by Meg Muldoon
The rest of the news story focused on the Laura Baynes’ case, and how she disappeared in similar circumstances less than a year later. A young mother from Beaverton, Laura was on her way to visit a friend in Eastern Oregon on a Greyhound. She was also last seen at the Marionberry Truck stop while the bus stopped for a break. One of the other passengers thought they saw her get into a Toyota, but didn’t see the driver’s face.
That was the last anybody ever saw of Laura Baynes. She left behind a husband and young child.
I continued reading, scrolling through the paragraphs, overcome by a bitter wave of sadness.
I couldn’t imagine what their families had gone through over the years.
I stopped scrolling suddenly as a familiar name jumped out at me in the footnote of the story.
“Sullivan Coe, who was Sheriff of Pohly County at the time of the two disappearances, declined to comment for this article. He is currently serving a sentence in the Deer Ridge Correctional Facility for attempted murder and aggravated assault. ”
I set my phone down, closed my eyes for a second, and let out an unsteady breath.
Sully Coe.
I hadn’t seen that name in some time.
Sully had been Warren’s good friend going all the way back to their childhood here in Christmas River. The two of them had been like peas in a pod for most of their lives.
Right up until Sully held me and my cousin Marie at gunpoint a few Christmases ago in the woods over some diamonds.
Understandably, Warren and Sully’s relationship didn’t weather that storm.
I shook off the chill that had taken a hold of my heart at seeing the name. Then I forced myself to move on, pulling up a few other articles, including some original ones that had been scanned and uploaded to archival web sites.
The first few stories about Amelia’s disappearance had been published in The Redmond Register – a newspaper a few towns over.
When I read the byline of those stories, I felt my eyes grow wide.
I kept rereading the name, sure that I had it wrong.
But there it was. The name too unique to be a case of mistaken identity.
I had no idea that he’d been a reporter once, or anything outside of being—
The back door to the kitchen squeaked open suddenly and a handsome man in a cowboy hat stepped in.
“What’s shaking, Pie Lady?”
Tiana jumped a little at the deep voice. She’d been so focused on filling the pie crusts in front of her with Key Lime pudding that she hadn’t even heard the door open.
I smiled apologetically at her, then set my phone aside.
“Just sitting here taking a lunch break,” I said, looking back over at the man.
“Pardon me for saying so, but it doesn’t look like you’re having much fun, Mrs. Brightman. Doesn’t look like you’re even eating any lunch.”
I looked at my empty coffee cup and shrugged.
“Well, I just can’t have that, darlin,’” he said. “C’mon. We’ve got to remedy this.”
Daniel opened the back door and nodded for me to come along.
I leaned back in my chair, glancing over at my baking assistant. There was a funny little smile on her face.
“What do you think, Tiana? Should I go anywhere with a rake like that?”
“Oh, I would,” she said, her cheeks flushing. “In a heartbeat.”
She looked up, clearing her throat.
“I mean… if I didn’t have my Toby, I would.”
She turned the color of a beet before picking up the tray of pies and tossing them in the only working oven.
I let out a good-natured laugh.
“In that case, on the advice of a friend, I accept, Daniel Brightman.”
I got up, grabbed my phone, and followed him outside to where his truck was idling.
Chapter 22
“Don’t you have a robber to put behind bars or something?”
He took off his hat and set it down on the pine table top, a content expression on his face.
“It’s under control.”
“Do you have a new lead?”
“No. But he’s got a pattern and that’s as good as sealed his fate. This guy only hits bars or pubs or liquor stores. So we’ve contacted all such establishments in the county and we’ve alerted them to the situation. They’re being surveilled round the clock, so the next time he hits a place, we’ll be waiting for him.”
I nodded.
“Smart.”
He reached across the table, taking my hand in his. The waiter tending our table here at The Sundown Sandwich Shop came by with my pale ale and set the frosty bottle down on a coaster in front of me.
I hadn’t been drinking lately. But when Daniel suggested I get a beer to go with the sandwich I’d ordered, it sounded like a nice idea.
It had been a stressful week.
“How’s that tailbone doing?” he asked.
Daniel had already asked me that three times since picking me up, but I appreciated his concern.
“Still a little sore. But I’m sure I’ll be as good as new tomorrow.”
I took a sip of my beer and glanced out the window. A few patches of blue had broken through the fog and I felt a twinge of hope that it might finally lift.
“I was glad to see that Warren’s doing okay,” Daniel said, taking a gulp of his soda. “I stopped by the pub a couple of hours ago. They were finishing up that show. He was telling the story of the robbery to the entire film crew like it was a fishing story or something.”
I smiled.
“Before they leave his pub today, I bet he’ll have them believing he got taken hostage and ransomed for a million dollars,” he added.
He smiled and I arched an eyebrow at him.
“And here you were doing so well keeping your New Year’s Resolution to stop making fun of Warren. That’s two strikes in as many days.”
A spark of mischief glowed in his eyes.
“I never claimed to be any angel, Cin.”
“No, I guess you didn’t,” I said, drumming my fingers against my lips.
I grinned.
“But you are.”
Daniel’s cheeks flushed a little at that.
He looked around the half-empty dining room. The sandwich shop, which was usually a tourist hotspot during the summers, had fallen under a sleepy haze of February just like the rest of Christmas River.
Daniels eyes settled on a young family sitting at one of the booths across the way. The youngest child, a little girl, was swinging her legs under the table, stealing wide-eyed glances at Daniel and the cowboy hat sitting on the table.
I supposed she’d never seen a real life sheriff before.
He gave her a nod of the head and a warm smile that made my heart melt a little. The girl let out a high-pitched giggle.
“So, any last minute things you want to add to our Ireland itinerary?” he asked.
Daniel and I had meticulously planned almost every day of our upcoming vacation. We were going to do all the touristy things – tour the Guinness beer factory, see the Book of Kells, and visit Trinity College in Dublin. But we’d also been sure to schedule in some nice down time to just enjoy the countryside.
“Not that I can think of. I think we did a good job planning, don’t you think?”
He nodded.
“I tell you, I can’t wait for all of it, Cin. It’s been too long since our last vacation. We ought to make a point to make them happen more.”
That was easier said than done, and Daniel knew that as well as I did. Both of our careers demanded almost all of our waking hours, and taking time off wasn’t always an option.
Still, I liked hearing him say that.
I liked the way he looked at me when he said it, too.
The start to the New Year had been difficult – I couldn’t argue with that. But I reminded myself of what I’d told Kara earlier in the day.
The thing about how there was chocolate pudding in life, too. Silve
r linings, even in the darkest of times.
“You want to hear a funny story?” he said.
I took another sip of my beer and nodded.
“Just before I came by the shop, I got an angry call from a constituent. It was a young woman.”
I furrowed my brow.
“Really? What was she upset about?”
“Well, apparently, she was appalled by my etiquette. She thought I should have gotten back to her sooner. Said I was unenthusiastic, impolite, and maybe not worth the money she’d laid down for me.”
I thought it through for a moment.
Then I put it together.
“Alana Lundy?” I said, smirking. “The tipsy school teacher?”
Daniel nodded.
“Yep. I forgot to call her to set up our lunch and she was madder than a bear in early spring when she called the Sheriff’s station today.”
“I guess that’ll teach you not to ever do the Puppy Love event again,” I said.
“Are you kidding? I’d rather knock on every door in Pohly County and ask for a donation than to be part of that side show again.”
I laughed.
“So did you set up your lunch with her?”
“Crazy lady wanted to go out on Valentine’s Day, but I told her that was out of the question. I’ve told her half a dozen times that I’m married, but she keeps on acting like she doesn’t see the wedding band on my finger. We finally settled on going out after our Ireland trip, which I think made her even more livid to have to wait so long.”
“Thought about where you’re going to take her?”
“Anthony’s Fish House.”
“Ooh. Big spender,” I teased.
He didn’t look all that amused.
“You heard from your Romeo yet?” he asked.
I took a gulp of my beer.
“Funny you should mention that, because actually—”
Just then, I heard a familiar beeping sound.
The sound that usually meant that whatever we were saying or doing would have to be put on hold for the near future.
“Sorry, Cin. I’ve got to get this.”
I smiled and nodded. I was used to this by now and I didn’t hold it against him. I couldn’t in good conscious do that. Because I knew that being married to a Sheriff meant that I had to share him sometimes with the higher good of the county.
He stood up and headed outside to the sidewalk. I watched through the window as he answered his phone, holding it up to his ear.
From the sudden change in his facial expression, I knew that the sandwiches would have to be changed to a to-go order.
Daniel hung up and came back inside, a little breathless.
“Cin, I’m sorry. I’m a no-good lunch date. But I have to—”
“Aw, don’t worry about it. I’ll bring the sandwich home for you tonight.”
He smiled, leaning down, kissing me on the cheek.
“I’m sorry again. Can Kara come pick you up?
“I’ll walk back to the shop. It’s not far and I don’t mind.”
I squeezed his hand. Then I watched as he quickly pulled on his jacket and tugged the brim of his hat down over his forehead.
“You’re something else, Cinnamon Peters,” he said.
“And you’ve got something brown on your nose,” I said with a laugh.
He tapped his hat at me then started heading for the door.
“Be careful,” I yelled after him.
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
A moment later, he got into the truck in the parking lot and peeled away quickly, the siren flashing from inside the cab.
The waiter came by a few seconds later with the sandwiches. I asked him to pack them up in a to-go box.
Then I finished my beer, fished out my phone, and called Rex Dawson’s assistant, Roberta Finch.
He was a busy man, she told me, and couldn’t meet today. But she squeezed me in for a brunch meeting with him the next morning.
Turns out, I now had a good reason to go on that date with the hammy weatherman.
Chapter 23
Walking back to the shop that afternoon, my thoughts got away from me. Like a runaway train, they took me back to that day in January.
A day I didn’t want to think about anymore.
But it didn’t seem like I had a choice.
“What… what are you…”
They were the first words I’d been able to say after he’d called me “kiddo.” And they came out staggered, wobbly, and breathless.
After the pot of coffee had shattered, I’d gone into the kitchen.
The man in gray followed me back there with slow, unsteady steps.
For a while, I hadn’t been able to do anything but stare at him in silence and shock.
And then, after a little while, that silence and shock was replaced by something else.
First, it started out as a nothing more than frustration. The way you might feel after stubbing your toe on a chair leg, or when you lock yourself out of your car and see the keys just sitting there on the driver’s seat.
But then, within a few seconds, that mild feeling of frustration turned into something else.
A whole other beast.
It was like all the anger I’d felt over the years at different points in my life – at big moments like my high school graduation, the opening of my pie shop, my first wedding with Evan, and all the rest, suddenly came rushing over me like a raging river.
Huckleberry, who had been curled up in his dog bed, seemed to sense the change in the mood. He got up and walked between us. As if trying to protect me.
I thought about the times that I’d brought Hucks to the nursing home with me. The way he’d gone over to the man, who’d been sitting there so unassumingly, reading a magazine. The dog would always pay special attention to him, even though he never encouraged it.
Huckleberry must have recognized something in the man as familiar.
I shuddered feeling mad and foolish.
“Why have you…”
I stumbled on the words.
“Why have you been following me?”
He just looked at me with wide, blank eyes.
“I didn’t want to shock you. I was… I was hoping you might recognize me on your own.”
The anger churned inside me.
I hadn’t seen him in nearly three decades.
How was I supposed to recognize him?
“Look, kiddo, I didn’t want—”
“Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that.”
My voice came out as sharp as a steel blade.
He gulped visibly. His skin looked gray.
“I didn’t want it to be… to be like this. I didn’t mean to upset you so much.”
All I had gotten from him in the last two and a half decades were a series of half-hearted birthday cards. He hadn’t even come back for mom’s funeral.
And he didn’t want to upset me.
“Please… just get out of here,” I whispered. “It’s too late for any of this.”
I recognized something like hurt in his eyes.
Normally, something like that would make me feel bad.
But in that moment, I couldn’t feel anything but anger.
He cleared his throat after a long moment of silence.
“Do you know why we named you Cinnamon?”
“I told you. I don’t—”
“We called you that because when your mom was pregnant with you, she was having some trouble, so the doctor put her on a really strict and healthy diet. But she’d get these… these cravings for pie some days. She said it was torture. One day, she cheated and snuck over to the Marionberry Diner to get some when I was at work. She fessed up eventually and we had a good laugh over it. She said that when she ordered the slice, the waitress asked if she wanted whipped cream or ice cream with it. She said no. All she wanted was a jar of cinnamon on the side. Said she never cared much for cinnamon before she got pregnant�
�”
I closed my eyes tight.
“She said that it had to be you in there wanting cinnamon. She wanted to name you that. I thought it was a bad idea. I thought we shouldn’t make you go through life with such an unusual name. But she sold me on it. And when I first saw you, Cinnamon, the day you were born – I knew that she was right. Because you deserve a special name. You deserve—”
Enough.
Enough.
Because if he really believed any of that, he wouldn’t have ever left.
“Please go. Now.”
The choked words sounded foreign as they came out of my mouth.
The anger was set to boil over, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it did.
“I can’t yet. Because there’s a reason I… I came here to see you, Cinnamon. There’s something I need to—”
“Everything all right in here, miss?”
I looked beyond the man in the gray coat, seeing Tobias standing in the doorway.
He still had his jacket on, and his cheeks were red from the cold morning.
He glanced from me to the man, a rare, hardened look in his eyes.
“I saw the broken coffee pot out in the dining room,” Tobias said. “Is this man giving you any trouble, Cin?”
I swallowed hard.
“It’s all right, Tobias,” I said in a shaky voice. “He was… he was just on his way out.”
The man in the gray coat gazed back at me, that look of hurt in his eyes again.
But I wasn’t going to fall for it.
He couldn’t begin to even know what hurt was.
The man cleared his throat.
“Uh… yeah.Just leaving.”
He looked up for a split second at me.
Then he turned and walked out past Tobias.
I didn’t start breathing again until I heard the front door bell jingle and the door close behind him.
“You okay, Cin?” Tobias said, peering at me.
I’d forced a weak smile.
“I’m… I’m fine. Thanks, Tobias.”
“I know it’s probably none of my business, Cin, but uh… who was that?”
I shook my head then and stared into the empty space where my father had been standing.
“Nobody, Tobias,” I’d said, feeling the anger cool. “Nobody at all.”