Sugar and Vice: Cupcake Truck Mysteries

by Emily James

  My stomach grumbled again, louder this time.

  Dan kept his gaze on the road, which was almost more telling than if he’d looked over. “You mentioned earlier that Claire threatened not to pay you. Did she? Pay you, I mean.”

  Lying about it would be counterproductive. If he found out I’d lied about being paid, he would doubt everything else I’d said. “No, she didn’t.”

  He drew in a long breath. It made me think he was tired inside though he didn’t show it outside. “If you’re willing to tag along while I pick up Janie, I’ll swing by an ATM and get you what you’re owed.”

  My throat tightened up enough that I couldn’t speak so I nodded instead. Not all men were like Jarrod. Or like Claire’s husband.

  Some men in the world were still good like my dad. Like my dad and like Dan Holmes.

  Chapter 16

  Janie’s pre-school was a two-story red brick building attached to a library. The parking lot on the pre-school side only had five cars in it when we pulled up. The two still in parallel parking spots across the street suggested that the lot had once been full. It seemed like Dan had been reasonably worried about being late if we stopped by the bank first. Most people had already gone home.

  I didn’t know if Dan intended for me to wait for them in the car or come inside, but he shut the car off and took the keys. Which made sense. Even though we were working together now, he didn’t really know me. I wouldn’t have left my car running with a stranger inside either, just in case they decided they wanted to take it for a joy ride.

  I followed him from the car. The day had warmed up, and the sun wasn’t down yet. Waiting inside a car that wasn’t running meant sitting in a pool of sweat. Showers were hard to come by living in a food truck, and I’d discovered the hard way how messy taking a sponge bath in a tiny sink could be.

  Dan hit a buzzer. A woman answered, he gave her his name, and the door clicked, signaling she’d unlocked it.

  It’d been years since I was inside a pre-school, probably not since I was a kid, but it didn’t seem like much had changed. Murals of the alphabet and numbers one to ten covered the walls in bright colors. I peeked in the open doors as we walked by. The rooms didn’t have desks like an elementary school would. Instead, tiny chairs in red, yellow, and blue lined low tables.

  My baby would have only been a toddler now, but I’d been looking forward to teaching him or her colors and numbers and all the other things they’d need to know before they went to kindergarten.

  Dan entered a door on the left.

  I hung back and examined the pictures of the teacher and teacher’s assistant taped to the door with their names underneath. The kids wouldn’t need to find their room on their own, so the pictures and names were probably there to help forgetful parents.

  A woman holding the hand of a boy who skipped along beside her passed by and gave me a sidelong glance that clearly said what are you doing here without a child?

  Slipping into Janie’s classroom with Dan seemed better than standing in the hallway drawing attention to myself. Some parent might think I shouldn’t be here and call administration to have me evicted.

  I edged into the room. Janie sat on a chair near the corner, her head down and her little arms across her chest. I didn’t need a lot of experience with kids to know something wasn’t right.

  Dan stood on the other side of the desk talking to the teacher’s assistant. Her mouth was turned down at the corners. Dan’s expression was harder to read than Sanskrit. He seemed even better at hiding his emotions than I was.

  I turned my back to give them privacy. I’d only be a part of their lives briefly, and I wouldn’t have wanted a stranger overhearing my personal business even if I’d been living a normal life under my real name.

  A banner on the wall I now faced said Our Favorite Spring Things. Crayon drawings covered the wall under the banner, and on each, a grown-up had written a short description of the items in the drawings. Which was good because, in a lot of them, I wouldn’t have been able to tell if it was a bird or a flower if there hadn’t been a description below.

  I searched the wall until I found Janie’s. She’d drawn a yellow flower—either that or the sun—a beige rectangle inside a red rectangle, and a tree with a swing. The words next to it said her favorite things about spring were being able to use the swing in her backyard, daffodils, and great-grandpa’s birthday party barbeque. I wasn’t quite sure what a red rectangle had to do with Harold’s birthday party, but she must have explained it to whoever labeled the picture. It was probably a hot dog, and she got the colors reversed.

  I turned away from the wall. If she had the same project to do next year, she wouldn’t be able to choose her great-grandpa’s birthday. My chest hurt thinking about how excited she must have been driving there that day compared to how she must feel now. Whoever killed Harold took what had once been something a little girl looked forward to and broke it.

  Dan and Janie headed in my direction. Janie looked at me, stopped, and then sprinted for me. I dropped to one knee, opened my arms, and caught her. She held on so tight it hurt, her body shaking as she cried.

  My brain flashed a does not compute sign. It could be a reaction to me saving her life. Maybe seeing me again triggered that sense of fear and then relief that she didn’t know how to put into words. Or it could be that whatever had upset her at school that merited such a serious conversation made her feel threatened in some way. I’d saved her once so now she felt like I was a safe haven?

  The reason didn’t matter. Not to me. I hadn’t been able to protect my baby. Jarrod made sure to tell me that it was my fault our baby died. That I’d made him hit me. He’d been right and he’d been wrong. I hadn’t made him hit me, but I should have left before he could. I should have left the moment I found out I was pregnant. I should have protected my baby.

  Maybe saving Janie made up a little for what I’d done—or rather, hadn’t done.

  “Sorry,” Dan whispered. “It’s been a rough day. We’re going to have to have a talk about lying and about lying about lying.”

  Janie said something against my shoulder that sounded like I didn’t lie, but I couldn’t be sure.

  A part of me wanted to stick up for her—to make sure that she wasn’t being falsely accused. Apparently, I had maternal instincts even though I hadn’t mothered a child.

  The larger part of me recognized that instincts didn’t make me Janie’s mother. Dan was her parent, and he had the right to parent her in the way he saw fit. I clamped my lips shut and held her while she cried it out.

  When she let go of me, Dan placed a hand on her back and shepherded her out the door. She stomped ahead of him, her bottom lip still sticking out a bit. She dropped back behind Dan and in front of me as we exited the school.

  Dan stopped and patted the pocket of his jeans. “I set my keys down on the desk, and I left them there. Wait with the car. I’ll be right back.”

  He returned to the school door and pressed the button again. Janie continued her stomp-walk past the passenger side of Dan’s car. Her car seat must be on the driver’s side.

  I started to sit down on the curb, but stopped halfway and stood up again. Janie hadn’t gone around to the other side of the car. She’d continued on toward the road.

  She looked both ways, then stepped out into the street.

  My heart beat kicked up, feeling like it was beating in my throat rather than in my chest. All I could think was that Dan must normally park across the street when he picked her up, and she was obeying his command to wait with the car. There was a black car that looked almost identical to his in one of the parallel parking spots across the street.

  Thankfully she’d carefully looked both ways so she shouldn’t be in danger of any cars, but I still needed to catch her. She was already in the middle of the street. I didn’t want her coming back alone.

  I strode after her.

  A car wheeled out from the library side of the parking lot, accelerating as
if it didn’t see her.

  I yelled her name. She stopped and looked back at me, which only made it worse. She was standing directly in the path of the car.

  Chapter 17

  The driver had to be on their phone not to notice her.

  I ran for her. I should have watched her better. I was the grown-up. Dan left her with me, trusted her with me for a few minutes.

  The car kept coming. I sprinted the last few steps, grabbed her up, and leaped, trying to twist in the air so I didn’t fall on top of her.

  My shoulder slammed into the ground, and my head bumped the cement. Pain seared through my upper body, making me feel like I was on fire.

  For a second there was an avalanche of sound—tires squealing, Janie crying, a man’s voice calling our names.

  It had to be Dan’s voice calling our names.

  The pain felt like it was crushing me, but I knew pain. If Fear and I were frenemies, then Pain and I were arch-rivals. I concentrated on my breathing and turned my mind away, imagining that I was building a wall brick by brick that pain couldn’t get through.

  I rolled into a sitting position, bringing Janie with me.

  Dan dropped to his knees by our side. He reached for Janie, and she crawled into his arms. “Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere?”

  She shook her head against his chest. “I looked both ways, I promise.”

  “I think she thought this was your car.” The words were hard to find. I patted the tire of the car behind me. “The car seemed like it didn’t see her.”

  The driver could have stopped to see if we were alright afterward, but they were probably afraid they’d be charged with something by the police if they did. That’s what I would have been afraid of. Since they hadn’t actually hit us, there’d be no damage to their car, and they’d be almost impossible to find if they sped off instead. That’d be a tempting option for a lot of people, especially if the driver was on their phone the way I suspected.

  “Did you get the license plate?” Dan asked.

  I shook my head, but the motion sent Pain breaking through my mental brick wall. My vision tilted like someone had put the world in a snow globe and was shaking it.

  Dan held Janie close with one arm and fished around in his pocket with his other. “I’m calling 911. We need to make a report and have you checked out at a hospital.”

  “I’m fine.” Now who was the liar. “I don’t need a hospital.” And I certainly didn’t want the police taking down my name in a report. “I’d rather just go back to my truck.”

  “You’re not fine. You’re bleeding.” He touched the back of his own head.

  I put a hand to my scalp where I’d hit the cement. The touch of my fingers stung, and my palm came away red. “Head wounds always bleed a lot. I just need to put some pressure on it.”

  Dan gave me a look like I’d grown a third eye and a tentacle.

  You said too much, Fear said. Pain is making you weak.

  It was probably a sign of how lonely I’d been—how lonely I was—that I personified my emotions.

  “If it’s about the money,” Dan said, “you don’t have to worry. I’ll cover your medical bill.”

  Arg. I hadn’t even thought about the bill I wouldn’t be able to pay if I needed medical attention. That added yet another reason not to go, even though Dan said he’d pay for it.

  I struggled to my feet. “I’ve survived worse. I promise. Get Janie checked out, but I’ll be okay. I’ll wait in the car.”

  Dan got up as well, holding on to Janie’s hand.

  I took a step forward, and the ground moved again. Dan darted forward and wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me up.

  His arm felt warm and strong and, for a second, I just wanted to lean on him and let someone else carry the burden—of everything.

  “I’ll help you to the car and check you over, but then I’m calling 911.”

  We crossed the street, his arm around my waist and Janie clamped onto his other hand. He helped me into the passenger seat and gently probed my shoulder. The pain in my shoulder had already eased significantly. He had me follow his finger with my eyes, and then even pulled a flashlight out of the glovebox and checked my pupils.

  I blinked against the light. “Do you actually know what you’re doing with that thing?”

  He smiled, but continued his exam. “I was almost a licensed paramedic before I realized that wasn’t the career for me.”

  That explained why Claire called for Dan when Harold collapsed.

  He put the flashlight away and pulled a wad of paper napkins from the same glovebox. He handed them to me. “I still think a doctor should see you.”

  I shook my head. The world stayed in place this time, and I pressed the napkins to my scalp. “I’m feeling a bit better already.”

  He took his phone back out of his pocket.

  I held up a hand. My stomach felt like it was trying to fold into an origami animal. I knew what he’d think when I asked, but I had to ask. “Please don’t tell them it was me who saved Janie. You could say a woman and that she left afterward. I did leave afterward. It’s not a lie. The only useful thing I can say is the car was a light color. I didn’t see if the driver was a man, woman, or yeti.”

  The look Dan gave me made me feel like he was trying to listen in on whatever was going on in my brain.

  He didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he led Janie back to the side of the road and they sat on the curb. Within minutes, a police car and an ambulance pulled up. The paramedics looked Janie over while Dan talked to the officers. I watched it all in the rearview mirror. Thankfully, he never motioned toward the car.

  I lost track of how much time passed before the ambulance and police cruiser left. Dan buckled Janie into her car seat, and she drifted off almost immediately.

  “Is she okay?” I asked.

  “Clean bill of health.” Dan eased his car out of the empty parking lot. He glanced in my direction. “I’m going to give you a choice. I can either take you to the hospital to be looked over or you can come to our house for the night.”

  For the briefest second, I thought he was threatening to expose me unless I slept with him.

  “You might have a mild concussion,” he said, “which means someone needs to check on you regularly.”

  I’d been injured in the process of saving his daughter. In his mind, that must have created a debt he now needed to somehow repay.

  Thankfully I hadn’t voiced my original thought.

  “I’d feel responsible if I let you go home alone and something happened to you,” he continued.

  Right. He didn’t realize I lived in my truck. He’d definitely insist on me staying with them if he knew that.

  The lure of a hot shower and a soft bed for my achy body was more than I could stand. Staying with them also ensured one sound night of sleep. Jarrod would have no way to find me since Dan and I were practically strangers.

  We pulled up at a stop sign.

  He pointed right. “My house. You can sleep in Janie’s bed. She’ll want to stay in my room tonight anyway with everything that’s happened.” He pointed left. “Or the hospital.”

  “Go right.”

  Chapter 18

  Dan asked if we needed to swing by my place to pick up clean clothes first. “My place” was parked over by where Vinny’s food truck had been, and I couldn’t let him know I slept in my cupcake truck. That was probably a health code violation.

  I told him I lived on the far side of town, and it’d take us too far out of the way.

  Dan and Janie lived in an older subdivision on a street filled with oak and maple trees. Swaying patches of light and shadow covered the whole street. I hadn’t been to this part of town before. It was all residential except for the playground within walking distance of their house.

  I didn’t know the people here, but I felt like I did. I’d grown up in a similar neighborhood except we had palm trees. There’d be swing sets in a few of the backyards, pools in ot
hers. In the summer, kids would ride their bikes around the cul de sac at the end, and their parents would feel safe letting them do so. Most evenings, you’d smell someone grilling steaks or hamburgers in their backyard.

  Dan showed me Janie’s room, and then gathered up a towel, a fresh bar of soap, and a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants for me. Given the size, they were his. I’d have to roll up the hems of the pants to keep from tripping on them, but at least I wouldn’t have to sleep in my dirty clothes.

  As I cleaned up, I couldn’t help but think about the differences between men and women. As a man, Dan felt safe inviting a near stranger into his home. He’d smartly orchestrated a way to keep Janie with him at night just in case, but he wasn’t afraid of me. Had the roles been reversed, I wouldn’t have felt safe inviting a man I barely knew into my home. I didn’t know any woman who would.

  When I came back downstairs, Janie was playing with model horses in front of the living room couch. Clanging noises from the kitchen suggested Dan was making supper.

  I should probably have offered to help, but the couch called too loudly to my bruised body.

  Janie ran a horse across the top of the coffee table. “Daddy’s making food and phone calls.”

  One would hopefully be to whoever he had a connection with in the police department. The sooner the police started to look into Claire’s soon-to-be ex-husband, the better.

  She abandoned the horse on the table and scooted to the edge of the couch. “Will you read me a story?”

  “Sure.”

  I might as well enjoy some of the fun parts of having a child around while I could. My dad reading to me was one of my happiest memories. Not only had he read to me, but once I reached high school, we kept going either taking turns reading chapters or reading the same books and talking about them. When I left Jarrod, I’d also had to leave behind my collection of books. He’d probably burned them all by now out of spite.