Fudge-Laced Felonies (23 page)

Despite the bruises and marks even makeup couldn’t hide, I had to be honest: I was enjoying myself. I had no idea what investigating this case would entail, but it was definitely a wild ride.

I lined up candy paper cups in a nine-by-thirteen-inch pan as I perused the list of nut clusters I had to make. Cashews again? “Aunt Eunice, you using the milk or the dark chocolate?”

“Whichever.”

I chose the milk, solely because I loved the color. The deep, satiny sheen. I lifted the spoon and held it high, watching as the liquid poured in a glorious stream. Gazing at chocolate as it melted and swirled in the pan helped me think. It was almost hypnotic.

I caught Aunt Eunice watching me and replaced the spoon.

“Summer”—she sat across the scarred wooden table, dropping dippers of dark chocolate onto the slab in front of her—“pay attention. You’re miles away.”

“I was thinking of ways to kill someone with chocolate. If you were to drown in it—literally, I mean— would you mind? We’re talking about chocolate here.”

“Good heavens!”

“Well?”

“I guess not. If I had to pick between drowning in anything or chocolate, I’d definitely pick chocolate.”

“Me, too.”

“This case getting to you?”

“Yes.” My shoulders slumped. “I had every intention of devoting myself to this store completely. Instead, you’re the one who’s been running things. I pop in now and then to make candy, but that’s about it.”

“And? I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“And sometimes Ethan seems interested in me. Protective. More like a lover than a friend. At other times, he treats me like I’m a nuisance.”

“You’re more than a nuisance to him.” Aunt Eunice stood and picked up her tray. “That man cares for you more than anything. I can see it in his eyes when he doesn’t think anyone is looking. Be patient.” She headed toward the refrigerator. “Leave the tray there and take out the garbage, would you? I’ll finish up here. Then we can get home.”

“Sounds great.” I headed to the sink, washed my hands, unplugged my cell phone from where I’d left it charging, and slid it into the pocket of my apron. Its weight banging against my thigh would help me remember to take it home.

The garbage was heavy, and after I’d tugged the plastic bag from the bin, I slung it over my shoulder like Santa’s bag of toys. I grunted under its weight. Aunt Eunice ran circles around me, and she was thirty years older.

Using my hip, I pushed the back door open then allowed the weight of the bag to carry me through. I tripped, landing on my knees. Pebbles poked through the thin fabric of my pants, sending sharp stabs of pain up my leg. The garbage bag broke open, and its contents spilled around me.

Bracing my hands under me, I started to push to my feet, but a blow to my head knocked me back. Asphalt pressed into my cheek. The alley tilted sideways. My vision blurred.

The world closed in and faded to black.

Nineteen

My nose caught a whiff of something musty. I sneezed, and my head pounded. Someone had stuffed something foul in my mouth, preventing my sneeze from going anywhere. I opened my eyes to nothing. A blanket of darkness engulfed me in a cocoon of fear. I tried to stretch my arms and legs. No room. A rope of some kind cut off the circulation in my wrists. Curled into a fetal position, I lay still. Think, Summer. Think your way out of here.

I shoved my tongue against the offending object. The cloth was rough yet slimy, and I gagged. It remained in place. Where was I? I remembered taking out the garbage and tripping. Then someone hit me in the back of the head with something. Aunt Eunice must be frantic by now. I squirmed, jerking like a hooked worm, and got absolutely nowhere.

Panting, I told myself to calm down. Concentrate. My chest rose and fell like the ocean during a hurricane. One, two, three. . . I struggled to regulate my breathing. I detested small spaces. My breath hissed through my nostrils.

I hated the dark. Ever since I’d got lost in the woods when I was eight. But to be trussed up like a turkey and left alone was more than I could bear. Fear, cold and suffocating, weighed me down.

God, help me. I wanted to feel Ethan’s kiss bruising my lips. In love or anger, I didn’t care at this point. He could tell me what to do whenever he wanted. I’d try to listen. I would.

Tears poured down my cheeks, burning a trail over my skin. Then anger joined the terror, and I screamed beneath my gag, bucking my body up and down until exhaustion overtook me. My wrists bled onto whatever my captor bound me with.

I lay there sobbing. Was this where my life would end up? Hidden and tied in a—what? Where was I?

I rubbed my hands back and forth, feeling the rough fibers of carpet. Rolling from side to side took less than two rolls, and my knees knocked against something hard. Like metal. The trunk of a car! From the odor emanating under me, it was an old car.

Something scraped from outside my prison. Sounded like the crunching of pebbles. Footsteps?

I howled, sounding more like an injured bloodhound than a woman in trouble. Whoever waited outside banged on the trunk. My howl turned to a yelp, and I cringed, shrinking as small as possible.

Okay, no help there. I racked my brain for a solution to the latest dilemma I’d managed to get myself into. I came up with nothing until a still, small voice spoke to my heart telling me to call on Him.

I’m sorry, God. Once again I tried doing things on my own. Not stopping to ask for Your help. Well, I’m asking now. Please show me a way out of this.

My eyes strained through the murky darkness. They adjusted enough for me to make out a faint glow emanating through the cracked taillight. Night had fallen. A full moon cast shadows. I could distinguish the tall weeds and rocks of a rarely traveled dirt road.

Instinct told me my captor planned to leave me. Alone. Undiscovered. My temper flew to the surface. Not if I had anything to say about it. I didn’t think it was part of God’s plan for an old rusty car to be my coffin. Armed with His strength, I got to work.

I tightened into a ball at the pace of a snail, taking care not to make a loud noise. I couldn’t tell whether my captor stood guard or not. I didn’t want to pop the trunk and face some maniac ready to bash in my skull with a crowbar. My head hurt enough, thank you very much.

Curled like a roly-poly bug, I slid my arms down and around my bound legs until my tied hands were in front of me. Thank You, God. My captor used frayed rope. Obviously not a big fan of television. Any dummy knows you secure a prisoner with zip ties now. Truly had been secured with zip ties. Was it the same person? Why use something different on me?

No longer tied up like a pig ready for roasting, I lifted my hands and ripped the tape holding my gag. I stifled the scream threatening to erupt.

Imitating a rodent gnawing on a ball of string, I chewed the rope. Fibers tasting of oil stuck to my tongue. I spat and rubbed my hands along the sides of my prison, searching for something sharp. Ouch! A piece of metal stuck out near my head. I positioned my arms and sawed furiously. By the time I’d finished, my muscles ached. I tried stretching, but even my small frame didn’t leave much room. Escape was hard work. If I managed to free myself, I doubted I’d be able to take more than two steps. Except for the rapid rise and fall of my chest, I could be a corpse.

I was determined not to be.

I don’t know how long it took to free my hands, but my neck throbbed when I’d finished. Rope fibers still stuck in my teeth. Curling back into a curved position,

I started on the ropes around my ankles, a more difficult job. I needed to feel my way, stretching my arms longer than they wanted to go. My shoulder cramped up in no time.

Please, God, this is taking too long. What if the person comes back? I can’t last until morning. Alone. In the dark. You know I’m nothing but a big chicken.

In a final burst of strength, I scraped the rope over my ankles, hissing at the pain searing them. Yep, I’d left my DNA behind. I hoped it was enough for a search party to confirm the skin as mine.

The burning sensation abated, and I bruised my elbow knocking the backseat of the car flat. Who was the genius who first called it the funny bone? Nothing funny about hitting it. I opened the backseat door, crawled out, and took a deep breath of freedom.

The serenade of locusts and bullfrogs greeted me. The sky filled with roiling clouds. I couldn’t call the twin tire tracks through the weeds a road in any aspect. It resembled the path the Headless Horseman might have traveled through a shadowy forest. My heart skipped a beat.

I glanced from side to side, wondering which way to go. Okay, Lord, help me again. Isn’t it amazing how we turn to Him automatically when we’re in trouble? I vowed to be different if I escaped these haunted woods in one piece. A chill came over me, and I shoved my hands into the pockets of my apron.

My cell phone! Hallelujah! I’d forgotten. Quicker than the lightning bolts streaking across the sky, my finger punched in Ethan’s speed dial number.

“Ethan. Thank You, Lord. You’ve got to help me. Someone’s kidnapped me.”

“Summer, where are you? We’ve been frantic.” My insides melted, knowing how frightened he was.

I studied the path again then stared into the treetops. It was like trying to peer through ink. “I don’t know. It’s pitch-black, and there’s nothing here. I’m standing on a road that’s off the beaten path.”

“Are you okay?”

“My elbow hurts, and I’ve scraped my wrists and ankles, maybe bleeding. Someone hit me over the head, tied me up, gagged me with a nasty cloth, and threw me in the trunk of a car. Ethan, I don’t think I’ve ever been more frightened than I am now. What if they come back to kill me?”

“Look, stay on the phone. Joe is trying to—” Click.

Great. I glanced at my phone. I’d lost service. Wouldn’t you know it? I tried dialing Ethan again. Nothing. Okay. Alone again. Oops, sorry, Lord. I’m never alone. How soon I forget. But this sure is a forlorn-looking place. I prayed there would be a way for Joe to trace my location.

I froze. Why hadn’t my captor taken the phone? Hope sprang. Had they been interrupted? Maybe Aunt Eunice had yelled out to see what took me so long. Thank You, Lord, for small favors.

The Bible tells us the correct path isn’t always the easiest. I chose the path the car appeared to have come from. I stared through the dark, trying to determine the model of the automobile. An Impala? I hadn’t seen one in years. I darted to the driver’s side and peered in. No keys.

I turned back and studied the trail. If the car had trouble coming down this poor excuse for a road, going back in the direction it came from made sense to me.

Agony hit me with every step. I thought I’d been sore earlier in the day. Or was it yesterday? A vacation compared to this. Crawling out of the car and walking for what seemed like an hour gave me a good idea what the word excruciating meant. My wrists and ankles stung like the fury of fire ant bites. The bottoms of my feet throbbed. My shoulders felt permanently warped. Stooped. Cemented there with a glue called pain.

I plopped on the ground, leaning back against a fallen log. I wanted an ice-cold diet cola. I wanted to plunge my hands, wrist deep, into a pan of warm melted chocolate. I wanted an air conditioner. I plucked my sweaty blouse away from my body. Why did someone have to kidnap me in July? The hottest month in the Ozark foothills. The air was so thick I could almost quench my thirst.

I wished for autumn and juicy muscadine grapes. Even nasty persimmons. Pecans, huckleberries, anything safe to eat. I bolted to my feet. Please tell me I haven’t been sitting in poison ivy. Wouldn’t that make my day?

I checked the phone reception again. Nothing. Sliding my aching feet along the weed-grown path, I moved like a zombie, moaning and swinging my arms. I exaggerated the swings until I giggled, picturing myself looking like an intoxicated gorilla.

Admit it, Summer. You have no idea where you are or where you’re headed, and you’re losing your mind.

I stopped. I could tell from the shade of darkness the night was late. Early morning, more likely. My eyelids grew heavy, and my head ached. I felt the goose egg above my neck.

Summer, you might as well sit down and give it up. The hard ground met my rear end abruptly. Add one more body part to my list of hurts. A fun movement that sent me down a small hill. I folded my arms over my knees. When I reached the bottom, I lowered my head and cried.

To make matters worse, storm clouds were about to release their wares in a torrent. My clothes clung to my body. I panted in the thick air. Lightning zigzagged across the sky, followed by booms of thunder.

I lifted my tear-raw face to the heavens. The first big raindrop plopped in the center of my forehead. Within minutes, Mountain Shadows’ drought ended. The hard, cracked ground ran beneath a ton of water.

I’d chosen to rest in a place now sitting under at least an inch of water. Great. I’d decided to have my breakdown in a dried creek bed. Soon I’d find myself in a precarious situation. I snorted. As if the situation I’d been in all day wasn’t bad enough.

I scrambled up the sides of the shallow wash, ducking as the sky lit up like an exploding flashbulb. My scream joined the cymbal crash of the thunder. The top of a mountain during a July thunderstorm wasn’t a safe place to be. Not with lightning dancing across the sky. How did the valley fare? Had Uncle Roy patched the hole in the roof?

Once I’d pulled my aching, soaked, and now muddy self back to the path, I hobbled down it. It would be safer to keep moving. The road started somewhere.

The wet apron chafed my neck. I removed it and tied it around my waist. The worthless cell phone banged against my thigh, taunting me. Reminding me of its uselessness.

Weeds and bushes dripping with rain slapped against my legs, pressing, for just a second, with each pass. With the humidity, I was as wet inside as out. I wanted to be home. I wanted Ethan to wrap his arms around me. I didn’t care if the loving came with a lecture or not.

As the sun’s rays peeked their first glorious light over the horizon, I stumbled—literally—onto the road. I landed on my knees, scraping my palms. What’s one more scrape? Struggling to get back on my feet, I allowed a grin to spread across my face. I’d made it. I had no idea which road I’d fallen upon, and I didn’t care. I was out of the woods.