Deep Autumn Heat (32 page)

The tall woman walked up to the door and let herself in. When it opened, the door was clear.

“Not her,” Hank said.

Lexie breathed a sigh of relief. Then, Rachel, Scott, Jenny, and Kiki all came to work in succession. Each time the door opened, it was clear.

“It wasn’t any of them. Maybe it
was
Paige after all,” Lexie said in surprise.

The alley was quiet for a long time as the early morning rays appeared and the lamp switched off.

“I’m going to fast forward, okay?” Hank said, moving his mouse.

In a blur, Lexie saw a fuzzy figure in the screen. “Stop!” she cried. “Go back. Rewind.”

Hank rewound the feed to just before the figure appeared. Then he hit play. Lexie watched, transfixed, as the kitchen door opened, this time from the inside. A figure emerged, head down, and glanced quickly around the alleyway. Almost too fast to see, the figure’s hand flashed up and back.

“Wait,” Cole said. “Did you see that?”

“Yep,” said Hank. “We’ll come back to that in a moment.”

As the figure reached for the door handle with a gloved hand, the person’s profile came into view for a quick second. When the door opened fully, it was clear there was a small piece of white paper taped to it. Something registered with Lexie, and she gasped. “Oh, no!”

Cole looked at her sharply. “You recognize this person?”

“I think so, but I need to be sure. Can we watch it again in slow motion?”

“Yes,” he said. “Hank?”

“You got it,” Hank said, as he cued it up again. “Here it is in slo-mo.”

Frame by frame, the feed played, starting with a quiet alley. With bated breath, Lexie watched as the door opened and the figure—unidentifiable at first—looked around the alley and then turned. As the figure lifted up a hand and faced the door, Lexie saw her profile clearly. “There! Pause it!” Hank complied. Lexie turned to Buster and he gave her a grim nod, indicating that he agreed with her identification.

“We know who it is,” she said. “She’s an LMK employee.”

“I’ve seen her in your place. I’m sorry,” Cole said, genuine empathy in his voice. “If it would be easier, I can pick her up while you’re here so you won’t have to face her.”

Lexie shook her head. “No. I’m coming with you. I want to talk to her. Find out why.”

“She may not tell you,” Cole said.

“I know. But I still need the closure.”

Cole nodded his assent. “Hank, could you tag the digital feed as evidence, please, and start the paperwork for processing?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“All right. We’re done here for now. Shall we?” Cole asked, gesturing toward the door to the conference room.

Lexie nodded. Buster came around the table and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be over soon,” he whispered. Lexie nodded sadly as she allowed herself to be led out of the sheriff’s station.

“Jennifer Arthur, you’re under arrest for violation of Massachusetts General Law Chapter 265, Section 43, also known as the Anti-Stalking Law,” Cole stated authoritatively.

Jenny’s eyes went wide as Cole cuffed her hands behind her back and methodically read her her Miranda rights. “What? Oh, my, gosh, this can’t be happening! Lexie!” she beseeched. The entire staff of the LMK stopped what they were doing in the kitchen and turned to watch the action unfold.

Lexie looked at Jenny and shook her head.
No
.

“Lexie! I didn’t do it!”

“No,” Lexie said, holding up her hand. “Don’t deny it. I saw you.”

“We have you on camera, Miss Arthur,” Cole confirmed.

Jenny looked shocked. “C-camera? Where?” She looked around nervously.

“We installed it under Buster’s window, and it gave us a clear line of vision to the back door of the restaurant,” Cole said. “It’ll hold up as pretty compelling evidence in court.”

Jenny slumped as she realized that she had been caught. Her petite frame looked even tinier, more fragile, next to Cole’s robust form. “Lexie, I’m so sorry.”

Lexie nearly melted, but instead she crossed her arms in front of her, forcing herself to remain steely. “Why? Why did you do it?” she asked quietly.

“Remember, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” Cole cautioned.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Jenny said miserably. “Everything’s ruined.”

“Then tell me why,” Lexie implored. “I need to know why you’d do this to me.”

Jenny spoke slowly, her eyes downcast. “I … I wanted to start my own restaurant. I was planning on quitting in a few months. I’ve been taking cooking and baking classes at the culinary institute for the past year, but nothing I make is as good as that cake. I thought,” she swallowed before continuing, “I thought if I had one really great recipe, I’d be set.”

“You were going to open your own place with a recipe you
stole
from me?” Lexie asked incredulously. With a start of surprise, Lexie came to the unsavory realization that every excuse Jenny had given her over the past year had been a lie. “I trusted you.”

“I know,” the young woman said, sounding even more pathetic than she looked. “I know. And I used you.”

“Why did you send me those horrible notes?”

“I tried every way I could think of to get ahold of that recipe. First, I asked if you would let me do the evening baking with you. I thought you might just give me the recipe. But you always said no.”

“I needed more help with food prep than with the baking,” Lexie murmured.

“Then I tried to get the recipe from your filing cabinets, but it wasn’t in there.”

“I didn’t write it down.”

“I’m sorry. So sorry,” Jenny said, beginning to weep. “I thought if I pushed you a little, you might give it up.”

“It didn’t push me to do anything. For the longest time, I thought it was Paige Sinclair playing a sick joke. When I realized it might not be her—” Lexie shook her head, recalling how afraid she’d been. “Jenny, you were a great employee. I would have encouraged you to attend culinary school and flex your muscles a bit more in the kitchen. I would have helped you make a signature dish that was all your own. This could have turned out much differently. Instead, you deliberately lied to me, threatened me, and tried to steal from me.”

Fat tears rolled down Jenny’s cheeks as she sobbed in earnest. “Please forgive me, Lexie. You’ve been nothing but a great boss. I’m so sorry,” she cried.

The young woman looked wretched. Her face was red and blotchy from crying. Several strands had come free from her ponytail, giving her an even more bedraggled appearance. Jenny Arthur was utterly defeated.

All Lexie felt for her was pity. “I’m sorry, too,” she said quietly. Then she looked away.

Except for Jenny’s crying, the kitchen was dead silent. Cole’s footsteps sounded hard and
hollow on the stone floor as he led Jenny away. A burning sensation warmed Lexie’s cheeks and her head throbbed. Jenny was the criminal, yet she was the one who was embarrassed. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She gave an incredulous little snort. Before she burst into nervous fits of laughter, she felt a comforting warmth around her shoulders.

Buster. Her rock.

Gently, he walked her into the now-empty dining room and nudged her into a booth. Then he brought her a cup of tea.

“Glad it’s over,” he said.

The most wonderful thing about Buster was that because he didn’t talk much, he never expected a response in return. Lexie could simply sit there quietly and settle her body and her mind. And so she did.

Lexie wrapped her fingers around the teacup, feeling its warmth seep into her hands, then up her arms. She took a sip. The tea slid down her throat—hot, smooth, and simply perfect. The lines on Buster’s craggy, worn face were as comforting to her as the drink was.

Slowly, she started to feel better. In a half an hour, when customers started to trickle in for lunch, she nodded to Buster. He nodded back and together they returned to the kitchen. Things were in full swing, and—to her staff’s credit—no one gave her any odd looks. She was simply enveloped back into the rhythm of the day as if it had never been interrupted. Pleased and proud of their professionalism, she vowed to take each person aside to thank them.

But later. Much later. Now, she would work.

It wasn’t until later on in the evening, after all the unfortunate excitement had died down, that she had a chance to think. Her staff had gone home and even Buster had called it a night, telling her he was going to Boston to take care of something urgent. The front of the LMK was dark and the kitchen was quiet once again, the only sound being the slow drip of the faucet she had yet to get repaired. In the morning, she’d have Buster call Luke Bedwin to come out and take a look.

As she gently mixed muffin dough, Lexie smiled wearily to herself. She had to be over the hump, right? For better or for worse, Sebastian was out of her life, even though living without him was going to be tough. And things were running smoothly with LMK Catering. In fact, she had three big events coming up over the next few weeks, including Cameron’s cocktail party and the Millers’ Thanksgiving affair in Boston. Was it really almost Thanksgiving? Time seemed to slip by so quickly these days.

So why wasn’t she feeling better, then?

After the dough was prepared, she covered it and put it in the refrigerator to bake tomorrow morning. Heading to the pantry to gather her coconut cake ingredients, she realized she was out of cream of coconut.

“Damn,” Lexie cursed out loud. Martins’ Market had long since closed, and there was no convenience store in town that would carry it, even if one happened to still be open. Then she remembered that she might have some in the root cellar.

A flicker of doubt crossed her mind—she’d been told not to go anywhere alone—but she quickly brushed it aside. It would take only a few moments, and besides, she couldn’t live her life in fear.

Grabbing her coat from its hook, she slipped out the back door into the quiet, chilly alley behind the LMK. The small, bare bulb above the door frame provided the only illumination, but it was just five feet to the entrance of the root cellar, and Lexie knew the way blindfolded. The smell of a wood fire suffused the air, and beneath it she could sense the distant smell of snow. Winter would soon be here, blanketing Star Harbor in icy coldness.

She reached the wooden doors to the cellar and quickly undid the always unlocked bolt that secured the doors together. She lifted first one door, then the next, flipping both 180 degrees on their hinges so they were laying on the ground. A rickety wooden staircase led six feet below to the cellar, and Lexie gamely clambered down. Thanks to Buster’s improvements, a small light fixture was waiting for her at the base, and she pulled the metal string.

Dim light spread into the cellar, not quite reaching the crevasses of the still-dark corners.
The root cellar wasn’t huge—maybe fifteen feet by twenty. Five large metal utility shelves were arranged in the center of the room, and neatly stacked bushels of hardy fruits and root vegetables lined the walls. The remains of an old hearth, part of the building’s original foundation, was situated to the right of the stairwell.

If Lexie remembered correctly, she’d placed the cream of coconut cans on the back side of the far shelf. She walked toward it, but just as she reached it, she heard a creaking sound. Whirling toward the stairs, all she saw before the light went out was a broad back.

Panic filled her chest and a rush of adrenaline coursed through her body. Who was there? “Buster?” she called out, before she could stop herself. Inwardly, she cursed.
Idiot!
If it wasn’t Buster, she’d just revealed her location to whoever was in the cellar with her. She had no idea where the person was, but there was no way out except up those wooden stairs. As silently as she could, she crept around the back of the last shelf toward the stairwell, hoping that the intruder would head toward the sound of her voice.

Within a matter of moments, she reached the stairs. Knowing that they would creak when she used them, she planned to race up as fast as she could. Then, she made her move. Swiftly, she climbed up, but before she’d even reached the third step, she felt a hand clamp on her upper arm.

She shrieked as she was violently jerked back down the stairs. “Get off me!” Lexie lashed out with her hands, but her wrists were quickly pinned to her sides. When she kicked the space in front of her, she heard a low grunt before she was knocked to the ground.

Though she twisted and fought, she was easily flipped onto her back. Her attacker straddled her body, his heavy weight pressing down on her hips, as he kept her arms pinioned above her head. Lexie did the one thing she could do. She screamed as loudly as possible.

“Help! Help me! Help!”

Her assailant released one of her hands to strike her in the face. She screamed again.

“Shut up, Alexandra.”

Stars swam before her eyes as she reeled from the hard hit to her cheek. Oh, God, she
recognized that voice. In a million years, she’d never forget it. That slightly gravelly whine that could by turns wheedle and plead, then get nasty in a flash.

It was Frank. He was here.

Panic swelled into outright fear, but she had to stay strong. Had to stay focused so she could get out of here. “Wh-what are you doing here?” Shocked as she was, her voice came out sounding slightly strangled. She struggled against him. “Let me up! Please!”

“Not a chance, Alexandra. I’ve waited too long to have you under me. Where you belong.”

“Frank,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Why don’t we get out of here, go up to the restaurant and talk? I’ll make us some tea and we can—”

“Tea? You think I came all the way to Star Harbor to have a cup of tea?” He snorted.

“Look, I can’t even see you,” she said, tamping down the fright that threatened to overwhelm her. He would hurt her badly if he was this angry. She had to keep him calm. “Let’s just go upstairs and—”

“I said
shut up
. This is the first time in years I’ve had you alone and all you can do is gab, gab, gab. Well, it’s
my
turn to do the talking. I’ve been creeping in the shadows for long enough. I’m tired of it. I’ve watched you for months, waiting to make my move. Did you know that I came clear across the country? Took me some time to find you, too. Calling yourself Lexie instead of Alexandra. Taking your mother’s maiden name to make yourself harder to trace. That was smart. Real smart. But not smart enough.”