The cloudy day made her want to bake, and she still had a couple of hours before she was due in at the store. Besides, working in Aunt Liz’s kitchen would hopefully make her feel closer to the missing woman and take her thoughts away from the handsome lawman who somehow evoked memories of long-lost dreams.
As she entered the house where she’d grown up, the absence of the scent of cooking, the silence of nobody at home, created a bittersweet sadness in her heart.
What had happened to her aunt? How could somebody just disappear with no clues left behind as to what had happened? Aunt Liz had been the kindest woman in the world and Marlene couldn’t imagine her having any enemies.
She was the kind of person who was the first at the scene of a tragedy, offering sympathy or a casserole. She worked with most of the charities in town, volunteering time and money to help people in unfortunate circumstances.
Marlene donned an apron and began to put together the ingredients to make a batch of cinnamon streusel bites and gooey lemon bars. She couldn’t think about Aunt Liz’s disappearance, otherwise she’d plunge into a depth of depression.
She began measuring ingredients and felt the ghost of her aunt standing next to her, looking benevolently over her shoulder. That was the way it had been when Marlene and Liz had baked together. Aunt Liz would supervise and teach while a young Marlene learned the tricks to eventually become a great pastry chef and baker.
Her marriage had changed her dreams for herself, and by the time she’d gotten out of the marriage, any dreams she’d ever had for herself were dead.
She was thirty years old and knew her future held nothing but loneliness and grief, but wasn’t that what she deserved? Wasn’t that her punishment for bad judgment and indecision? She shoved these troubling thoughts aside and before long was lost in the simple pleasure of her work.
The kitchen filled with the heavenly scents of cinnamon and lemon and sweetened dough, and as she breathed in the smells, flashes of her childhood came rushing back to her.
Liz Marcoli had been widowed at the young age of thirty-two, and it was soon after that when her much-younger sister, Ramona, dropped off seven-year-old Roxy like an unwanted dog she’d found wandering the streets. Marlene and Sheri had followed, and Liz had stepped into the role of mother with an abundance of love and support.
The girls’ mother had never visited. As far as Marlene knew, Liz had never heard from her sister again after she’d dropped off Sheri. Marlene knew the police had been attempting to find Ramona’s whereabouts in the hopes that Liz might be with her, but in the depths of her heart Marlene believed her aunt was dead. Most days she assumed Ramona was probably dead, too.
By the time the goodies were baked and loaded in plastic carry containers, the skies had not only darkened, but it had begun to rain.
Her windshield wipers worked full force as she backed out of her aunt’s driveway and headed toward the store. If the rain kept up all day, then business would be dismal.
Vengeance is mine.
The words from the note jumped into her head, and despite her confusion over what it meant, a chill slowly walked up her spine.
It had been a year since her divorce. Surely Matt wouldn’t be playing terror games with her after all this time. They’d reached an agreement in the divorce that had benefited both of them. There was no reason for him to contact her now in any way, for any reason.
If not Matt, then who had left the note? And what did it mean? She hoped Frank would find the answer and before the day was over, this mystery would be solved.
She wasn’t surprised when she turned into the store to see the front parking lot empty. The skies wept down a steady patter of rain that would probably keep even the local shoppers away.
She parked in back, grabbed her purse and the containers of goodies, and then raced for the back door. She entered the storeroom and fought the impulse to shake like a dog to rid herself of the rainwater that clung to her hair and shoulders.
The storeroom was empty, which meant Sheri had probably already sent Jennifer and Abe home. While the store was functioning in the black, it wasn’t financially stable enough to keep paid help around when not needed.
She walked into the main store area and saw her sister seated behind the counter. “You know those are probably going to waste on a day like this,” Sheri said as Marlene placed the containers on the countertop.
“You can always take some home with you, and whatever is left at the end of the day I’ll give to Minnie,” Marlene replied. “That woman has a sweet tooth the size of New York.”
Sheri nodded absently, stood and stared at the window, where the rain had picked up in intensity. “Aunt Liz used to always say that rain was God’s gift to her g-g-garden.” Sheri’s lower lip trembled. “Today I f-feel like the rain is G-God’s tears for her.”
“Sheri.” Marlene hurried around the counter and placed an arm around her much shorter, petite sister. She hated to hear Sheri stutter, knew that she only did so when she was in tremendous emotional turmoil.
Tears began to slide down Sheri’s face and she shook her head as if to will them away. “S-sorry, the rain just m-made me sad. I miss her s-so much.”
Marlene pulled her sister into a full hug. Sheri had never known anyone else as her mother except Liz. She’d been only a couple weeks old when Ramona had left her with Liz.
“Frank told me that they’ve started searching the mountain cabins. Maybe Aunt Liz is trying to civilize some Neanderthal mountain man. You know what a stickler she is for manners and nice behavior.”
Sheri released a tearful laugh and stepped out of Marlene’s embrace. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve b-been emotional since the rain s-started.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Why don’t you head on home?” Marlene suggested. She knew if Sheri found any peace at all it would be in her cottage in the woods, snuggled up with Highway, the abandoned dog she’d found a year ago by the side of the road. She’d nurtured the frightened mutt puppy with both love and discipline and transformed him from a filthy little beast into a loving and protective companion.
“I hate to leave you here all alone for the whole day,” Sheri protested.
“Nonsense. I’m a big girl, and besides, I doubt if we see any traffic as long as this rain is coming down. Go on home, Sheri. You aren’t having a good day and you’ll feel better at your own place.”
“Okay, but if this weather doesn’t change later this afternoon, feel free to close up by five.” Sheri grabbed her oversize purse from beneath the counter. She gave Marlene a forced smile. “I’ll be better tomorrow, when the sun is shining again.”
“I know you will. Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be fine,” Marlene assured her.
Minutes later Marlene sat at the counter as the rain continued to patter against the windows. In front of her was a sheet of paper where she intended to do what Frank had asked of her, make a list of people who might have a problem with her or people who she worked with through the store.
She hadn’t renewed any old friendships after returning to Wolf Creek a year ago. She hadn’t wanted to get close enough to anyone who might ask personal questions about her marriage and divorce. She hadn’t even shared the details of what she’d been through with her sisters or her aunt. She’d simply told them all the marriage hadn’t worked and she and Matt had agreed it was best that they divorce and go their separate ways.
She used the tip of a pencil to doodle across the top of the page, knowing there was nobody personally here in town who would have any real issues with her. Oh, people might think her cold, and a stuck-up diva who didn’t go out of her way to be warm or inviting, but she’d never had any outward unpleasantness from anyone.
Staring down at the blank piece of paper, she thought about what Sheri had said about closing shop around five. She knew she w
ouldn’t do that. She’d remain open until seven because she had a feeling that was around the time Frank would show up to check in with her.
She wasn’t sure why she found comfort in the thought. She didn’t want to like Frank Delaney and yet there was no denying she was drawn to him.
The last thing she wanted was a man in her life in any meaningful role, but there were times she wouldn’t mind some companionship, times when she wouldn’t mind being wrapped in big strong arms and held like a priceless treasure.
She frowned and stared down at the paper, schooling her thoughts on the matter at hand. Was it possible she’d somehow offended somebody who did business with the shop? Many of those people were from the nearby Amish settlement, and while the note left at her door certainly had Biblical overtones, she couldn’t imagine one of the good, humble, hardworking people threatening her or anyone else.
Still, she wrote the names of everyone who did business with the shop. What made the most sense was that Michael had left the note as one final flip of his middle finger in her direction.
She finished writing all of the names she could think of and then spent the next couple of hours straightening shelves and making room for some of the new Wolf Creek souvenirs that had come in the day before.
Outside, the rain had finally ended but the skies remained dark, giving the illusion of nightfall despite the early hour. Around six o’clock Marlene made a fresh pot of coffee and helped herself to a lemon bar and a couple of the cinnamon streusel bites.
At six-thirty she realized the clouds had parted and shafts of early-evening sunshine fell from the skies. She felt a lifting of her spirits and she wasn’t sure if it was because the rain had passed or because she expected Frank to show up anytime.
Anticipation. It had been a very long time since she’d allowed herself to feel anything. Even when Aunt Liz had gone missing, the numbness that had encased her after her divorce had stolen any real depth of emotion from her.
Now it worried her just a bit that it was an eagerness to see Frank again that had pierced through the veil of numbness that had served her so well up to this point in her life.
She told herself it was just because he might bring answers to the mystery of the note and nothing more. It had nothing to do with the way his hands had warmed her from head to toe, or that his eyes held both a sweet caring and a hot male’s interest when they lingered on her.
He shouldn’t make her wary. He’d already told her that, like her, he wasn’t interested in any kind of long-term relationships, so at least they had that in common.
He must have loved his wife very much. Marlene wondered what terrible disease had stolen her from him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have dinner with him, to see a movie or spend a little companionable time together.
She instantly shoved these thoughts away as she saw his familiar car pull into the parking lot and then disappear around to the back of the building. Apparently he intended to come in through the back door.
She hurried into the storeroom and opened the door as he got out of his car. As always, a little shift in her heart occurred at his tall handsomeness.
The premature silver strands at his temples didn’t make him appear older; they merely gave him an aura of experience that complemented his rugged features. She found herself wondering what those silver strands would feel like beneath her fingertips.
He offered her a faint tight smile that didn’t bode well as he came through the door, and instantly tension balled tight in her chest. She couldn’t help but notice that he also looked tired.
“Before you tell me anything bad, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee,” she said.
“That sounds like a perfect plan,” he agreed. He folded his long length onto the bench at the table as she hurried to the front of the store.
She grabbed a tray and fixed two cups of coffee, and then used a paper plate and placed a number of the goodies she’d baked on it. If he had bad news, then he could deliver it with the taste of a gooey lemon bar in his mouth.
Before she carried the tray into the back room, she locked the front door and turned out the lights, officially closing up shop for the day. She then picked up the tray and headed to the back and whatever bad news Frank had brought with him.
* * *
Liz Marcoli knew it was nighttime even though the room where she was held prisoner had no windows, no way for her to know the actual time by daylight or darkness.
She only knew that when the small doggylike door at the bottom of the locked door that kept her prisoner opened and a tray of hot, hearty food was slid in, it was the evening meal.
Tonight it had been chicken and noodles, a warm yeasty roll and slightly overcooked green beans. She’d eaten the meal and shoved the tray back through the open door, wishing desperately it was big enough to crawl through.
The room where she was held was like a well-thought-out bunker room, with a bed, an easy chair with a floor lamp behind it, a shower and stool, a small table with two chairs, and shelves lining the walls...shelves that were at the moment empty.
The walls themselves appeared to be some kind of concrete except the back wall, which was earthen. It was here, in the dirt wall, that Liz had begun to keep track of her time by using a fork tine to scratch a line for every breakfast she was served. There were now twenty-two lines, but she knew she’d been here much longer.
Three times clean clothing had appeared on the tray. Underwear, which she was positive was from her dresser drawer in her house, and slightly big shapeless shiftlike dresses. She didn’t care about the fit or the color; she only cared that they were clean.
It was scary to be held without knowing why or where, but what was absolutely terrifying was that her captor had yet to show his face, had yet to speak a single word to her.
The utter silence of her surroundings threatened to drive her mad. She screamed at him when the meals were delivered, asking him who he was and what he wanted with her. The hands that shoved her meal trays through the opening were covered with thick black gloves, making it impossible for her to know the race, even the sex of the person who kept her prisoner.
She knew her nieces would have the police searching everywhere for her, but if they had any clues, she would have already been found.
There was nothing for her to do but sit in the easy chair in the room and remember her former life and pray that somehow, someway, she’d be found.
She wanted to know why this was happening to her. Who had separated her from her loved ones, from her life? She wanted her captor to show himself, to speak to her, and yet she feared that when that happened, something even more terrible would follow.
Chapter 6
Frank wrapped his hands around the coffee cup, grateful for the warmth. The rain had brought with it a chill to the air that wasn’t unusual for May, but today seemed particularly brutal. At least the sun had broken through the clouds and tomorrow promised to be a gorgeous day.
Marlene sat patiently as he took a sip of the coffee and then helped himself to one of the bars on the plate. He took a bite and rolled his eyes as his mouth filled with zesty lemon and sweetness. “Did you make these?” he asked when he’d finally swallowed.
She nodded. “You should have your own business if this is a sample of what you can bake,” he added.
Her eyes darkened a shade. “I used to dream about owning my own bakery on Main Street, but then I got married and moved away and put that dream behind me.”
“And now you’re back here and divorced, so what’s holding you back from reclaiming that dream?”
“It’s just not a priority anymore.” There was a finality in her voice that let him know she didn’t want to pursue that particular topic of conversation.
He popped one of the cinnamon bites into his mouth, chased it with another cup o
f coffee and then got down to business. “It took me nearly all day to chase down Michael. Because of the rain he wasn’t picking up trash on Main Street and he wasn’t at home. I finally caught up with him an hour ago at the Wolf’s Head Tavern.”
“And?” She leaned forward, bringing with her the scent of wildflowers and a hint of sweet spices.
Frank released a sigh, wishing he was about to tell her something that would take away the tension that tightened her slender shoulders, that played on her features. “And I don’t think he left the note.”
Her gaze searched his features, as if expecting him to change his mind. “Of course he would deny it.”
“He did,” Frank agreed. “He swore he had nothing to do with it and I believed him. He insisted that he didn’t want any more trouble with you or anyone else, that he’d already gotten stuck with trash detail and had nothing to do with any note left for you. I believed him, Marlene. My gut tells me he told me the truth and my gut is rarely wrong.”
She frowned and wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, as if he’d suddenly given her the chills. “Is it possible you’re suffering from indigestion and that’s the reason for the gut-instinct thing?”
“It could be the chili dog I had at noon, but I don’t think so,” he replied.
“If not him, then who? And what does it mean? ‘Vengeance is mine.’ Is it some sort of a threat?”
“I was hoping you might have come up with some ideas on the who and why during the day. As far as whether it constitutes a threat, although rather ambiguous, I don’t see how we can view it any other way.”
Once again her eyes grew from their pale ice-blue to the color of midnight. “I was so sure it was Michael. Are you positive he wasn’t lying to you?”
“I’m ninety-nine percent positive.”
As she released her cup and placed her hand on the table he noticed that it trembled slightly. He wanted to cover her hand with his, to take away the fear that darkened her eyes.
Lethal Lawman Page 7