Stealing Taffy

  She shook her head.

  “I do love him, right now, right this minute.” Her eyes got all sparkly. “And even if I haven’t figured it all out yet, I can love him to the best of my ability and learn as I go. Don’t you think?”

  Fern saw how goofy-happy Tanyalee was, and she was happy for her. But she’d never let on, so she scowled. “Uh, does he know how crazy you are? Because it would only be fair to tell the poor guy what he’s getting into.”

  Tanyalee just laughed and laughed as she tossed her phone into her purse and set it back on the front seat. “I do believe we have touched upon that topic, thankyousoverymuch. Now, let’s get these cupcakes into that nice cool kitchen so we can be on our way.”

  “On your way, you mean.” Fern grumbled as she took her next long bakery box, then turned to head up the sidewalk to the back entrance. “You’re going out on a fancy date with Mr. Beef and I’m goin’ home to watch Nick at Nite with Gladys, ’cause you know she loves her some Jed Clampett.”

  Because Fern was concentrating on not stumbling, she didn’t see the kitchen door fly open until it hit the bakery box and nearly knocked her ass-over-rain-barrel. The cardboard crumpled like tissue paper and the cupcakes scattered, some rolling away, some splattering frosting-side down on the cement sidewalk.

  Fern got ready to open a can of whoop-ass on the idiot who just ruined Cupcake Wednesday. She looked up.

  And the bottom dropped out of her nice, new life.

  * * *

  Tanyalee turned just in time to see Fern’s cupcakes spilling onto the pavement, the girl’s face frozen in horror.

  Wainright Miller loomed over her, brushing at a smear of icing on his crisp short-sleeved shirt, his expression one of angry disdain.

  “Oh, my gracious,” Tanyalee breathed, seeing that there had been some sort of collision. She set her box back onto the floor of the trunk, then teetered on her high heels down the sidewalk toward them.

  Miller glared down at Fern, who suddenly looked quite small and vulnerable in his shadow. “Do you mind getting out of the way?” He was about to push her aside when Tanyalee reached Fern.

  “What is this all about?” she demanded.

  The only answer she got was Fern’s panicked breathing, followed by a particularly weighty bit of cussing.

  “Oh, shee-it,” Fern said, staring up at Mr. Miller with a face as pale as milk. “It’s the Fat Man!”

  Miller froze. His eyes narrowed. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  Tanyalee was horrified. She reached out to take Fern’s hand and tug her away. “Fern Bisbee! What manners! Oh, my goodness, Mr. Miller, I do apologize for her, but your choice of language was completely—” Miller shoved Taffy. Her fabulous but useless shoes skidded on the cupcake-smeared back step. She dropped Fern’s hand as she tried to catch her balance.

  Miller stalked toward Fern, his upper lip curled in fury.

  Though Fern tried to slink away, he moved in on her, snatching the front of her blouse in his fist and yanking her forward. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I…” Fern tried to wriggle free, her eyes wide in terror. “I ain’t nobody, mister. Let me go! Now!”

  Miller hovered over her, scowling, like he was trying to place her. “Bisbee.” His eyes widened. “Bisbee? That loser meth cook was your father?”

  Fern shook her head in a panic. “No! Let me go!”

  Tanyalee regained her footing in time to lunge at Miller, grabbing his shirtsleeve. “You stop that right now, Mr. Miller, or I’ll call the police. I have no idea what in heaven’s name is going on here but—”

  “Would you shut the fuck up?” Simultaneously, Miller yanked Fern by the arm, spun her around, and slapped his hand over her mouth, muffling her screams, while clutching Tanyalee by the throat and squeezing. His cruel fingers hooked into her signature strand of pearls as he pressed her backward. Tanyalee felt the knotted silk break and slide away and a suffocating pain shoot through her throat. Despite the pain she knew what she had to do: get Fern away from this madman.

  Any hope for that was immediately dashed as Wainright Miller forced them both toward the parked Cadillac. Tanyalee had a brief thought of trying to grab her phone from the front seat but she never had a chance, as he tossed Fern into the trunk with one hand, then swiftly hoisted Tanyalee in on top of her, ending Fern’s attempt to scramble out of the vehicle.

  Before they could untangle themselves, Miller pushed against the heavy trunk lid, not at all concerned about any limbs that might be in harm’s way. The trunk slammed shut with a final-sounding thud, leaving them in darkness.

  * * *

  “Tanyalee?”

  Fern’s tiny voice was nearly drowned out by the noise of Miller gunning the Cadillac’s engine and screeching out of the Cherokee Pines parking lot. Tanyalee reached behind her to find Fern’s sticky little hand, determined to keep her calm.

  “Now, don’t you worry, Fern. I’ll find a way to get us … I’m going to make sure we…” The sound of her own panicked laughter raced through her mind. Exactly what do you plan to do, Tanyalee Marie Newberry? You can’t flirt your way out of this one!

  “I’m so sorry, Tanyalee.” Fern sniffled softly. The only other time Tanyalee had heard Fern make that particular noise was at the hair salon, when she didn’t feel worthy of a cut and blow-dry. Every other minute Tanyalee had spent in her company, Fern had pretended she was as strong as hillbilly-forged iron wrapped in steel.

  “This is all my fault,” she whimpered.

  “I really don’t see how that is possible.” Tanyalee was determined to keep the drama to a minimum. “Now, just days ago I could have easily blamed this on my sister’s husband, Mr. High-and-Mighty J.J. DeCourcy, who was hell-bent on my unhappiness. But with recent developments being what they are, I’d have to say this is the work of my no-good, pistol-wavin’ ex-fiancé, Wim Wimbley! I should have known he’d do somethin’ like this! He’s tryin’ to keep me from testifyin’ at his trial—”

  “Tanyalee—”

  “But this is what I get for making amends with that unrepentant, connivin’ jailbird—”

  “Tanyalee—”

  “Why, he’s just plain vindictive, that’s what! Did I ever tell you how he shredded my credit cards into itty-bitty confetti and then left a pile of plastic right there on my Liberty Rose pink bathmat for me to find when—”

  “Tanya! Frickin’! Lee!”

  Tanyalee took a deep breath and composed herself. “Just because you and I are trapped in the trunk of a speeding Cadillac driven by a socially prominent lunatic is no reason to be rude, Miss Bisbee!”

  “Okay. So what you’re going to do right now is take a deep breath and shut up for three seconds, because there is something very important you need to know about this here situation.”

  Tanyalee blinked rapidly and fluttered her hands at her eyes in the dark, trying to dry them before her mascara ran. A racing heart and an undeniable fear of impending death was no excuse for allowing herself to look like a darned raccoon. “Fine,” she said. “I’m listening.”

  The Cadillac swerved then, slinging them against each other. Tanyalee threw out a hand to brace herself against the carpeted trunk lid and pushed with all her might.

  “Ow,” Fern said, her voice muffled. “Your bony ass is in my stomach.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake!” Tanyalee did a little exploring with her hands when the car settled once more onto the straightaway. The Cadillac’s trunk was cavernous, more than big enough for the two of them along with the last couple boxes of cupcakes, now a little worse for wear. Both long boxes were a bit flattened in the middle, so Tanyalee pushed them toward the rear bumper before the icing squished out everywhere. It was bad enough being kidnapped. Must she be covered with frosting, to boot?

  Tanyalee found that if she twisted her hips just so, she could face the deeper part of the trunk where Fern lay. She braced her hands on one side of the trunk and her peep-toe pumps on the other. For the first time ever,
she found herself grateful that Aunt Viv hadn’t purchased a Japanese subcompact back in 1976, since there was plenty of room in this land yacht’s trunk for two abductees. At least Fern wouldn’t get squashed at every turn. For all her toughness, she was built like a baby bird.

  “Fine. Say your piece.” Tanyalee sighed. “Only I really do think this may be—”

  “It’s about the meth lab!”

  Tanyalee blinked. “Oh, sweetie, no. Dante said that was all tied up. It’s a closed case.”

  “I lied to him, all right? There was a man working with Spivey and I saw him out there once. He didn’t see me. And I never heard anybody call him by his real name, just the ‘Fat Man.’”

  “Oh.”

  “He might be skinnier now, but the guy drivin’ your car is the man Dante is lookin’ for.”

  “Gracious.”

  “I thought he’d been arrested with everyone else until Dante started asking me questions about him at the bowl-a-thon.”

  “Go on.”

  “He asked me if I’d ever seen anyone who went by that name and I lied! I just … I thought it’d be better if I didn’t say nothin’, that it’d be easier if I just pretended it was over!”

  Tanyalee gasped. “So you lied to an officer of the law?”

  As soon as the words left her lips, Tanyalee imagined Fern rolling her eyes.

  “Oh, right.” Fern snorted. “Like you haven’t had days where you lied five times before breakfast.”

  “Well, I suppose I might deserve that, but I have changed my ways and I advise you to do the same. Now, why don’t you get to the point of your story?”

  Fern let out a long-suffering sigh. “I just told you the point! I recognized a bad guy. The bad guy knows I recognized him. The bad guy grabbed us and threw us in a trunk. He’s gonna kill me because I can identify him and he’s gonna kill you because you happened to be with me! Get the picture now?”

  Tanyalee swallowed. “That clears things up considerably. Thank you.” The big car swerved again. This time the force did not slam them up against each other, but the road had clearly deteriorated. Though they had to raise their voices to hear each other over the rattling and squeaking of the old car on a rutted lane, they could hear Tanyalee’s phone ringing just fine—for the fifth time.

  “Tell me what you want…”

  On top of everything else, Tanyalee was breaking her promise to Dante that she would always answer her phone. Disappointing him was last thing she ever wanted to do.

  They had to have reached the hill country by then. Noting the drastically reduced speed, Tanyalee suspected they were so far out in the backwoods that Miller wasn’t worried about anyone seeing what he was up to. And that terrified her.

  “I wish I could reach my cellphone,” she said. “Dante would be here quick as a lick.”

  Fern grunted. “I wish I had my daddy’s thirty-eight. Or my old slingshot or even a jagged piece of glass. Too bad there ain’t no such thing as Death by Cupcake.”

  Tanyalee bit her lip, thinking, staring into the dark, wondering what a truly determined and resourceful woman might do in this type of situation. She smiled. “Fern, we need to go out of the box.”

  “Oh, hell, no. Not the box again.”

  “I mean it literally this time, sweetheart. I have a plan.”

  Chapter 21

  The final task force meeting had taken only three hours, but that was an hour more than Dante had expected, and he was late to meet Tanyalee.

  Westley sat to his left at the Cataloochee County Sheriff’s Department conference table, shooting sideways glances at him and squinting each time Dante tapped his foot in impatience or made a stealth text or call from the cell phone in his lap.

  Something was wrong. Dante could feel it. He’d been calling to tell her he’d be late, but she hadn’t answered.

  Tanyalee had promised him. She said she understood that his mind was programmed to think the worst. So why wasn’t she picking up?

  He checked the time. Forty minutes had passed since he’d stepped out of the meeting to call Tanyalee, who was with Fern delivering cupcakes to Cherokee Pines. Was she now waiting for him in the bakery parking lot as planned, her phone battery dead? Or had something happened to Tanyalee on the way back from Cherokee Pines? What if she were hurt and couldn’t get to her phone? And where was Fern?

  “Agent Cabrera?”

  Dante glanced up, feigning patience. He despised meetings that rehashed the same points again and again. The task force had a detailed plan in place. They had a minute-by-minute timetable and everyone had their assignments. He’d done hundreds of these raids and was ready to go. So why couldn’t they just wrap it up?

  Okay, yes. Spivey’s last two men got whacked in the Gaston County lockup just that morning, but it was hardly a shock since inside jobs were Ramirez’s calling card. The primary focus of this task force at the moment was the Possum Ridge bust. Afterward, they could assist with the murder investigations.

  O’Connor scowled at him, and Dante stopped his internal bitch-and-moan session, realizing that someone had just used the words “the Fat Man” in a sentence.

  “Yes,” he said. “I did get the opportunity to interview Fern Bisbee, the juvenile who’d lived at the Spivey compound with her father.” Dante looked around the room to make sure he was answering the right question. It seemed he was. “Miss Bisbee said she’d never heard the name before, and never encountered anyone who might fit the description.”

  “So you’re wrong after all. There’s no local acting as go-between for the cartels.” The deputy U.S. Marshal smiled at Dante, clearly pleased with himself. “Seems your instincts aren’t so impeccable after all, Agent Cabrera.”

  The jab wasn’t worth a response. O’Connor, however, stared at Dante with the oddest expression.

  Turner cleared his throat. “Maybe the Fat Man’s still at large.” Most of the room cracked up, which embarrassed Turner. “Maybe he’s still out there. That’s what I meant to say.”

  Dante stared at his phone. Another five minutes had passed. His instincts were not wrong about this kind of shit. Ever. Like Turner said, the Fat Man was still out there. He was sure of it.

  “Be right back.” He jumped from his chair and slipped into the hallway. Candy answered in two rings and told him that no, the Cadillac was not in the lot and she hadn’t seen or spoken to Tanyalee. Gladys picked up in six rings, and said no, Fern had not come home yet. He called the Cherokee Pines main number, waited ten rings, only to get a recording.

  Dante barged back into the conference room and immediately blurted out a question to Turner. “You got any active MVAs with injuries right now?”

  Turner looked surprised, but shook his head to the contrary. “I always get notified when there’s a motor vehicle accident, here or in any of the surrounding counties. Why?”

  His instincts. They were screaming.

  O’Connor stood up at the table. “Can we have five minutes?”

  Before anyone could voice their opposition, she motioned for Dante and Westley to follow her, which they did—all the way down the hall and into the ladies’ room.

  Westley glanced around nervously.

  “Get over it,” O’Connor snapped. She leaned against the sink, crossed her arms over her chest and flashed her eyes at Dante. “What the hell is up with you, Cabrera? You’ve gone all ADD on me today! And what’s with the flesh wound?”

  “Oh.” Dante touched the bloody spot on his chin he’d covered with a tiny Band-Aid. “Cut myself shaving this morning.”

  “Did your brains fall out of the bottom of your chin?”

  Dante took a breath before he answered O’Connor. He liked her. She was sharp, experienced, and down-to-earth. But he had no idea how she’d respond to something as woo-woo as what was about to come out of his mouth.

  “I’ve got a really bad feeling.”

  She straightened. “About what?”

  “About who—Fern Bisbee and Tanyalee Newberry.”

/>   He expected some sort of sarcastic retort, but what he got instead was a level, interested gaze. “Go on.”

  Dante glanced from O’Connor to Westley, who seemed to still be disturbed about being in the ladies’ room.

  “Look. I don’t know how to put this into words that will make any sense. It’s just a real strong feeling.”

  “Fine with me,” O’Connor said. “Tell me about it.”

  “I am concerned for Taffy—uh, Miss Newberry, along with Miss Bisbee, because they were delivering cupcakes to the old folks home approximately forty minutes ago and now I can’t locate them. Tanyalee was supposed to meet me at the bakery a half hour ago, but her car is not there and she hasn’t answered when I’ve called to tell her I’m running late.”

  “Maybe she’s just pissed at you,” Wes said.

  Dante shook his head and kept going. “Fern hasn’t made it home. I got the recording at Cherokee Pines. There are no accident reports. So where are they?”

  O’Connor frowned.

  “I know three things to be true: first, the Fat Man is out there. Second, something’s happened to Fern and Tanyalee. And last, I’m fairly sure Fern lied to me about what she knows—not sure what or how important it is, but she lied about something. And I realize it’s a leap, but I think that somehow, everything’s connected.”

  O’Connor sighed. “You’ve been right before, Cabrera, but I pray that’s not the case today. Go to Cherokee Pines. If you find them playing checkers with the residents, then great. If not, we’re right behind you.”

  Dante headed out the ladies’ room door but Wes stopped him. “Want backup?”

  He shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll call you if it’s necessary.”

  It was a ten-minute drive from the Cataloochee County Sheriff’s Department to Cherokee Pines, and yet, by the time Dante reached the assisted living facility, he’d journeyed to an unknown land.

  He was in love with Tanyalee, and more than that, he just plain loved her. He was sure the instant he suspected she was in harm’s way. The thought of something happening to Tanyalee left him dead inside, his heart frozen. It was true that Dante had been into many women over the years and truly cared for a few, but never like this.