Pies & Peril (17 page)

Carla rolled her eyes.
"That Elliot guy really is a creepy asshole. What's up with the stuck up English professor routine?"

Amy exchanged a ticket for a glass that appeared to be full of yellow highlight marker ink. Since the display was in front of a stationery and pen store, the cocktail color couldn
't have been more appropriate. Lemon Lime Zinger was the name, written in fancy calligraphic script, on a paper taped to the front of the table. "I don't know. He's just strange. I bet he buys a new word-a-day calendar every year, and he's determined to get his money's worth out of the purchase."

"
Ha!" Carla said as she popped a square of puff pastry into her mouth. "I still think you may be right about him being involved in the murder. He just doesn't seem quite…right."

"
I'll toast to that." Amy raised the glass to Carla. Her eyebrow twitched involuntarily as she took a sip of the lemony sour concoction. It was zingy, as advertised. Definitely more of a slam it and get it over with kind of drink. Not something that could be sipped and savored, unless the drinker was a fan of sour gummy worms. It tasted exactly like one. She tipped the glass up and emptied it with one gulp then tossed the plastic shot glass into a nearby trash can.

She and Carla continued down the block in the same manner. Moving forward in the less crowded confines of the roadway
and then swooping in to peruse interesting tables. Some of the snack offerings were savory. A nice contrast to all of the sweet desserts. By the end of the first block of businesses they had tried everything from the stationery store's tiny rectangles of lemon curd-filled phyllo dough that looked like miniature edible books to deviled eggs topped with maple candied bacon bits from a men's clothing store.

At the intersection in the middle of the two
-block-long event space, Amy suddenly broke into an empty bubble that was void of people. On the other side of the open area, Lucy was being hugged by a woman yelling, "Congratulations! I can't believe you're going to have a baby!"

Lucy wriggled out of the drunken hug. As she twisted
, her gaze locked onto Amy. The death-ray stare of doom bored into Amy's brain, and she froze like a rabbit in the middle of a busy freeway.

"
Come on," Carla whispered as she tugged on Amy's belt, "Before you're a victim of a hormone-fueled psycho attack. Pregnant women can go from marshmallow sweet to Incredible Hulk in ten seconds flat."

Amy struggled to push through a sudden, claustrophobic crush of partiers. Navigating
between all of the swaying bodies and sloshing shot glasses made the flight away from Lucy frustrating. She kept checking behind her, but the only person following was Carla. Finally they made it across the street intersection, and the alcohol gods rewarded her with a table full of straight up rye whiskey at the cigar store. No mixers or ice to water down its potency, just pure, mind-numbing, panic-attack-curbing whiskey. Hurray!

She held a red ticket up to the man behind the table, tossed it into the fishbowl being used for collecting them
, and plucked a shot glass off the heavy, polished wood desk that was being used as a display table. She closed her eyes and swallowed. The alcohol burn made her eyes water. Her nose tingled like she'd inhaled a cloud of dust. She opened her eyes and was greeted by an extremely pissed off Lucy.

"
Stop stalking me, and mind your own business," Lucy hissed. She pointed a finger at Amy's nose. The black polish on her long nails made them look like talons on a bird of prey. "Don't ever spy on me again."

Amy
's mouth dropped open. The cocktails had canceled out any chance for her producing a snappy comeback. Carla saved her when she stepped forward to lock horns with the Mandy Jo look-alike who had now adopted her former shrunken twin's personality.

"
Look. I don't give a damn about you or who you're screwing. If you don't want half the town to know about your personal life, I'd suggest telling your drunken friends to stop shouting that you're pregnant in the middle of a crowd. I'm sure at least twenty other people heard the same thing Amy and I did, so back off."

*  *  *

"Other than the encounters with the freaks and geeks involved in the murder case, I have to say this has been a fun night," Carla said. The lights on her car flashed to indicate it was unlocked. "Thanks for asking me to come with you."

"
No problem," Amy said. "It was much better than staying at home with all the curtains closed waiting for another rock to land on the deck. Plus, you did a fabulous job putting Lucy in her place. I swear it was like she was channeling Mandy Jo's ghost."

Amy gingerly stepped down from the curb and lowered herself into the passenger seat of the car. Carla had been nice enough to open the door for her. After checking to make sure all of her appendages
and clothes were safely inside the car, she pulled the door shut then leaned forward to put her purse on the floor. The world tilted off kilter, but gravity prevailed, and everything went back to normal. The glitch was a harbinger. The bed would be spinning when she tried to sleep later. Obviously she hadn't calculated her carb versus alcohol intake correctly. She, without a doubt, was well and truly drunk even though she'd had no intention of ending up that way.

Carla had climbed behind the wheel by the time her equilibrium reappeared. She patted Amy
's knee. "With Main Street blocked and all of these cars parked everywhere, I'm going to have to take you home by the back way on River Road. I know exactly where I'm going. Don't play drunken GPS and tell me I'm going the wrong way, because I'm not. Okay?"

"
Okey-dokey." She snorted. "I sound like Lucy. She said okey-dokey when I called Kevin's office before I delivered the casseroles."

Amy leaned her head back when the car lurched out of the parking spot. Carla
's race-car-driver-being-chased-by-demons driving style would leave her wobbling like a bobblehead doll in an earthquake. Some stabilization via the headrest was absolutely in order. She closed her eyes because the street lights streaking past made her feel like she was traveling through a time warp in a sci-fi movie with a galactic-sized case of motion sickness nipping at her heels.

"
Stupid asshole!"

The spaceship hit some turbulence. Amy
's eyes popped open. Who was Carla talking about? The interior of the car was filled with yellow light. "What's going on?"

"
Some idiot in a big SUV has his high beams on and is sitting on my back bumper. I think there's a spot to pull off up here. I'll let him by."

The car slowed then lurched forward.

"What the hell? He just ran into me!"

Amy clutched the arm rest on her seat. Fear had miraculous sobering properties. To her right, the water in the river twinkled in the moonlight. River Road was infamous for its sharp curves and narrow shoulders atop the steep banks of the Cooley River. Carla had ample skills to drive the road, when she could see and wasn
't playing bumper cars with an idiot.

"
There's a straight section of road ahead. Hopefully he'll pass. See if you can get the license plate number so I can turn the moron into the police."

"
I'll try." Amy grabbed her phone out of her pocket. "Do you want me to dial 9-1-1?"

"
No, I think he'll go past. Text yourself the plate numbers."

"
Good idea."
Excellent
idea. Carla's ability to think while under pressure was impressive. Nothing seemed to ruffle her composure. Amy poised her thumbs over the glowing numbers on the virtual keyboard. "I'm ready."

"
Here comes the straight stretch. I'm going to pull toward the shoulder to give the vehicle more room to pass."

Amy glanced in the side mirror as Carla
tapped the brakes and inched toward the river. The light filling the tiny car shifted as darkness chased it from the right. The offensive vehicle pulled into the other lane.

"
Shit!"

The rumble of gravel under the tires was punctuated by a loud thump. The back end of the car veered toward the river. The engine roared and they shot forward as Carla stomped on the gas pedal. She corrected their trajectory and pitched the car sideways into a curve.

"Now call 9-1-1. Somebody is definitely trying to run us off the road."

A scream lodged in Amy
's throat as she dialed the emergency number. "Hold the phone out so I can talk to the operator," Carla instructed.

"
Nine one one. What is your emergency?"

"
I'm driving on River Road, coming up to Crosswell Drive," Carla calmly said. "There is a vehicle driving erratically behind me. It just hit my bumper and almost pushed my car into the river. I'm pretty sure they're trying to run me off the road."

"
Are you injured?" the calm voice asked.

"
No, I'm still driving, trying to outrun it. I think it's a full-size pickup, but I haven't been able to see the whole vehicle yet to be sure."

There was a pause.
"My name is Alice. Please stay on the line. There aren't any police cars close to you, but they're on the way."

"
Thank you." Carla grunted. "Hang on. I think they're going to try to ram me again."

Amy grabbed the arm rest on the door. Her heartbeat pounded so hard she could feel the repercussions in her toes. The headlight beams shifted again as the
hulking vehicle pulled into the opposing lane. Tires squealed and Amy snapped forward, the seatbelt burrowed a groove across her chest, at the sudden deceleration. The phone clattered out of her hand. A black pickup shot past.

"
I can't read the plate!" Carla said.

"
What's happening? Are you okay?" The muffled voice of the emergency operator asked.

Amy zeroed in on the glow of the phone
's screen and picked it up out of the foot well. "We're okay," Carla answered. "Definitely a pickup. Black or possibly another dark color. It finally passed us. There was some kind of tinted plastic cover on the license plate. We couldn't see any numbers."

Ahead the bright red glow of brake lights looked like the eyes of a gigantic, evil creature waiting to devour them. The lights dimmed and then faded into the darkness.

"The truck is pulling away," Carla said. "Hopefully it won't turn around and come at us head on. I'm not going to park and be a sitting duck. We're only a few minutes away from the house. Alice, please have the police meet us at…"

"
Thirteen forty-three Oak Grove," Amy interjected.

Amy held her breath as Carla accelerated again. Knowing the pickup truck could be lurking around the next corner made her dizzy with fear. The fun evening with her best friend had turned into a deadly game of cat and mouse.

Carla continued talking to the emergency operator. "The truck hit my car a few times. There should be at least some paint transfer evidence. Please contact Detective Bruce Shepler with the Kellerton P.D. I know he's off duty, but I'm pretty sure this incident has something to do with one of his cases."

"We've pulled into the driveway." Carla took her foot off the gas pedal and let the car slowly coast up Amy's driveway. She stared into the rearview mirror. The pickup hadn't reappeared after it blew past them, but a black truck could easily have hidden in the dead of night on a dark, rural road. She had never been so happy to see the Victorian-style iron street lamps that lined the streets in Amy's neighborhood. The porch light on the house filled the car with light that was far less sinister than the headlights from ten minutes earlier. The faint, frenzied whine of a siren heralded the approaching law enforcement cavalry. "I can hear the police sirens coming. Please let them know my friend and I are in a red Nissan Juke parked in the driveway. The vehicle that was trying to ram us was, I think, a black, full-sized Chevy pickup. Thank you for your help."

There was another pause and then the operator said,
"I've relayed that information to the officers. I can stay on the line with you until they arrive if you would like, or you can hang up."

Carla glanced at Amy. Her friend
's eyes were so wide she looked like a cartoon character. "The police cars should be here any moment, so I'll hang up."

"
That's fine. I'm glad you are safe."

"
Me, too," Amy whispered as she touched the phone screen to disconnect the call.

"
Are you okay?" Carla asked as she gently patted Amy's knee.

"
Nope. Not at all. Not one bit." She stared at the lighted hanging lantern next to the side door on her house. "I thought somebody was trying to scare me away from competing in the pie contest. That's it. Just cruel words to psych me out. A big, nasty truck is much scarier than grammatically incorrect sentences."

Carla opened her door.
"Let's go into the house and get some coffee going. Between the cocktails and the drive home, I'm sure you can use some."

The sirens continued to get louder as they hurried up the short walkway. As Amy punched in her security code the noise stopped. Hopefully
the officers were being considerate of the neighbors and the fact that it was after 11 p.m., not called away for something else. Amy hadn't even made it to the coffee maker before the answer arrived. Two squad cars stopped on the street in front of the house.

"
Did you re-arm the security system?" Carla asked with her hand on the door handle. The last thing Amy needed was the added stress of trying to shut off a screeching false alarm.

Amy shook her head without turning around as she measured coffee beans into the grinder.
"No, you can open it."

"
Do me a favor and call Alex. He needs to know about this," Carla called as she walked out to greet the officers, one of whom was already squatting at the back bumper of her car. "Thank you for coming so quickly. I'm sure your hands are full with all of the drunks downtown."

"
It is a busy night," a tall, skinny officer said as he strode toward her. "Do you think the person who hit your car was drunk?"

"
No. I'm positive those were deliberate attempts to shove me off the road into the river. Whoever was in that truck knew exactly what they were doing. I was driving my friend home from Shots & Whatnots. With so many roads closed or clogged with parked cars, I figured the easiest way to get back here was to take River Road. Unfortunately, whoever was driving the truck figured out it was the perfect place to cause an accident. My friend has been receiving death threats in connection with the murder case at the pie contest a few weeks ago. Looks like someone was trying to make good on the threats."

A blue pickup pulled up behind the squad cars parked at the curb. For a second Carla
's heart clattered in her chest. Had the truck been blue instead of black? Then Bruce jogged around the front of the vehicle. Her pulse was still elevated, but for a much more pleasant reason. He wore faded blue jeans and a tight, green V-neck T-shirt that practically molded itself to his abs and pecs. As he walked across the lawn he pulled his badge out of his back pocket and flashed it at the patrol officers. Carla's thigh muscles twitched. She wanted to run and throw herself into his arms, but it wasn't the time for that.

Five minutes later the
overwhelming need for physical contact hadn't dissipated. She had recounted the harrowing drive, and Bruce had given instructions to the other officers to collect paint transfer and photographic evidence. How much longer would they need to stand around acting like casual acquaintances? He pointed at the kitchen door. "I assume Amy's in the house. I need to speak with her."

Carla inhaled deeply and then slowly released the breath. Someone had tried to kill her best friend, and herself in the process, yet all she wanted to do was slip her hands under that tight
T-shirt and make Bruce forget that he was a cop, kind of like the way she had forgotten, until that moment, that she was a nurse who was supposed to be at work in a few minutes.

"
Shit."

"
What?" he asked as he tapped on the glass of the door to get Amy's attention. "What's wrong?"

"
I need to call into work." She pulled her cell phone out of her jeans pocket and looked at the clock on its screen. There was no way she would make it. "I'm supposed to be there in fifteen minutes."

Bruce opened the door after Amy waved him in. He stood in the open doorway and turned to Carla.
"Don't just tell them you'll be late. Tell your boss you won't be in at all. You can't work after getting shaken up like this."

Carla smiled grimly then walked around to the front of the house as the phone dialed the direct number to the nurse
's desk in the ER. Amy hadn't turned on any other lights in the house. The front porch was dark and shadowy, to match her mood. She sat on the wooden hanging swing at the far end and swayed as she gave a brief account of the hellish drive to the head nurse then apologized profusely for not being able to make it in. A replacement could easily be found, her boss assured her. The obvious concern in the other woman's voiced tipped Carla over the edge she had been teetering on for the last half hour.

Hot tears trickled down her cheeks as she choked out a goodbye. What was wrong with her? She didn
't cry. She just didn't do that. Ever. She held it together while people's lives crumbled around her in the emergency room. Sick children, grandparents with strokes, husbands with heart attacks, all with terrified family members. Keeping her emotions in check was a crucial component of being an ER nurse. Two years ago she had been held at knifepoint by a stoned junkie who had checked into the hospital in hopes of stealing more drugs. She talked the crazed patient into handing the knife over to her. And she didn't fall apart.

She swiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand and took a shaky breath as she tossed the phone on the swing cushion beside her. A shuddering sob tore through her body. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and covered her face with her hands. She listened to the voices of the sheriff
's officers speaking with Bruce, then the thumps of car doors and engines firing up as they left. She couldn't go back into the house. Amy knew she never got upset. If she saw her blubbering like a scared child, everything would get worse. Amy and Bruce would know exactly how close they had come to plunging into the river. How hard she had fought to keep the car under control. How terrified she was through the entire ordeal.

The sound of a vehicle quickly approaching drew Carla
's attention. She picked her head up and watched Alex's black Jeep careen into the driveway. Within seconds he was out of the vehicle and into the house. Amy would be fine now that her loving, ferociously protective husband was home to take care of her. The poor guy would probably never let her out of his sight again until the murderer was behind bars.

Carla stared at the Colonial style house across the street. Every window was lit up and an old man with fuzzy white hair stood in the living room window. The neighborhood probably hadn
't seen so much excitement in years. Finally the tears were drying but most likely had left red blotches in their wake.

"
Everything okay out here?"

Bruce stepped up onto the other end of the porch. His boots thumped like a heartbeat on the wooden planks as he approached
her. "I need to make a few phone calls, but I'm pretty much done. Is your car drivable?"

She splayed her fingers and ran them through her hair.
"It's just body damage, I think. It seemed to be driving fine. Why?"

"
I want you to come back to my place for the night. I'll follow to make sure that creep doesn't reappear. I had just picked up a pizza when I got the call from the 9-1-1 operator. I tossed it in the oven to keep warm. Come share it with me?" He held his hand out to her. "You can't be alone tonight."

Carla placed her hand in his and let him help her to her feet.
"I'll go to your apartment, but I want more than pizza," she whispered as his warm lips closed over hers.

She looked into the kitchen as they passed by the window. Amy clung to Alex, her face buried in his chest. Carla tapped on the window and waved goodbye when Amy looked up. Her friend waved back then returned to the
same position.

"
Looks like she's all set now that Alex is here." She stepped off the porch. "I'll check with her tomorrow. Let's go."

*  *  *

Amy's eyes snapped open. The bright green glowing numbers of the clock on the nightstand made her eyes throb. She closed them again. Too late. A marble of pain expanded to fill her head. Somehow her beating heart migrated to her skull. Thump. Thump. Ouch.

The numbers 4:16 were tattooed on the inside of her eyelids. What was she doing awake at that time of the morning
, and why did she feel so terrible? A clunk answered the first question. Some kind of noise woke her up. She managed to pry one eye back open to see Alex emerging from the master bathroom. He had opened the door before shutting off the light. The flash of light slammed her tortured brain to its knees. She yanked the sheet over her head and groaned.

"
Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," Alex murmured as he snuggled in behind her. "Are you okay?"

"
No. My head hurts, and it's 4 o'clock in the morning."

He burrowed under the sheets then pushed her hair aside and kissed the base of her neck. His other hand traced circles on her hip.

"I'll tell you what. Keep your head covered for a bit while I get something to help with the hangover." The bed wobbled as he slid back off of it. "Be back in a few minutes."

The atmosphere in the sheet cocoon lightened from black to gray. A couple shuffling noises, a bang
, and a thump followed. Amy lay still, trying to put together the pieces of the previous night. Alex just said he'd help with her hangover…which would be the logical result of downing almost a dozen potent cocktail shots. The later parts of the evening were a bit fuzzy, but, damn, she and Carla had fun. The luscious scent of chocolate drifted through the cotton barrier as the horrific journey home played out again in her mind. How close had they come to plunging into the dark, deep water of the river?

The air in the tent-like
space that had been comforting a minute earlier soared to unbearably hot. She threw the sheets back and squeaked. Alex was standing beside the bed, a steaming mug of something that smelled chocolaty in his hand. He set the mug on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the mattress. As he smoothed sweat-drenched hair away from her face he said, "You know, I thought a hot drink maker in the bedroom was a bit extravagant when you bought it, but now I'm so glad you did. I can take care of you without even leaving the room."

"
I appreciate that," she said as she reached for the mug, but the nightstand was too far away for her embattled body to reach. She gave up the quest with a sigh.

"
No problem." He placed the dark blue, ceramic mug into her hand and then kissed her nose. "What else can I do?"

She took a sip of the mystery beverage. Hot chocolate. More precisely, salted caramel dark chocolate. Her husband definitely knew her well. What a wonderful thing. A not so wonderful thing was almost taking an unscheduled underwater excursion.

"Tell me why somebody wants to kill me." Her voice sounded like a dog whistle. The shrill, whiny tone made her head throb again. How pathetic. Hopefully Pogo was sleeping downstairs, out of hearing range.

Deep lines grooved his forehead as he frowned.
"I would love to, if only I could." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. "But I think Detective Shepler is more qualified to do that. I will keep you safe the best that I can until the maniac is behind bars."

Amy blinked. Reality settled on her chest like a heavy rock. She had figured the person behind the notes was just a trophy
-hungry pie baker trying to scare her away from the contest. Letting her guard down, an evening out with her best friend, almost got both of them killed.

"
What did I do to make the killer come after me? Mandy Jo was the wicked witch of Kellerton. She may have pissed off the wrong person at the wrong time. I thought I had this figured out. Rayshelle was sending me the notes to throw me off my game so she could win the pie contest, while Kevin or his lover, or maybe even Elliot, killed Mandy Jo."