Chocolate Dipped Death (31 page)

Miles seemed rattled for the first time all night. “Because it wasn’t
doing
its job.”

“It might have if you’d just waited.”

“For what? For her to call for help?” I don’t know what he had planned, but he seemed to make a spur-of-the-moment decision, veering off the road into the golf course parking lot. This was it. Now or never. I could save myself or end up a statistic.

He skidded to a stop in front of the clubhouse, and I waited breathlessly for him to let go of me. He’d have to at some point, if only for a second. I’d have to be ready to make my move.

But I was wrong. He left the truck running and dragged me behind him as he jumped from the seat. Frantic to save myself, I grabbed the steering wheel and held on with both hands. He was strong, but despair can work miracles. I created just enough resistance to loosen his grip, which gave me a split second to slither away from him. I was lying across the seat again with my head near the open door, so I used the only weapon I had.

Frantic to stay alive, I sank my teeth into the soft flesh of his wrist and bit as hard as I could. He let out a roar of pain, but that only made me more determined. It meant I had a chance.

He jerked his arm away, and I thought he might pull my teeth out with it, but I managed to hang on. But only for one breath. With a bellow of rage, he hit me across the side of the face hard enough to make my nose bleed. Pain lanced through my temple, cheek, and jaw, but I refused to let go.

I turned loose of the steering wheel, but only so I could lay my hand across the horn. The noise echoed in the emptiness around us, and I prayed that Wyatt would hear it—that Wyatt
could
hear it.

Miles hit me again. This time, the pain seemed dull and far away. My bite loosened. There wasn’t anything I could do to stop it. Miles grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the truck. I knew my knee hurt, and my leg wouldn’t support my weight, but that pain, too, seemed almost disconnected from me somehow.

As my hand left the steering wheel, the horn stopped honking, and silence settled around us again. Miles took a couple of steps, but even if I’d wanted to keep up with him, my leg simply wouldn’t let me. I sank to the ground, aware of a sickening pop and a burning sensation I hoped I’d be around to feel later.

Miles whipped back around and stared down at me. His eyes were glazed, his face contorted with fury. “Get up.”

“I can’t, Miles. My knee—”

“I don’t care about your knee.
Get up.
” He jerked on my arm and moved me a couple of inches along the pavement. Just as I’d suspected, the more control he lost over the situation, the more vulnerable he seemed. “Get up, or I’ll kill you right where we stand.”

I had no doubt of that. This was it. I had to find a way to save myself, or I was going to die. One sharp image— a maneuver I’d learned during a long-ago self-defense course—flashed through my head, and I knew it was the only chance I had. I held one hand up, beseeching. “Help me, Miles. I can’t get up by myself.”

He hesitated for so long, I thought he might refuse. Then, slowly, he reached for my hand.

I grabbed him by the upper arm and, using every bit of strength I had, pulled him toward me. He staggered, lost his balance, and landed on his knees beside me. While I still had the advantage, I wrapped my hands around his head and pressed on his eyes, hard, with my thumbs.

He reared back, dragging me upright as he went. In the distance, I caught the flash of light through the trees, and I knew help was on its way. Just a few minutes more. I had to hang on until them.

I pressed harder, refusing to let myself worry about the damage I might be doing. Let him sue me. That was the least of my worries.

Again he jerked back sharply, and this time I let go. Roaring in pain, he covered his eyes with his hands. I was too desperate to care about how much I hurt, and somehow managed to find solid footing with my good leg. My other leg was on fire as I pushed to my feet and hopped back to the truck. My face throbbed, but I got myself into the truck’s cab and locked both doors. Exhausted, weeping with relief and fear, I leaned onto the horn and sent up my distress signal again.

As the horn blared into the silent winter night, my heart ached for Savannah. I’d suffered a horrible betrayal at my ex-husband’s hands, but it didn’t even begin to compare to what Miles had done to Savannah. She had to have known that Miles wanted her dead. Even if only for a minute, the hurt must have been more intense than anything I could imagine.

Even Savannah had deserved better than that.

A week later, I sat behind a white-clothed table
in the second-floor meeting room at Divinity. Wyatt, who had emerged from the forest that night just in time to see his truck and his baby sister disappearing around the bend, had carted me upstairs for the contest. Jawarski was there to make sure I got to my apartment when the judging was all over.

He caught me watching him, and concern creased his face. “You okay?”

Nearly dying can make even the most stoic kind of woman get a little emotional. I blinked rapidly, nodded, and readjusted my leg on its cushion of pillows. I’d only been wearing it a few days, but the leg brace the doctor had prescribed was driving me crazy. “I’m fine, just annoyed that I have to sit here, that’s all.”

Jawarski grinned and pulled up a chair so he could sit beside me. “Keep this in mind next time there’s a murderer running loose in Paradise.”

Like this was all
my
fault. “How ‘bout you answer the phone next time there’s a murderer running loose in Paradise?”

His smile faded, and his expression grew serious. “Don’t do anything like this again, Abby. It’s too dangerous.”

It was only about the hundredth time he’d said it, but I kind of liked the look on his face, so I nodded agreeably. “Deal.” And I meant it. Really I did.

We fell silent and watched the activity around us for a few minutes. Karen, back on her medication and back at work, at least until my leg was better, was running the show with quiet efficiency. We still had issues to work out, but they were out in the open now, and I figured that would make it easier to find a resolution. I wouldn’t be happy until she’d come back permanently, and I think she knew it.

Evie Rice, whose first-place win on the second night of competition hadn’t surprised anybody, stood a few feet away, watching intently while Meena Driggs delivered her egg nog fudge to the judging table. I’d tasted Meena’s fudge earlier, and I had a feeling Evie had some competition. I just prayed that we wouldn’t have a repeat performance from the first night. A cook-off between the two contestants I could handle. I wasn’t sure I’d survive another round of hysterics.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that we’d been here for the first night’s judging of the contest, and for Savannah I guess it had been. I hadn’t always liked her, but no one deserved to die simply because she’d stumbled across the truth.

It had taken a few days, but once Jawarski and the other investigators had started tugging at the threads of Miles Horne’s life, they’d unraveled a whole nest of lies. In fact, his
entire
adult life had been one lie after another, from the Harvard education right down to the job he’d landed in New York.

How he’d faked the credentials well enough to pull that one off was beyond me, but he’d done it. I guess he’d had lots of practice. He’d been scamming people since he graduated from high school—maybe even before that. The police were still unraveling who knew what and when they knew it, but everyone connected to him seemed to be shocked and outraged. I wasn’t sure we’d ever know the whole truth.

Even Savannah hadn’t suspected the truth until a chance encounter with someone from Miles’s past had opened her eyes. That’s all any of us really knew at this point. Her biggest mistake had been in confronting her husband instead of going to the police.

Maybe she thought she owed him something, even if he had lied to her since the day they met. Love can make fools out of anybody, I guess.

Speaking of foolish hearts, mine thumped around a little when Jawarski reached past me for a Rocky Road Drop. He popped it into his mouth, closed his eyes, and moaned with pleasure. “These are great,” he said. “Better than the ones my mom used to make.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You have a mother?”

The question dropped out of my mouth before I could stop it. I was all ready for him to give me that look and clam up the way he does, but one eye opened, and he gave me one of those lopsided grins of his. “Yeah I do, believe it or not.”

“Is she still alive?”

He nodded slowly and looked away. Another silence fell between us, but this one didn’t last as long. “Still alive.”

“Does she live around here?”

He shook his head, still without looking at me. “She’s in Montana. Lives about ten miles from my kids.”

I nearly choked on my tongue. “You have kids?”

“Two.” He did look at me then, and the question in his eyes touched something I still wasn’t completely sure I wanted touched. “They’re fourteen and twelve.”

It was my turn to sit silently, but that didn’t last long either. I wasn’t sure what this meant for us. Maybe nothing. “Are they boys or girls?”

“One of each. Ridge is the oldest. Cheyenne’s in seventh grade.” His gaze dropped to his fingertips, and he scraped at something on one finger. “I don’t see them often enough, but I talk to them twice a week.”

“Oh.” A million different things were tumbling around in my head, but I wasn’t sure how to react or what to say. He had kids. That meant he probably had an ex-wife out there somewhere. At least, I
hoped
she was an ex.

After a long time, I reached across the space between us and put my hand on his. He turned his over and laced his fingers through mine. Yeah, I wanted to know more, but I decided not to push. I’d asked, and even though it had taken a while, he’d answered.

For tonight, that was enough.

Divine Saltwater Taffy

Yields: 1 pound

 

Using the butter, grease a square 8 x 8 x 2-inch pan.

In a saucepan, mix together the sugar, corn syrup, salt, water, and cornstarch. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally until a candy thermometer reads 256°.

Remove from heat at once.

Stir in desired color and flavoring and pour into buttered pan. Allow candy to cool.

Pull taffy until it is light in color and stiff.

Pull into 2-inch strips, cut, and wrap in waxed paper.

Cappuccino Divinity

Yields: 20 Servings (1½ pounds)

 

In a 2-quart saucepan, stir together the sugar, Karo syrup, water, and salt. Stirring constantly, bring to a boil over medium heat.

Reduce heat.

Stop stirring and cook to soft ball stage (candy thermometer registers 248°). Just before the candy temperature reaches 248°, beat egg whites in a large bowl with mixer at high speed. Beat until stiff peaks form. Keeping mixer at high speed, slowly pour about one-half of the hot mixture over the egg whites.

Cook remaining syrup to 272°, or until a small amount of mixture when dropped into very cold water separates into threads that are hard but not brittle.