“Now you sound like Percival. Am I supposed to be worried about wrinkles at a time like this? Next you’ll be telling me that I’m using the wrong shade of eyeliner.” The only way she’d do that was if the concussion changed her personality.
She grimaced. “Yeah, right. I’m not so much worried about wrinkles as you having an aneurysm from the stress. Though mine is minor, I’d rather we take turns having brain injuries.”
“You’ve got a point there.” I left my spot at the counter and joined Katie at the table, and I contented myself with a cup of coffee as opposed to taking my frustrations out on sourdough.
“Besides, this whole thing is almost over.” She smiled and genuinely seemed unconcerned. “Branson is on the case. You said he’s already talked to the grandparents. They’re cooperating. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Yes. That’s true. But it’s not over until it’s over. And you’re not fully safe until it is.” At that thought, I checked my cell. No new messages. Though it wasn’t like I would’ve missed the notification if there had been.
“Again, you’ve got to breathe. You keep checking that thing every three minutes. They’re police, not miracle workers. They’ll find Spencer.” A flash of pain darted across her face. I knew that no matter what Spencer was doing, even though he had attempted to kill her, Katie was blaming herself. “I can’t imagine what Bob and Sally are experiencing right now. First having their daughter go through what she did only to have her kill herself, and now this with one of their grandsons. I honestly can’t believe they’re cooperating with the police at all.”
“I can’t either. Branson said both of them were pretty emotional.” When he called to fill me in, he hadn’t been quite as understanding of them as Katie felt. “Though he couldn’t get them to admit it, he thinks they suspected it was Spencer when they heard about Sammy. They just didn’t want to believe it.”
“Who could blame them?” Katie continued her assault on the dough.
I agreed with Branson; I could blame them. But I kept that thought to myself.
“It just seems like such a horrible coincidence.” She looked over at me, dark circles under her brown eyes. “To think that Amy’s parents and I ended up in the same town. I’m pretty sure they’ve even been into the bakery. I’ve served them. You really think it’s possible they didn’t realize who I was?”
That was what they’d claimed to Branson, that they hadn’t known who Katie was, not until their grandson came to visit. “I don’t know. Maybe. In their defense, the last time they would’ve seen a picture of you was when you were a little girl. It’s not like they would’ve been on the lookout for you to show up. I can’t imagine they would ever expect you to own a little bakery in a town like this, so many miles away from where it all happened.”
Watson growled quietly from his place under my chair. Even a day later and he was still mimicking my shadow.
I reached down and scratched his head absentmindedly. “It’s okay, boy. It’s just the police checking in on us. Again.”
He continued to growl, then stood and walked out of the kitchen.
“He’s so shaken. Still.” I sighed, relief and worry cutting through me. “I’m glad he’s okay physically, but I hope this hasn’t traumatized him permanently. Goodness knows, he had enough of an attitude with people to begin with.”
As if to prove my point, his growling grew more insistent from the other room.
“I could give him a ball of bread dough. Maybe if we can convince him not to eat it, we can teach him to knead it with his cute little paws. He could become the corgi baker and would be an instant hit on YouTube.” Katie chuckled. “I do wish I could offer him that. It really is so soothing. Baking, not being on YouTube.” She grew serious once more. “That’s how Grandma and I got through all those hard years. We baked. She’s the one who taught me. When I was scared, when I was sad, when I was angry, it didn’t matter. We just baked. Baked and baked and baked. Until the tears dried, until I felt safe, until nothing else mattered except Grandma and what we’d create next.”
My eyes burned. Katie had been so closed off about her past. It all made sense now, of course, but hearing the longing in her voice as she talked about her grandmother, the ache over what she’d lost, I felt even closer to her. And so fortunate that even though I’d lost my father and missed him every day, he hadn’t been my only family. Katie had lost everyone.
Despite myself, I felt a flash of annoyance with Watson’s growling in the background interrupting what was such a personal and rare moment for Katie.
Looking over, I leaned forward so I could peer into the living room through the kitchen door just as Watson’s growls became frantic barks, and the front door burst open.
I stood up so fast that I bashed against the corner of the table and caused the edge of it to collide with Katie’s elevated foot sticking up the other side. She let out a sharp yell, and I managed to steady myself on the table just as two people rushed through the front door. I started toward them, but one of the figures swung a gun in my direction, bringing me to a halt.
“Any further and I’ll shoot you.” The man kept the gun trained at my head and motioned to the woman with him. “Shut the door.”
She did and twisted the deadbolt.
Despite the clarity of the scene in front of me, I couldn’t get my brain to accept it. I’d locked the door, I had a very clear memory of it. And yet two people were in my house, one with a gun. Even so, reality cared little what I could or couldn’t accept. And I recognized the man. Spencer Stone. Of course.
He aimed the gun at Watson, who was barking viciously at his feet, and then back to me. “Shut that thing up or I’ll start with him.”
I didn’t hesitate, sinking to my knees and patting my thighs. “Watson, come here. Come here, boy.”
Still barking, he glanced my way and then back at the couple, clearly torn.
I slapped my thighs harder and made my command more insistent, angrier as if he was in trouble. “I said, come here!”
He quit barking but continued a solid growl as he slowly stalked my way, each step seeming to cost him.
“Stay where you are, Michelle.” The woman spoke, but Spencer raised the gun higher, aiming over my head. “Although I’m going to shoot you either way, so go ahead, give it a try.”
For a crazy second, I wondered who she was talking to. Then remembered that Michelle and Katie were one and the same. I glanced behind me to see Katie sinking back into the chair, fear and pain etched across her face, her broken foot no longer elevated on the chair.
The woman walked up and put a hand on Spencer’s arm. “Let’s finish this. You’re being ridiculous.”
He spared her a quick glance, and when he looked back, I saw irritation in his eyes. And fear. Maybe. “We’ve killed the wrong person once. I’m not making that mistake again.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” Annoyance dripped from every word the woman spoke. “You think there’s another look-alike? How many times can you mess this up?”
At the heat in her voice, Watson barked again, and I pulled him close. “Hush.” I tried to pull him behind me, but he resisted. He didn’t bark, but his growl wouldn’t die away.
The couple walked toward us, and Spencer aimed his gun at me again. “Stay where you are. Don’t get up. You’re not the one we’re after.”
Like they were going to kill Katie and walk away, leaving me breathing.
The woman cast a glance in his direction that said she thought his claim was as ridiculous as I did. “I thought you were stronger than this.”
“Shut up. You’re the one who keeps moving everything too fast. Just shut up.”
“Really?” She scoffed. “If you hadn’t hesitated the other night, you could’ve shot Michelle by the river, and this would all be over now.” She reached for the gun, but he held it out of her grasp.
“I said shut up, Robin.”
Katie gasped. “Robin?”
Both of them froze and loo
ked in her direction.
“Robin Cooper?”
At the sound of her voice, I dared to glance her way. Whatever fear had been there before had drained away, leaving Katie pale and shaken.
The woman tilted her head and almost looked impressed. “You know my name.”
“Of course I do.” Katie’s voice trembled. She sounded close to tears.
Robin smiled at Spencer. “You know what, you’re right. We’ve got time. Let’s take it.” She crossed the kitchen and sat down in the chair opposite Katie, the one Katie’s foot had rested on. Robin placed both her elbows on the tabletop and leaned forward like she was in an everyday conversation. “Is that what you did, Michelle? Go over all the details of what your mom and dad did every night before you went to bed? Memorized all of us? Maybe planned on finishing what your evil parents started?”
“No.” Katie sounded horrified, almost offended. “Yes, I know all of your names. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you.” Katie looked over at Spencer. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. I didn’t know.”
Spencer’s eyes widened, but Robin nearly hissed. “You’re sorry? Are you kidding me? Sorry? What good is that supposed to do?”
I was so caught up with what was happening, and my own fear and confusion, that I suddenly realized I’d been frozen. I glanced around my kitchen, trying to figure out what to do. The block of kitchen knives was halfway across the room. Useless. Nothing was in arms reach. Nothing but Watson. And even if there had been something else, from my crouched position, there was no smooth move I could make without drawing attention and a bullet.
“No, it’s not supposed to do any good. It doesn’t do any good.” The tears had left Katie’s voice, and to my horror, I heard something worse. Something so much worse. Resignation. Almost a sound of acceptance. Like she had this coming. “I know it doesn’t change anything. But I know who you both are. I wish I could change things.”
“That’s so sweet.” Robin scoffed again and looked over her shoulder at Spencer. “Good enough for you? What more confirmation do you need?”
“Do you think this has been easy for Katie?” The words were out before I could consider them. Robin and Spencer both looked at me.
Disgust filled Robin’s face. “Seriously? You’re going to try that? Make me feel sorry for the offspring of the demons who killed my parents? The one who made it possible for Spencer to lose his?”
“Not exactly.” I still had no idea what I was doing, but it was the only thing I had. With nothing in reach, words and distraction were all I was left with. “But she’s a victim, too. She lost her parents. Lost everything. It’s tormented her ever since. She was only ten years old. Just a kid.”
“I was seven.” Robin pounded the table. “Her parents killed mine when I was seven. Don’t tell me about torment. Trust me, I’ll win that competition every time. Her parents were monsters. She’s a monster.”
“And what are you?”
Robin’s expression was harder than Spencer’s, colder. And her eyes held the gleam of hatred that accompanied someone on the edge of sanity. Despite holding the gun, Spencer didn’t have that look.
Even as I spoke, I wasn’t sure if I was making the right decision, but my gut told me to push, to see if I could get some reaction that would give me an opening. “The two of you killed Sammy. She was innocent. She hadn’t done anything. Now her life is over. Her family have lost her, and they’ll have to live with that, just like you.”
“We didn’t know. We thought—”
“Spencer, shut up.” Robin swiped at him and stood.
I copied her movement and rose from a kneeling position.
Spencer thrust the gun in my direction. “Stop it.” This time both his voice and the weapon trembled.
I didn’t move, but I didn’t sink back down. Not sure whether I was making things better or worse, I kept pushing. If I kept going, buying time, the police would come by again and maybe see that something was wrong. Although, it already felt like it was past time for that. “Doesn’t it take a monster to plan this? To come into our shop, buy books, make conversation, all the while you’re plotting to murder someone? How long have you two been planning on murder?”
Instead of looking offended, Robin laughed. “That’s where you’re wrong. We didn’t plan any of this. We came up to visit Spencer’s grandparents. We saw a cute little bookshop and bakery with an adorable little corgi on the sign.” She cast the sneer down at Watson. “It was the shock of our lives to have the woman who cleared the names of the monsters who killed my parents, who made it possible for those same monsters to kill Spencer’s, serve us pastries. Can you imagine how that felt? Seeing that face after all these years?” She shook her head. “No, not planning. Providence. God. Fate. Whatever you want to call it. We didn’t go looking. Justice fell right in our lap.”
Despite myself, I paused at her story, finding it hard to believe. Although a cruel twist of fate shouldn’t be shocking, it seemed too much. “And you two just happened to be together at the time?”
“A lot of the victims of the Mercy Killers talk.” Spencer’s voice still shook. As Robin got more emphatic, he seemed to get weaker. Maybe that was the key. “No one else can really understand what you’ve gone through, not unless they’ve been through it themselves. All we had was each other. Robin and I met there, when we were older. It brought us together, and—”
“What are you doing?” Robin turned to face him. “They don’t need to know about us. Don’t deserve it.” She started to take a step toward him, her hand outstretched for the gun.
Katie let out a scream, a mix of fury and pain, and in one quick and terrible motion, stood and managed to shove from under her side of the table, causing it to overturn and bash into Robin’s back.
Watson’s barks went crazed once more.
At the impact, Robin fell forward, past Spencer, and crashed against the counter.
Spencer jumped in surprise, and the gun went off.
I charged, barreling into him, and the two of us fell into the counter as well, Spencer’s weight catching the force of the fall. Even so, the pressure on my ribs shot agony through me and stole my breath.
There was a clatter across the kitchen, and I looked over to see the gun spinning across the floor, through the doorway, and into the living room.
Robin recovered more quickly and started to push off from the floor, but Katie swung the metal bowl of bread dough against her face with a crack.
Pushing the pain aside I shoved Spencer off, managed to stand, and attempted to head toward the gun. But Spencer’s hand shot out, grasped my ankle, and I fell in another burst of agony. Even so, I attempted to kick, but he held on.
With frenzied barking, Watson barreled into Spencer’s face, hard enough that the back of Spencer’s head hit against the counter’s doors and his grip loosened.
I managed to jerk free and scrambled across the kitchen and into the living room. The gun was just inside the doorway. I grabbed it, stood, and swung it back toward the kitchen. “Don’t move!”
Spencer was still on the ground, trying to shove Watson off, but Robin had kicked Katie in her broken leg, causing her to crash to the floor. Robin’s hate-filled eyes met mine, and she began to stand.
I shot over her head, my kitchen window shattering. “I said don’t move!”
She didn’t.
Lowering the gun, I trained it on her and called out to Watson, once again making my voice harsh. “Watson, enough. Come here.” The last thing I wanted was him getting hit.
It looked like it cost him, but he did as I asked, slinking back to me like he was in trouble. At the same time, Katie pulled herself across the kitchen floor, backing out of Robin’s reach.
“You okay?”
Katie managed a chuckle, but her voice was shaky. “I’m betting I’ll have to wear that cast more than six weeks now, but yeah, all good.”
I didn’t take my gaze off Robin or Spencer. “Good. Thi
nk you can get to the phone and call the cavalry? Though I’m not sure why they’re not here by now.”
“Already on it.” She managed to spot my phone among the scattered contents from the table, swiped it up, and made a sound like she was blowing something off the phone. It was probably covered in flour. A second later, her voice no longer quavered. “Hey, Branson, we could use your help at Fred’s. You’ll want to bring two pairs of handcuffs.”
“I can’t believe you had enough material to make more curtains.” I managed to smile at Mom while Barry stood balanced with his feet on either side of the sink, as he threaded the new curtains onto the wooden rod.
“Oh, goodness.” Mom waved me off with one hand as she stroked Watson’s head with the other. She had scooted her chair next to mine; neither she nor Watson seemed able to get close enough. “I ordered a ton. I promised Barry I’d make a suit out of the material. It was going to be a Christmas present, but I just haven’t found the time. I’ve been more inspired by making jewelry lately.”
I managed to hold back a shudder. “You’re kidding?” I looked over at Barry. “I thought you were morally against suits.”
“Oh, I am.” Barry twisted as he looked back at me, proving that the yoga pants he wore weren’t just for show, and pulled a length of the tie-dyed material covered in pink flamingos over his chest. “But a suit made of this? We all have our price, Fred. I’m afraid this pattern is mine.”
What an image that made.
Mom patted my knee. “He found a tie with a walrus playing the saxophone. It looks very handsome on him.”
Barry had turned back to adjusting the curtain. “Honey, you only saw it when that was all I was wearing. Granted, it’ll look wonderful with the suit when you make it, but not that good.”
Mom shrugged, like she couldn’t argue.
And here I’d been worried about never being able to enjoy my kitchen again after nearly being killed in it. It turned out that was almost a fond memory compared to the mental scarring. “Don’t you think it’s a bad omen? The bullet passed right through the head of one of the flamingos.”
Savage Sourdough (Cozy Corgi Mysteries Book 4) Page 16