Before she made another move, Hope did a quick inventory of her body.
Her arms seemed fine. No pain. No protruding bones. Though there were a few scratches. Same with her wrists. She wiggled her toes, and there didn’t appear to be any obvious injuries. Well, only to her pants, which were ripped in several places.
She stood, keeping her moves slow and steady. Upright, she did another quick inventory of her body. All felt good until she put weight on her left ankle. A shot of pain traveled through her.
Her plan to make it up to the parking lot was in jeopardy if she couldn’t walk. She’d been right about the embankment being a safety hazard. But being right was of little comfort at the moment.
She looked for her tote bag. Maybe her phone was nearby too.
Could she be so lucky?
She spotted her bag caught on a nub of a log up ahead.
She sucked in a fortifying breath and hiked up, wincing and cursing each time her left foot hit the ground. Just a few more steps. She tried to focus on the bright side. If her ankle was broken, climbing would be impossible.
Focus on the good news.
She reached the log and grabbed her tote bag. She disengaged the handles from the nub while balancing on her right leg. Not so easy when her whole body was shaking. She searched inside for her phone, but it wasn’t in there. Damn! It must’ve fallen out during the scuffle.
She’d have to call for help from the test kitchen. With her tote bag slung over her shoulder, she pushed onward to reach the parking lot. She tried not to cry, but tears streamed down her face with every step closer to the parking lot.
Not too much farther.
She arrived at the top of the slope and paused for a moment to compose herself. Wiping away the tears, she took in a grateful breath. She was safe.
Hope hobbled to her vehicle and noticed two things right away. First, two of her tires were slashed. Outrage bubbled up in her, but the second thing she noticed trumped the outrage—her cell phone on the ground. She bent over, balancing precariously on her right leg. It was cracked, but when she pressed the Home button, the screen lit up and she got a signal.
Yes! It worked.
She tapped on the Contacts app on her phone.
She pressed Ethan’s contact.
Only minutes earlier, she was calling him to invite him to dinner.
Now she was calling to report an assault.
Chapter Fifteen
“Is it my imagination or has Helga become more aggressive?” Ethan set the basket of fresh eggs on the kitchen island and then inspected the peck marks on the back of his hand.
After he’d driven Hope home last night, he’d offered to come over first thing in the morning to do the chores. She’d gratefully accepted. Her ankle injury hadn’t required a visit to the emergency room, but it made for an uncomfortable night’s sleep and a slow go in starting her day.
Too bad Helga didn’t appreciate Ethan’s helpfulness. The four-pound Hamburg hen was a silver-spangled variety, and she flaunted her good looks. She also wasn’t shy about expressing her displeasure. She’d pecked at Hope, too, but over time, the bird had taken it down a notch; now, looking at Ethan’s hand, Hope guessed the bird hadn’t completely turned a new leaf.
“She’s feisty. It’s part of her charm.”
Ethan snorted.
While he washed his hands, Hope poured a cup of coffee. She handed him the cup after he dried his hands. He flashed a grateful smile and then went to the table.
When she had called him last night after climbing up from the ravine, he’d immediately contacted the local police department and, within minutes, police cars sped into the parking lot. He’d arrived with lights and sirens not long after the first responding officers. She was confident he’d broken every speeding limit to get to her, even though she assured him she was okay. She’d been in the middle of giving a statement to the first responding officer and insisting she didn’t need an ambulance when Ethan rushed to her. He pulled her into his embrace and whispered thanks that she wasn’t seriously hurt. Being wrapped in his arms comforted her, and she felt safe.
“How are you feeling? Should you be standing?”
“Probably not. But I can’t just sit around all day. I’ll go crazy.” Hope filled her mug and added milk. “Have you heard anything about the incident?”
“Nothing yet. There’s not much to go on. The magazine’s security cameras didn’t capture any usable footage. It looks like what happened was out of range. Honestly, the magazine needs to upgrade their security. Something you need to consider.”
“I have security.” Hope nodded in Bigelow’s direction.
He was sleeping on his bed in the corner of the family room. He’d gotten up bright and early with Hope, gone outside to do his business, and returned for breakfast, which Ethan prepared for him, and then curled up for his first nap of the day.
“Actually, I think Princess may be fiercer.”
“Where is the little terror?”
Hope shrugged. “Haven’t seen her since you fed her breakfast. Thank you for helping. Even though I’m able to walk, I couldn’t have done the chores out in the barn.”
“You need to take it easy. Stay in, bake something, write a blog post, read a book. Do something besides snooping around for the killer.” Ethan took a long drink of his coffee. He’d made his point. He suspected the assault on Hope was connected to the murders and she couldn’t disagree. But if the killer knew how little she actually knew, he or she wouldn’t have wasted time trying to scare her off.
There was a knock at the back door.
“You locked it?” Hope asked.
“As you should all the time.” Ethan stood and walked out to the mudroom and returned with Drew behind him.
While Drew flung open his arms as he approached Hope, Ethan sat back down at the table.
Drew pulled her into a big hug. “So glad you’re okay. I was scared to death when Claire called me last night and told me what happened.”
She could imagine the state Claire was in when she called Drew last night. After Hope’s call to Ethan, she’d called Claire, who hadn’t taken the news well. In fact, she took it so badly, Hope had to pull her phone from her ear because her sister was yelling. Luckily, the police had arrived, and Hope had to end the call. The cops might not have been able to save her from the assailant, but they saved her from her sister . . . well, at least for a little while.
Hope would have to face her sister at some point.
“I’m okay. I’m going to live.”
Drew’s hold on Hope was tight, but when she tried to break free, he tightened the hug.
“Drew, I’m serious. I’m okay. You can let go of me.”
“Oh, okay.” Drew released Hope and stepped backward, giving her a once-over from head to toes. “I hate the thought of someone attacking you from behind. Talk about cowardly.”
“Tell me about it.” Hope took another cup from the cabinet and filled it with coffee for Drew. She gestured to the carton of milk on the island before she lifted her mug and limped to the table, hiding the stabs of pain shooting up her leg. If either Ethan or Drew saw her as much as wince, they’d force her to stay put, and she hated being confined.
“Any leads on who did this?” Drew topped off his coffee with milk and joined Ethan at the table.
“Not so far.” Ethan checked his cell phone as he drank his coffee.
“You didn’t catch a glimpse of who did this?” Drew asked Hope.
“No. It happened so fast. By the time I realized someone was behind me, it was too late. I was pushed. I’m sure the police will find out who attacked me.” Hope took a drink of her coffee and leaned back.
“From what I’ve learned so far, there’s little for them to go on. Too bad you didn’t get a look at the person.” Drew’s gaze drifted to the island and onto the egg basket. “Did you make breakfast yet?”
“No. Would you like something to eat?”
Drew’s shoulders lifted, an
d he smiled. “An omelet would be great.”
“Drew, she hurt her ankle,” Ethan said.
“It’s okay. It’ll only take a few minutes to whip up an omelet and then I’ll rest.” Hope eased up and, with her cup, limped back to the island to start cooking.
“I scooped Norrie. Again. I just filed my story with my editor.” Drew gave a little smug shoulder shimmy.
“Is that so? What do you have?” Ethan’s voice had taken on a serious tone.
Drew tilted his head. “I believe the police haven’t even stumbled upon this information.” His lips slid into a priggish smile that matched his shoulder action.
“Drew.” Ethan’s voice deepened and he lowered his phone.
Ethan’s intensity should’ve made Drew squirm, but, to his credit, he didn’t. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and returned Ethan’s glare.
Oh, no. A showdown.
Ethan waited, not saying a word or breaking eye contact.
Hope held her breath.
Drew rolled his eyes and leaned forward, uncrossing his arms. “Fine. But you can’t share this publicly until my article is published.”
“You don’t get to set restrictions on my department.” Ethan’s posture stiffened, and Hope looked at the bowl of cracked eggs. She hated when Drew and Ethan got into disagreements about the public’s right to know.
She heated a pan on the stovetop and resumed whisking the eggs with water. The steam from the water made for a nice, fluffy omelet.
“I really need the exclusive, so try to help a guy out.”
“No promises.” Ethan shoved his cup aside and leaned back.
“I tracked down a birth certificate for a baby named Katherine. Miranda was listed as the mother and Ken Ellis was listed as the father.”
Hope’s head swung up as she poured half the egg mixture into the pan.
A baby?
“Based on my research, Miranda gave birth a few months after Lionel left her. I can do simple math. I suspect Ken Ellis isn’t the biological father.” Drew took a drink of his coffee and eyed Hope. “Have you any of your honey wheat bread left?”
Hope nodded. Once a week she made a loaf, and there was still some left. Perhaps she’d bake another loaf, seeing as she was limited in what she could do until her ankle healed. Returning her attention to the omelet, she added leftover diced tomatoes and a handful of shredded cheddar cheese to the egg mixture.
“She’s not a short-order cook,” Ethan admonished.
“I’ll make the toast myself.” Drew stood and walked to the island. He pulled open the bread drawer and grabbed the loaf of bread.
“How’d you get the birth certificate?” Ethan asked.
“I have my sources and methods.” At the island, Drew opened the bread bag and pulled a serrated knife from the walnut knife block.
Hope folded over one side of the omelet and then slid out the egg dish, allowing it to fold over itself on the plate. It was a perfect cocoon of fluffy eggs and melted cheese with a brightness from the tomatoes.
“Isn’t Kitty a nickname for Katherine?” Hope handed Drew the plate and gestured she’d take care of the toast. What were a few more minutes on her aching ankle? She could make both men fend for themselves, but she couldn’t help herself. She enjoyed cooking for others. With four slices of bread in the toaster, she returned to the stovetop, took out another pan from the lower cupboard, and began making a second omelet.
“It could be.” Drew sat at the table and broke into his omelet. He made yummy noises as he chewed.
Ethan stood and helped himself to a coffee refill. “Why are you asking, Hope?”
She recalled Kitty’s words after Lionel was murdered. She was talking about herself.
“Men like him think they can get away with whatever they want and consequences be damned. They leave broken families, children, in the wake of their greed and lust.”
“I’ve been working with a woman named Kitty Ellis at Cooking Now who is young enough to be Miranda’s daughter. I think she’s Miranda and Lionel’s daughter.” Hope sprinkled tomatoes and cheese into the second omelet. Ethan hadn’t asked for one and he wouldn’t, because she was injured. But he’d had a late night and was up before dawn. He needed to eat something and not just grab a bagel on the way to the police department. While the omelet cooked, she buttered the toast and replaced the bread into the bag and then put it back into the drawer.
“No!” Drew flipped open his messenger bag and pulled out his notepad and quickly jotted notes. “This is huge!”
“I’ll have Reid look into it.” Ethan joined Hope at the island. “Maybe it’s a good idea to stay away from the magazine until we know who pushed you and slashed your tires.”
There was that look again. The one she saw on Ethan’s face in the few seconds between him arriving on the scene and pulling her into his arms. Worry, fear, relief all rolled together and making her feel guilty.
Wait. Why was she feeling guilty? The person who’d pushed her down the embankment should bear the full weight of remorsefulness. Not her.
“I don’t want to overreact or change my life because of what happened last night.” Hope leaned her arms on the island, shifting some body weight off her ankle.
“It’s not just one incident. There was the message spray-painted on your garage door,” Ethan reminded her.
She plated the omelet.
“Thanks.” He carried the plate and coffee cup back to the table.
“I have a little more to do on my feature and the editor in chief wants to meet with me.” Hope set the pan on a trivet.
“Why?” Ethan broke off a piece of the omelet and chewed.
“Not sure. I’ll be careful, and I’ll leave when it’s still light out.” Hope pushed off the island. “I think I need to sit.”
Ethan jumped up from his chair and rushed over to her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, taking the weight off her ankle, and guided her to the table. His cell phone dinged, and he read the new text message.
“Sorry. I’ve gotta go. Drew, can you stay and clean up the dishes?”
Drew had a mouthful of toast, so he nodded his reply.
“Thanks.” Ethan kissed Hope on the head. “Don’t overdo it today. And be careful.” He grabbed a slice of toast to take on his way out the back door.
“I think I’ll pay Miss Ellis a visit.” Drew drained the last of his coffee.
“When?” Hope pulled Ethan’s plate toward her. He’d left half the omelet. She picked up his fork and finished what remained.
“You heard what Ethan said. He wants you to take it easy and stay out of trouble.” Drew finished eating his toast.
“There are a lot of things he wants.” She smiled. She hated going against his wishes, but she was a big girl and could take care of herself. After all, she’d managed to get herself out of the embankment the night before.
“You think Kitty pushed you?”
Hope shrugged. “No idea. But I’m curious if she’s Miranda’s daughter.”
“Let me do my job.” Drew wiped his mouth with a napkin, then stood. He walked to Hope’s side and held out his hand. “You’re staying put.”
“But . . .”
“No buts. I’ll go talk to Kitty. You’ll stay and rest your ankle.” He tugged her up and assisted her to the family room. They made their way to the sofa and she sat. Next, he retrieved her laptop from the coffee table and handed it to her. “I’ll clean up and you can do some work.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but Drew raised a finger.
He grinned. He seemed to be enjoying bossing her around. “This isn’t up for negotiation.”
Her lips twisted with frustration. When did he start listening to Ethan?
* * *
Hope pushed open the front door and immediately regretted calling her sister for a ride to the Merrifield Inn for two reasons.
The first reason was having to listen to Claire once again read her the riot act about putting herself in danger. Ho
pe tried to tell her sister she was simply walking to her car, but, because Claire was on a roll, she couldn’t get in a word. She’d resigned herself to listening and nodding. That way her sister could get the lecture out of her system.
The second reason was the scene she’d just come upon. She considered retracing her steps back out to the sidewalk and waiting for Claire to come back for her.
But it was too late. Sally had spotted her.
“Thank goodness you’re here. Maybe you can talk some sense into them.” Sally gestured to Miranda and Rona, who were nose to nose in a heated discussion in the lobby of the inn. “We can’t break up this catfight.” For Sally to admit she’d failed to shush someone meant the situation had gone totally awry.
“I will fight for what’s mine. You don’t intimidate me.” Rona seemed to be all fired up. She poked a finger at Miranda, just shy of touching her.
“You can fight all you want, but it’ll do you no good. Everything goes to me. I’ve already consulted with my lawyer.” Miranda rested her hands on her hips. Dressed in a black-and-white, polka-dot chiffon dress, she appeared poised and confident. She’d finished the outfit off with simple, low-heeled black wedge pumps and a round white purse.
“I’ve got a lawyer too.” Rona lowered her hand and took an equally defiant stance. Her short hair had sculpted spikes again, and she wore a cap-sleeved, bleached-denim dress and gold-tone sandals. She’d added a long, beaded necklace with a cross pendant and a scarf fringed with pom-poms for a bit of boho flair.
Elaine had been an outlier in the group but now jumped into the fray after pulling her phone from her designer purse and holding it up for the two other women to see. “Hold on one second. I’m his wife. We were married in a lovely service in front of hundreds of people. See. Our wedding photos.”
Those photographs started a new round of legal threats in high-pitched voices all at once. The three of them jabbered away, but none of them was being heard.
It gave Hope a headache, and she’d only been inside the inn for a few minutes. Then it struck her how all three of Lionel’s wives were very different. He didn’t seem to have had a type. There was the conservative Miranda, the free spirit Rona, and the over-the-top, showy Elaine.
Three Widows and a Corpse Page 17