Chocolate-Covered Crime (15 page)

“I can’t believe you’re smiling.”=" N drawb April folded her arms. “I thank God you didn’t drag me into those dark woods. That farmer’s house was terrifying enough. Now you’ve got my brother hooked. Yes”—she nodded at my stunned look— “that’s exactly what it is. You’re addicted.”

“Ethan is a grown man. I’m not forcing him to help me.”

“Yes, you are. He loves you. He’s going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means going with you on your wild-goose chases. Had it even entered your silly head that he could have been shot out there? He’s my brother!” She stood and glowered at me.

“No! None of the victims have been shot. How was I supposed to know? But I made a promise. . .”

“Oh please. Don’t try to justify yourself. Last time, you wanted to save a woman who reminded you of the night your parents died. Now, it’s a promise to someone you didn’t care much for in the first place.”

My mouth dropped open. I’d never seen April this angry. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll stop. Before something bad happens.” She stomped her foot.

“I can’t. I received threatening letters.”

“Again—you’re justifying. Why don’t you just take the hint?” She spun and marched from the room, brushing past the maid with my water.

I accepted the offered glass and stared into its depths. My friend was right. I’d use any means to justify solving this mystery. I couldn’t fault her feelings. She only cared about her brother. Maybe I should leave things to Joe and his fellow officers. But could I? And Ethan. What did I do about him? Should I break off our engagement until the case was solved? If he wasn’t around me, he’d be safe. Tears welled. Would he even take me back if I did that? I set the water on the coffee table.

“What’s on your mind?” I raised my head to see Ethan leaning against the doorjamb. His hair was mussed from our run. Most of the powder had disappeared, turning him back into the handsome thirty-three-year-old I fell in love with. “You and April have a fight?”

I shrugged, blinking and swallowing against what promised to be a doozy of a sob fest. Ethan sat next to me and took my hands in his. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t keep doing this to you.” I sniffed. “April’s right. I’m addicted. I need to go to a recovery group or something. I need to break up with you until I’m healed.”

“What?” He chuckled then straightened. His smile faded. “You’re serious?”

“I can’t keep putting you in danger. It isn’t fair.” Squaring my shoulders, I took a deep breath and forced myself to stare into his eyes. “I’m calling off the wedding until I find Mae Belle’s killer. Then if you still want me, and I’ve recovered from my crazy obses=" ve recovsion, we’ll resume our relationship.”

“What did my sister say to you?” The pained look on Ethan’s face almost undid my steely resolve.

“She told me the truth.” I stood, letting the throw fall to the cushions. I pulled Ethan’s ring from my finger and placed it on the coffee table. “I can’t put you in harm’s way. Don’t worry about me.” My chin quivered. “I’ll get a ride home.”

“Summer.” His voice broke.

Forcing my back to remain straight, my gaze focused on the door, I marched from the room, down the hall, and out the front door. It wasn’t until a mile down the road that the tears I’d been holding spilled down my cheeks. I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the gut-wrenching pain. The hurt I’d just caused Ethan was nothing compared to what I’d experience should something happen to him because of my stubbornness to continue this detective thing.

Lights cut through the night as an automobile crested the top of a hill. I darted behind a bush as Ethan’s truck sped in the direction of my house. I settled in, making a seat in a pile of pine needles until I deemed enough time had passed and he’d given up and gone home.

My finger felt naked without the weight of his ring. I rubbed the empty spot, and the flow of tears increased. I was a doofus. I was willing to forgo something wonderful, for something that might get me killed. Why did Ethan waste his time on me? At the thought, a sob escaped until the woods resonated with the sound of my cries.

I wrapped my arms around my bent knees and gave in to the grief. If the trench coat–covered suspect heard me, I wouldn’t put up a fight. Gun or not. A twig snapped. I leaped to my feet. Maybe I was a coward after all and still in love with life. Fleeing seemed the best option.

A branch slapped my face. I put a hand to my cheek and felt wetness that didn’t come from tears. Icy tentacles of fear spurred me away from an unseen predator. Having been lost in the ache of my rash decision, I hadn’t headed back to the road. Instead, I found myself in unfamiliar territory, fighting to remove my tangled hair from a tree’s spiky fingers. When had I lost the wig? During my flight with Ethan?

The sweater I wore did little to ward off the evening chill. Silence echoed around me. I stopped in a clearing and stared into the night sky. I should have paid more attention to Ethan’s explanations of the stars. I had no idea which way to turn.

Snap!

I whirled and ran, putting a hand to my chest to keep my heart from pounding free of my rib cage.

Lord, help me
. What had I done? Leaving Ethan dejected on the sofa of Mason’s home then running blind. Whispers scratched through the woods, following me in my panic. I’d been calmer a few months ago, running through the woods with a madman singing my name. A silent pursuer sent jolts of terror through me. I much preferred knowing who stalked me. =" or not.And, again, I’d left my cell phone at home. Idiot!

“Hello?” A woman’s voice. I turned from side to side and tried to determine the direction. “Helloooo!”

I opened my mouth to answer then clamped it shut. If she was the one seeking me, I wouldn’t volunteer my position. Let her search. I hunkered behind some thick brush to wait.

Clouds moved, obscuring the moon and casting me into darkness so thick I thought I could move it aside with my hand. Instead of frightening me further, it soothed me. If I couldn’t see her, she couldn’t find me, right? I breathed as slowly and quietly as possible, measuring each breath with an invisible ruler. Timing each rise and fall of my chest.

My eyes adjusted, and I could make out shadows. No more eerie greetings floated through the night. I pushed the illumination button on my watch. Ten o’clock. The green glow shone like a searchlight.
Horror
. I clapped a hand over the face to hide it and shook my head at my stupidity.

Leaves rustled overhead, disturbed by unseen animals. I felt myself becoming one with my surroundings and envisioned myself as queen of the forest. Queen of the foolish was more like it. How long until the woman of the ghostly voice stepped into the clearing? How much time had passed? Five minutes? Ten?
Lord, why didn’t You give me patience?

I took the question back as soon as I asked. Patience really wasn’t something I wanted Him to teach me. I’d seen what others had gone through after asking. Maybe I’d ask for wisdom. Another thing I seemed to be lacking.

A footfall sounded nearby. I held my breath. What was the woman doing? My body tensed in expectation of pouncing when she came in my sight. Armed with nothing but my flashlight. . .I patted my pockets. Nope. Ethan still had it. My only weapon would be the element of surprise.

There!
I launched, tackling her. The air left her in a whoosh. The clouds parted. I stared into a familiar face.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Sherry, Mae Belle’s former secretary, rolled me to the forest floor. I spun and landed on my face, spitting out dirt and dried leaves, then leaped to my feet quicker than the chubby woman across from me. “Why are you chasing me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She stood and brushed mud from the seat of her pants. Her expression remained bland, as her gaze shifted over my left shoulder.

“Then what are you doing out here?”

“Looking for bats.” Her gaze ran over me. “What are you doing out here, dressed in. . .What are you wearing?”

“A costume.” A draft blew across my backside. I glanced behind me, moving like a dog chasing its tail, until I caught a glimpse of my behind. A large rip in the back separated the bodice partly from the skirt of the dress, exposing my polkadot undies. Thinking myself clever, I’d purposely matched them to the dress. Thankfully, the woods were dark. If only I could ward off the night breeze. And keep my back from Sherry’s sight.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re one of the privileged few to attend Mason White’s party while the rest of us stomp through the woods in search of more innocent pleasure. Everyone knows what kinds of things go on at his parties. Then they judge everyone else, instead of looking at their own exploits.” She rummaged through a pile of dead brush and pulled out a striped canvas duffel bag. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way. Have a good evening.”

“What’s in the bag, Sherry? A hat, a coat, a gun?” Maybe it was my imagination, but the woman seemed awfully defensive about Mason’s party.

“You’re insane.” She held the bag behind her back. “It’s just bat-hunting tools.”

“Why are you hiding it?” I lunged for the bag. Sherry stepped backward, tripped over a log, and landed on a briar bush. If I hadn’t thought I was staring at the one who shot at me, I would’ve laughed.

A crash through the brush sent Sherry scrambling for cover, dragging her bag of tricks behind her. I dove into a thicket. Peeking from my hiding place, I couldn’t locate Sherry. For a large woman, she moved silently. On my hands and knees, I scurried in the direction I thought the road would be and prayed the movement through the woods belonged to an animal. A small one with no teeth or claws.

My knees caught in what was left of my skirt and ripped the fabric further. With one hand, I bunched the clothes around my waist and duckwalked the rest of the way, keeping my head low. A horn honked. I hadn’t ventured as far into the woods as I’d thought. Straightening, I darted in the direction of the sound and what promised freedom from shadows and weird nighttime rodent hunters.

I burst from the bushes, narrowly missing becoming roadkill as a truck sped past. The piece of dress I’d held in order not to flash my unmentionables ripped from my hand and whipped like a tattered flag to snag on a bush.

Wonderful. Before another car could pass and catch me in a state of disarray, I tied my sweater sarong-style around my waist. It didn’t cover everything, leaving most of my right thigh bare, but hopefully it was enough to keep me from being arrested for indecent exposure. Goose pimples rising on the flesh of my arms, I began my trek home.

After a mile, the cheap pumps I’d slipped on my feet rubbed blisters the size of molehills on my =" for heels. I kicked them off, leaving them on the side of the road. Several times I found myself close to tears as another fit of shivering overtook me. Loneliness formed a heavy cloud over me, so thick I thought I’d suffocate. The absence of vehicles traveling in either direction clarified the stupidity of running through the night. At this point I wasn’t picky. I’d go anywhere something with four wheels headed. Somewhere there would be people. I brushed aside Uncle Roy’s warnings of hitchhiking.

Being alone left me with too much time to think, and I remembered how I’d ended in that predicament. Best friend or not, April could jump in a lake. I’d get my ring back from Ethan, if he’d accept my apology, and let God handle our safety. I was a fool to think otherwise.

To take my mind off my aching feet and chilly bottom, I mulled over the facts from Mae Belle’s death. Two victims, both stabbed. Two different weapons. One bloody glove in a Dumpster. I made a mental note to ask Joe whether he’d found out who it belonged to. A threatening letter. A chocolate-covered rat. A kitten. Oh yeah. They didn’t count. Stupid game.

Someone taking shots at me and Ethan. I shook my head. Nothing tied together. The whole thing wound tighter than a proficient liar’s alibi.

Sherry burst from a stand of evergreens ahead of me, not looking in my direction, and marched forward. How had she gotten in front of me? Did she live close by? She seemed to know these woods well. My thoughts scattered. I quickened my pace to keep her in sight, still wondering what the canvas bag slung over her shoulder contained. My stocking feet were rasped by the decaying foliage on the road’s shoulder.

A car sat on the crest of the hill. Sherry increased her pace, approached the sedan, tossed the bag through an open window, slid behind the wheel, then sped away. Wonderful. I crossed my arms tighter around myself, hunched my shoulders, and continued the next mile home.

Clouds obscured the moon. I stared at the ground to gauge where to place my next step. Small sticks and stones poked my feet. How long until my family realized I hadn’t made it home?

Lights pierced the darkness. I paused by the roadside, my left thumb extended in the universal language of hitchhikers. At this point, I no longer cared how I looked or how I’d get home.

The vehicle swerved toward me, not slowing. I squinted, trying to make out the driver before I flung myself behind a stout tree. I felt the
whoosh
as the car sped past. Moments later, tires squealed as the driver turned for another pass. I tore myself out of the prickly bush I’d landed in and plunged headlong back into the woods.