieve it.
Tears gathered in my eyes. I didn't try to stop them from falling.
Finally, I turned on my block and sprinted to the house. Instead of sitting on the stairs though, I walked to the side and peered in. Now was a good time to see what was left behind.
I stepped over the piece of soggy, ashy quarter wall and onto what used to be the bottom landing of the stairs. I glanced over, and my heart grew heavy. The closet beneath the stairs no longer existed, and lumps of ash sat where our things once were. Looking up, I wondered if the movers had accessed our bedrooms at all. They'd need a ladder to get there, so chances were they hadn't. I hoped looters wouldn't do just that, but at this point, would it have mattered? Some of the best things—Mom and Dad's stuff—were already gone. Everything else could be replaced.
I walked into the living room. The place reeked. I doubted we'd ever get rid of the burnt stench. The sofa and TV were still there. The tables had been taken away. I placed a finger on the couch. It was damp. The bookcase, which I was certain held wet books, stood by the kitchen. Had the movers been able to save anything?
I headed to the garage before going to the kitchen The garage was empty. Too bad there hadn't been anything in there that held sentimental value. I doubted I'd be upset if our shovel had been disintegrated. The good thing, however, was that my bike was salvageable.
I turned to head to the kitchen and spotted a shadow by the stairs.
For the umpteenth time that night, I flinched, and my pulse rose. "There's nothing here to take," I managed to say to the looter.
Death by Scones Page 21
