The sound of bakeware being smashed in the kitchen made her stop short. Tucker plowed into her from behind and she felt the gun at the small of her back.
“What was that?” he demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you were here alone.”
“I was.” Mel felt suddenly queasy. If one of her friends had come back or if it was Joe visiting, she could not let them be harmed. “Please, don’t hurt anyone else. I’ll do whatever you want but, please, if someone is here, let them go.”
“It’s too late for that,” Tucker snarled. “They’re ruining my plan.”
He lifted his gun and charged toward the kitchen, pulling Mel behind him by gripping her wrist with one hand. He raised his foot to kick the swinging door open but it slammed out at him, clipping his knee and knocking him off balance.
Tucker went down, pulling Mel with him. She yanked her wrist out of his grip and scurried away from him. Tucker rolled to his side and lifted his gun. He fired a shot at the man looming in the doorway. Dwight Pickard. Thankfully, Dwight was already in motion, and the shot missed him as he dove down to scoop up Mel while at the same time he threw a massive cupcake tin at Tucker, clipping him in the face. It hit his temple with a crunch and a clang, cut his forehead, and blood spurted down over his eyes.
That was the last Mel saw of Tucker as Dwight hauled her through the kitchen and shoved her out the back door. He slammed it behind them just as a shot rang out. Dwight pushed Mel toward a waiting motorcycle.
“Get on! Now!” he ordered.
Mel didn’t hesitate but jumped onto the bike at the same time Dwight did. He fired up the engine just as Tucker came running out of the back door. He was covered in blood but still brandishing his gun. Mel wrapped her arms around Dwight and closed her eyes, waiting for the bullets to rip into her flesh, but Dwight launched them out of the alley at top speed. If she hadn’t been holding on, she’d have fallen off the back. As it was they bounced over the curb and slid onto their side with only Dwight’s leg keeping them from dropping to the ground as he took the corner at a clip, rocketing them down another alley and out onto the street.
Dwight glanced back at her as they sped down the street, and shouted, “You okay?”
Mel nodded but he’d turned forward and couldn’t see her. She coughed and shouted, “Yeah, I’m okay.” Then, because she couldn’t believe she was saying those words, she promptly burst into tears and cried into his back while she held on.
The ride was short. Dwight parked his bike in front of the police precinct and helped Mel off. Then he grabbed her hand and ran inside, pulling her behind him.
Uniformed officer Octavia Flores was manning the front desk. She glanced up from her computer monitor and caught sight of Mel and her eyes went wide. She immediately grabbed the radio on her shoulder and said, “Detective Cooper, I need you up front. Now.”
Then she hopped off her stool and circled the desk, grabbing a tissue out of the box on her way. She was a tall, athletic black woman who looked like she could take down a suspect with a diving tackle and never break a sweat. She handed the tissue to Mel and put a protective arm around her. Mel dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose.
“You okay, hon?” she asked. She glanced up at Dwight, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What happened?”
“A murderer shot at us when I was saving her stupid ass,” he said.
That brought Mel up short. “Did you just call me stupid?”
“Did you let a murderer into your bakery?”
“No, I was trying to escape and he caught me,” she said. “I am not stupid. This was not my fault.”
“Psh,” he said.
“It wasn’t,” she said. “How did you get into my bakery anyway? The back door was locked.”
Dwight shrugged. “I have skills.”
“What were you even doing there?” she asked. “Not that I’m not grateful, but . . .”
“I was following that sycophantic little weasel,” he said. “Didn’t you think it was weird that he showed up at the bakery right when your uncle did? Clearly, he was following him to see—”
“If they identified his fingerprint on the lipstick,” Mel finished his sentence. “Wait. Did you just use the word sycophantic?”
“Yeah, are you implying I’m stupid?” he retorted.
They stared at each other. Mel was pretty sure they still hated each other but now there was a level of respect mixed in that was weird. Plus, the man had just saved her life.
“What’s going on?” Uncle Stan burst through the security door and looked from Mel to Dwight and back.
“Tucker Booth murdered Cassidy Havers-Griffin,” Mel said. “And he just tried to murder me, too. He wanted me to write a suicide note claiming I killed Cassidy and then he planned to make me drink the same poison he gave her. If Dwight hadn’t shown up when he did . . .”
Uncle Stan took in her windblown hair and tear-streaked face. Mel could only imagine what she looked like and he pulled her into a bear hug that crushed. Mel felt the tears roll out of her eyes again but she knew they didn’t have time for this. She hugged Uncle Stan back hard and then stepped back and said, “He’s still out there. We have to get him. He was wearing the same thing he had on earlier. Khaki pants and a button-down shirt.”
“He also has a huge gash on his forehead and should be covered in his own blood,” Dwight added. The smile on his face was more a show of teeth than mirth.
Uncle Stan studied him for a second and then reached out and shook his hand. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Dwight said.
“You have to hurry,” Mel said. “We left him at the bakery with the back door wide open. He has a gun. Who knows who he’ll go after next? He’s looking to pin this murder on someone.”
Uncle Stan nodded. “We’ve got this. Don’t you worry.” He spun around and began barking orders. Mel and Dwight stepped back to let the police do their thing. While they were leaning against the wall, she glanced at him.
“You didn’t have to save me,” she said. “You could have let him finish me off.”
“Is that what you think of me?” he asked. He looked outraged. “That I’d let you be murdered because I don’t like you?”
“Well, I’m not your favorite person,” she said. “You certainly didn’t have to put yourself in harm’s way to save me.”
“I can’t stand you,” he agreed. “But you do make a mean cupcake, and I hate him more.”
“So, you saved me for my cupcakes?” she asked.
“And I hate him more, don’t forget that part,” he said. “But, yeah, the cupcakes definitely weighed in your favor and you seem to have grown a spine since we were kids. I respect that.”
Mel started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. Probably, it was an emotional fallout from almost being murdered, but still she laughed until her stomach cramped and the tears she shed were from humor instead of fear. When she pulled it together, it was to find Dwight staring at her like she was deranged.
“What is your problem?” he asked. “Do I need to call someone for you?”
“‘The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem,’” she said.
“Are you quoting Pirates of the Caribbean at me?” Dwight asked. He sidled away and Mel grinned.
“You got the quote right! Dwight, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” she said.
“Oh, god.” He looked pained, which only made Mel laugh even harder. It might have been because she was just so damned grateful to be alive, but it also might have been the twinkle in his eye when he said it. Either way, she had a feeling Dwight Pickard was not going to be leaving her life anytime soon, and she was okay with that.
* * *
Mel and Dwight were led into an empty office, where they kicked back on the well-w
orn faux-leather chairs, waiting to hear what happened to Tucker. Some quick detective work at the airport verified that he’d never gotten on his plane and that he’d rented a car from one of the agencies near the airport. They had the make, model, and license plate of his car and an all-points bulletin had been put out on him.
When Joe arrived, he came straight at Mel with his arms wide. He hugged her close and kissed her quick once, twice, three times, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was okay. It made Mel feel like she was valued and precious and she loved him so much for that. His relief wrapped around her like a big, puffy coat and she could have stayed there all night.
Joe pulled back and looked at Dwight. He didn’t say anything but extended his hand and Dwight shook it. The two men sized each other up for a moment, but Joe being Joe, the chief mediator of his six brothers, knew exactly what to say.
“I heard you clipped him with a cupcake tin,” he said. He had a small smile on his lips when he added, “Quick thinking.”
Dwight studied him for a moment and nodded. “I would have preferred it was a tire iron or even a chair, but you use what you have at hand. Am I right?”
“You are,” Joe said. “You saved Mel’s life and for that I can’t thank you enough. I hear you’re a veteran.”
“Marine Corps,” Dwight said.
“I happen to know we have some job openings for quick thinkers who can handle themselves at the county prosecutor’s office,” he said. He reached into his pocket and took out his business card. “Call me if you’re interested. I’ll get you an interview.”
Dwight stared at the card for a long moment. Mel wanted to yell at him to take the card, but she knew the decision had to be his. Finally, he took the card and slipped it into his pocket. “Thanks.”
“You bet,” Joe said. He turned to Mel. “All right, tell me everything that happened.”
She recounted the story with some minor corrections from Dwight, including his insistence that they did not almost die while fleeing from Tucker on his motorcycle. When she finished, Joe’s face was set in hard lines.
“I’m going to go see what the status is on Booth,” he said.
“I’m coming, too,” Mel said.
“Me, too,” Dwight added.
Joe opened his mouth to protest but Mel shook her head and said, “We deserve to know.”
He nodded. Mel could see that it pained him but he let them both join him as he tracked Stan down to the detective’s office. It was chaos. Detective Tara Martinez, Stan’s partner, was on one phone while Stan was on the other. He saw Joe and Mel in the doorway and waved them in. He frowned at Dwight but he didn’t kick him out, for which Mel was grateful.
They pressed up against the wall, trying to stay out of the way. As soon as Stan ended his call, Joe pounced.
“What’s the status?” Joe asked.
“There was a sighting but Booth lost them in traffic,” Stan said.
“He tried to kill Mel!” Joe snapped. “He needs to be caught.”
“You don’t say. Huh, did you hear that, Detective Martinez? Booth needs to be caught,” Stan said. His sarcasm would have left a lesser man bleeding.
“I’m sorry,” Joe said. He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m a bit on edge.”
“Welcome to the party,” Stan said. His phone buzzed and he picked it up. “Cooper.”
There was a pause. “Where?” His eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers at Detective Martinez. When she glanced at him, he pointed at her repeatedly and her eyes went wide when he said, “Five minutes out.”
Tara began to bark orders into her phone while Stan said, “Stay on the line” to whomever he was talking to.
“What’s going on?” Mel demanded. She couldn’t take it anymore.
“Booth has been spotted five minutes away from Daniel Griffin’s house, where he and Megan are holed up with a SWAT team,” Stan said.
Mel glanced at Dwight. He looked as on edge as she did. Clearly, because Dwight had saved her, Tucker was redirecting his plan to harm Megan or Danny or both. He probably figured he had nothing to lose and this was his last grand gesture to the woman he had loved. Mel felt queasy. She didn’t want to be responsible for anything happening to them.
Dwight met her gaze and shook his head. “This is not on us. It’s on Tucker for being a deranged mental case.”
“I know,” she said.
“We have undercover officers on the scene,” Stan said. “They’ll be all right.”
The room was quiet except for Tara, talking low into her phone. Mel had the feeling she was communicating with the undercovers, giving them instructions, listening to what they were seeing. She could hear the round industrial clock on the wall ticking. It made her edgy.
Just when she thought she would jump out of her skin, the radio on the desk sounded off. Mel could hear yelling. There was a gunshot and a scream and then silence. Everyone stood completely still. Mel was certain they had collectively stopped breathing. Then an officer came on the air and said, “We got him.”
Mel reached for Joe’s hand. She was terrified that Tucker had shot Megan or Danny. She glanced at her uncle. He nodded and she heard him ask whomever he was speaking to on his phone if everyone was all right.
He nodded while he listened and Mel saw his posture relax. She took that as a good sign and squeezed Joe’s hand, hoping that her guess proved true. Stan ended his call at the same time Tara ended hers.
“They’re bringing him in,” Tara said. “I’m going to meet them.”
“Right behind you,” Stan said. Then he turned to Mel and said, “No one was harmed. The gunshot we heard was Booth but he missed the officer he was aiming for and shot Griffin’s garage instead.”
“Thank goodness,” Mel said. She sagged a bit, happy to have Joe to bolster her.
Stan looked at the three of them. “You are free to go. We have your statements and Booth has been arrested. You’re safe now.”
“Thanks,” Dwight said. He held out his hand and Uncle Stan shook it.
Mel stepped forward and gave her uncle a big hug. “Best detective ever.”
Uncle Stan’s ears turned red at the tips, and she knew she had embarrassed him. “Yeah, well, go home and stay out of trouble.” He thumped Joe on the back as he walked by him. “You’d better put a tracking device on her when you marry her. You’re going to need it.”
Mel glanced at Joe and he had one eyebrow up as if he was considering it. She shook her head. “No.”
He sighed. He looped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Come on, cupcake, let’s go raid the bakery. I need a Dreamsicle Cupcake in the worst possible way.”
They headed for the door and Mel noticed Dwight wasn’t moving. She turned back to him. “Well, come on. If anyone deserves a cupcake, it’s you.”
He stared at her for a second and then his lips tipped up in the corner. “All right,” he said. “But just one and this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
Mel met his gaze and said, “Don’t be stupid. Of course it does.”
Twenty
When they arrived at the bakery, everyone was there. Oz was cleaning while supervising Marty, Tate, and Angie. When they stepped through the back door, Angie grabbed Mel and hugged her hard.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she said. Then she promptly burst into tears.
“Me, either,” Tate said. He moved his wife aside so he could hug Mel, too.
“I can’t believe it was Tucker,” Angie said. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes to stop the tears. “I mean, he was here with us. He hung out with us. I thought he was one of us.”
“Well, he wasn’t,” Mel said. “He made that perfectly clear.”
“Why did he come after you?” Tate asked.
“Because he never meant to murder Cassid
y,” Mel said. “The poison that killed Cassidy was meant for Megan.”
“Then how—” Tate looked confused.
“Tucker didn’t know that Megan is pregnant so she isn’t drinking. She gave her beverage to Cassidy,” Dwight said. Mel looked at him and he shrugged. “I figured it out when I caught her and Dan in the garden at Cassidy’s funeral. They were in the garden kissing, and then I saw him put his hand on her belly in that way expectant fathers do.”
“Oh, you saw them, too?” she said. She studied him. “Weren’t you mad?”
“Not really,” he said. “They were meant to be together. Cassidy never should have kept them apart.”
Mel met his gaze. It went without saying that Cassidy should have been with him. Dwight had clearly brought out the best in her but Cassidy had never seen it. Mel reached out and squeezed his arm, letting him know she understood. When she turned back, Angie was glancing between them as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Why did Tucker come after you?” Angie asked.
“He was afraid that Uncle Stan was going to figure out that it was him who wrote on the bathroom wall with the lipstick he stole from Megan, because there was a partial print on the lipstick and Uncle Stan was gathering fingerprints of anyone who’d been near Cassidy that night. Tucker thought he could pin Cassidy’s murder on me if he made me write a confession, and then he planned to stage my suicide,” Mel said.
Mel felt a little queasy at how close he had come to pulling it off. Joe gave her a quick squeeze, and she wasn’t sure if he was reassuring her or himself that she was all right.
“That’s totally mental,” Oz said.
“Well, it would have worked if Dwight hadn’t been following Tucker,” Mel said. “He foiled the whole thing.”
Angie turned and stood in front of Dwight, looking like she wanted to take a piece out of him. Instead, she leapt up and hugged him hard. Her voice was choked when she said, “Thanks for saving my best friend.”
Dwight patted her back twice in what he obviously hoped was her quick-release button. It didn’t work. Angie started sobbing and Tate had to step forward and peel his wife off. She immediately turned into him to finish her cry.
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