by Cindy Sample
“Promise.”
We signed off, and I finally completed my pit stop. Tom could stop me from investigating, but he couldn’t keep my brain from asking questions. Many people hide dark secrets from their past, myself included. I still hadn’t told my mother that I was the one to devour the box of chocolates my father gave her one Valentine’s Day. I let my older brother take the blame for me. One of these days I needed to fess up.
Although by now, she’d most likely figured out that her little chocoholic had committed the crime.
Stealing chocolates was a far cry from blackmail though. Hank had seemed proud that Brooke used to be a dancer. Was he also aware of her additional skills? Did it really matter to him? Or to me for that matter?
Yes, it did.
Especially if revealing photos from Brooke’s racy and possibly criminal past had led to more lethal crimes like murder. Would Brooke kill to protect her reputation?
My theories were flying faster than the speedy cyclists who were zooming down Apple Tree’s long driveway leaving a funnel cloud of dust in their wake. They looked hungry so I sped up my own pace back to the bakery counter. Any detecting would wait until an official detective was on the premises.
The next hour whizzed by as I served hungry and thirsty men and women of all ages. I didn’t see Hank or Brooke, although a weary Stan, dressed in a shiny lime-green and black spandex outfit, stopped by for a sugar infusion. The traffic at the counter eventually slowed, and Nina told me to take a break.
Between the hot October weather and the temperature in the bakery, my body, hair and spirit felt wilted. Not to mention that my brain felt fried from all of the various criminal scenarios I’d been pondering. I finally decided that Hank and Brooke must have left without saying goodbye. That was a relief since I hadn’t been certain I could maintain a poker face if I saw her again.
I grabbed my purse and walked toward the ladies room hoping a splash of cold water on my face, a touch of fresh lipstick on my dry lips, and a brush through my unruly curls might perk me up.
I walked out of the stall at the same instant that Brooke entered the ladies room. Despite riding twenty-five miles on a ninety-degree day, she appeared as fresh and lovely as ever.
“Hi, Laurel.” She smiled. “You look even more fatigued than I do.”
My tongue tied itself into a few knots as I tried to maintain my composure, not an easy task after viewing photos of a naked Brooke earlier in the day. Photos that were still on my iPhone. And how could I encourage Brooke to stick around long enough for Tom to interview her without making her suspicious of me?
“Tough work selling pastries.” I offered a nervous smile. “You and Hank should stop at the bakery. You must need a carb infusion after your workout.”
“I’ll pass on the sweets.” She patted her flat stomach then shot me a conspiratorial smile. “But you know Hank. I’m sure he’ll be panting for something before we take off.”
“Do you have plans for the rest of the day?” I asked in as casual of a manner as I could muster. I didn’t want to blow it for Tom. Not after all of his hard work.
I reminded myself that I’d been in similar situations before. There was no need to freak out just because I could be facing a potential murderer. Beads of sweat dotted my forehead. I dampened a paper towel and dabbed at my face.
“You look odd.” Brooke glanced at me in the mirror as she washed her hands. Her black purse rested on the counter next to the basin. “Are you okay?”
“I feel hotter than a vat of caramel sauce right now.” I fanned myself as I attempted to sound normal. “I never realized how tough it is to work in an apple farm bakery.”
“It’s a more challenging business than most people realize,” Brooke said as she grabbed a paper towel from the holder.
“I guess Dorie is learning firsthand how difficult it can be,” I said. “I hope she’ll be able to keep the farm going now that she doesn’t have to worry about their lender.”
Brooke crumpled the paper towel and aimed it at the garbage can. As it deflected off the rim she asked, “How did you know Lionel was dead?”
I froze in place. The better question was how did Brooke know Lionel was dead?
Unless she was the killer.
I stepped back and my left arm knocked Brooke’s purse off the counter. The contents scattered. A lipstick and compact bounced off my shoes.
And a black gun slid across the floor, landing at Brooke’s feet. She reached down and calmly picked it up.
Crap.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
I tried to push past Brooke to exit the ladies room. She shoved me aside, slammed the door shut and locked it. She aimed the gun straight at my chest.
“I need to get back to the bakery,” I said. “Nina will be pounding on the door if I don’t show up soon.”
“Nice try.” Brooke smirked at me. “I could tell you caught my slip.”
I widened my blue eyes. “I didn’t catch anything. Nada. Truly.”
“Right. Hank told me you’re smarter than you look.”
Thanks for nothing, Hank.
She unlocked the door before motioning at me to walk ahead of her. Just as I contemplated making a break for it she warned me, “Don’t do anything silly. This purse is designed for shooting right through this hole and, trust me, I know how to shoot.”
I didn’t doubt Brooke’s shooting ability, not after my conversation with Glenda. Darn that Glenda and her pistol-toting purses.
“And, if I miss you,” Brooke continued, “there are other women on the premises I won’t hesitate to take care of. Like Hank’s roomie.”
Gran.
Despite the heat, a chill enveloped me as we moved forward down a deserted gravel trail that circled the perimeter of the property. Eventually it would lead to the parking lot. What was her intent? To temporarily get rid of me so she could make an escape?
Or did she have something more permanent in mind?
I slowed my pace hoping Tom would arrive before anything nasty happened. Like my body becoming riddled with bullets.
“Did Lionel threaten to reveal you were once an escort working for a drug lord?” I asked.
Brooke grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.
“Who told you that?”
“My boyfriend, the detective.” I peeked at my watch. “He should arrive here any minute now.”
Her brows drew together. “How did he find out about my past?”
“The task force that took down the money laundering operation found the Aces Financial Group’s loan files, including Axel’s loan on Apple Tree Farm. It contained revealing photos and information about you and your, um, former profession.”
Anger flared and her hand shook briefly. “I was just a dumb college student trying to make ends meet when Hector recruited me. Lionel worked for him in another capacity before they established the finance company. I finally escaped and made a new life for myself, but then…”
“But the past is never far behind you,” I finished for her. “Axel learned your secret, didn’t he?”
She nodded. “Axel submitted his business financials, which I’d prepared, with his Aces loan application. When Lionel saw my name on the reports, he thought it sounded familiar. He looked up my website. Then he remembered me. Too much of me, unfortunately.”
Her eyes misted, but that didn’t distract her from aiming her gun. “The rat passed the information on to Axel. Axel told me if I didn’t ‘fix’ his profit and loss statement to present to his new lender, he’d tell everyone in the county about my past. He left me no choice. I agreed to meet him in the warehouse that evening. Told him I’d take care of everything.”
“So, instead, you took care of Axel,” I said.
“He wasn’t the good guy everyone thought he was,” she said. “So I sweetened him up.”
My cell blared Tom’s ringtone.
“Don’t answer that,” Brooke cried.
“It’s my boyfriend. He’s on his way here to
interview you about Aces Financial Group. He’ll know something is wrong if I don’t pick up.”
She tapped the fingers of her left hand against her hip.
“Okay, call him back, but don’t do or say anything foolish.”
I nodded. She watched as I reached into my purse for the phone. As I hit speed dial she told me to put it on hands free.
It rang three times before Tom answered. “Hi, Sweetheart. I was getting worried about you.”
“Busy selling sweets, um, Sweetheart.”
“You sound weird. Is everything okay?”
“Just tired, and it’s kind of noisy around here.” Although the only noise in the vicinity was the sound of my two frightened knees knocking together.
“I should be there in ten minutes,” he said. “Is Brooke close by?”
Unfortunately, yes.
Brooke grabbed the phone out of my hand and ended the call.
“Hey,” I said. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I have a plan. Now call your honey back and tell him Hank and I left and are on our way to Tahoe. To Harrah’s. That will send him in the opposite direction.”
She handed the phone to me, and it rang before I could make my call.
“Laurel, what happened?” Tom asked.
“Oh, just klutzy me. Sorry.”
“Did you learn anything?” he asked. “I’m anxious to wrap this up so you and I can...” He lowered his voice and started to explain in great physical detail exactly how he planned to entertain me this weekend.
I interrupted before he could get too descriptive. From the look on Brooke’s face, she was enjoying his comments far too much.
“Sounds swell,” I said. “Brooke and Hank left for Tahoe. They’re going to see Bob Dylan tonight. Too bad you weren’t able to get tickets for us. You know how much I love…”
Brooke grabbed the phone and slammed her thumb on the red button, ending the call.
“I didn’t ask you to elaborate,” she said. “What was all that nonsense about Bob Dylan?”
“I was trying to make it more realistic. To give you extra time to get away.” And provide a clue to my boyfriend.
Her eyes narrowed as she appraised me. “I don’t trust you. Hand over that phone.” I reluctantly gave her my cell, wondering if that would be my last contact with any loved ones.
We walked silently for a minute before I spoke up again. “So where is Hank? Won’t he be looking for you?”
“Probably. He’s a sweetheart. You shouldn’t have let him go.”
“I didn’t let him go. He let me go.” I bristled every time I thought back to the day my ex announced he was leaving me for a female client. “Did you know he planned to propose to you?”
Brooke didn’t respond so I turned around. Slowly.
“I really messed up.” One lone teardrop ran down her face. She swiped at it. “Hank’s the most decent guy I’ve ever met.”
My mouth opened and shut. Brooke probably wouldn’t appreciate me mentioning she hadn’t set the bar very high.
I almost felt sorry for my captor. I wondered how to turn this situation around and make her sympathize with me.
“But life goes on,” she continued. “That’s what I told myself when I escaped from Hector’s grasp and set up my accounting practice. If I could change my life once, I can do it again. I just need to remove any remaining obstacles.”
She shoved the gun mere inches from my face. “Now, move it,” she said to the one remaining obstacle to her new life.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
We continued our lonesome march down the trail. Every time I slowed my pace, Brooke jabbed me with the Glock. I became so annoyed that I almost backhanded her one time but stopped myself since that seemed a surefire way to end up dead. As we drew close to the parking lot, my spirits perked up. Certainly once we were in the vicinity of others, I could make a move.
The parking lot was emptier than earlier this morning, but vehicles in every color and make still dotted the large area. Brooke moved within inches of my left side, the gun presumably aimed at me through the convenient opening in the purse.
“If you promise to stay quiet, I’ll let you go once I’ve left town,” she said.
“They’ll eventually track you down,” I replied. “You can’t keep running for the rest of your life. If Lionel recognized you, don’t you think the police or FBI will, too?”
“Lionel Nelson was more useless than a boil on my butt. You wouldn’t believe the size of his blackmail demands once he guessed I killed Axel. Greedy SOB. I did the world a favor by getting rid of him.”
That was one way of looking at murder.
As I tried to think of a diversion, someone called out my name. Then Brooke’s. Her head snapped up as she located the source whose voice I’d already recognized. Gran.
“Yoo-hoo,” Gran called, waving her hands at us. She stood in front of Brooke’s blue Miata parked a few rows away. Standing next to her was Hank. The two of them wore matching black and orange Giants baseball caps. Hank smiled and walked toward us.
“Stop,” Brooke cried out.
He halted, a puzzled look on his face before he continued forward.
Brooke was so close I could hear her heart pounding just as fast as mine.
“I mean it, Hank,” she shouted. “Don’t come any closer.”
She obviously hadn’t dated Hank long enough to know how he would respond. When he smiled, ignored her request and continued to approach us, she pulled the gun out of her purse and shoved it into my side.
“Whoa, Hank,” Gran yelled. “She’s got Laurel. And a bad ass gun.”
Hank stopped, his eyes as large as the caramel apples he held in both hands. He must have bought one for his girlfriend. How sweet.
Even sweeter was the sound of a siren in the distance. Please God it was Tom and not an accident.
Brooke’s eyes raked the parking lot looking for an escape route. An Apple Tree golf cart was parked on the pavement not far from us. Further away, in a small grove of apple trees, Eric Thorson appeared to be sweet-talking a teenage girl. He completely ignored Gran’s shouting. And Brooke’s and my presence as we moved closer to the vehicle.
Brooke shoved me in the cart and pushed me into the driver’s seat. She once again rammed the gun into my side.
“Get us out of here.”
“What if I refuse?” I said, comforted by the fact there were numerous people in the vicinity who might come to my rescue.
She leaned forward and aimed her Glock.
The bullet hit the asphalt two inches in front of Gran.
“The next two bullets are dedicated to you and your grandmother. Do you still need more convincing?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Since Eric had left the key in the ignition, I merely shifted the lever to forward, and we took off through the parking lot. Multiple sirens screamed in the distance accompanied by cyclists yelling at me as I veered around them. I nicked one bicycle tire. The owner raised his fist and shouted a colorful obscenity. I mouthed “Sorry” as our cart rocketed past him.
A young couple holding hands and munching on donuts drifted in front of us. Their eyes opened wide when they saw the golf cart careening toward them. They split apart just in time. His donut flew out of his hand and landed on my lap. If crazy Brooke got her way that could be the last donut I ever laid eyes on.
My eyes teared, either from despair or the wind in my contacts.
“We need to stop,” I cried out. “There’s something in my eye. I can’t see.”
“Forget your eye. You’ll have a bullet in your head if you don’t shut up.”
I blinked and my contact bounced back where it belonged. Just in time for me to realize we were about to enter the corn maze. And not the usual way.
The cart plunged into the stack of hay bales forming the maze. The bales were tossed aside like pillows. I yanked the wheel to the right before we knocked down any of the intrepid maze runners.
The
downward slope steepened, and we flew down the hill headed for the thick woods below. The cart hit a large rock, and I bumped into Brooke’s shoulder. She rocked to the right but didn’t drop the gun.
The terrain was so rough in this section that even a four-wheel drive would have difficulty catching up to us. I could hear voices yelling in the distance, but it wasn’t safe to look back. Not that it was all that safe to look forward either.
Brooke glanced over her shoulder. “Can’t you get this thing to move faster?”
I started to reply when we ricocheted off another boulder. This time Brooke swayed into me, nearly pushing me out of the cart. My left leg dangled in the air, but I maintained my grip on the steering wheel.
Then a bullet pinged off the back of the cart.
Hey! The good guys were becoming as dangerous as my kidnapper. Someone needed to put a stop to this madness before I ended up in the hospital––or the morgue.
Brooke twisted to the right, using both hands to grip her gun and aim it at whoever tailed us.
I suddenly remembered one time when I spun the wheel of a bumper car too quickly, causing Hank to flip out of his seat. Would that same principle apply to a golf cart?
There was no time like the present to find out.
I jerked the wheel all the way to the left. Brooke bounced upward and smashed her head against the roof. She screamed as she fell out of the cart and tumbled down the hill. The gun flew out of her hand and tumbled along with her. She rolled and rolled and rolled until she finally stopped.
Then she remained still.
Now I was moving in the opposite direction––uphill. Headed directly in the path of the golf cart that had been hot on our trail. The driver turned his wheel to the left and narrowly missed colliding with me.
I took my foot off the accelerator but instead of stopping, the cart slid backwards.
The cart bumped against rocks and brush. It finally crashed into a small pine tree and shuddered to a stop. I sat in shock, sighing with relief until a large branch whipped across my face leaving me with a mouthful of needles. Ouch, that stung. I pushed the tree limb to the side and cautiously stepped out of the vehicle.
