Chapter 1

The warm morning sunshine spilled into the bakery and glinted off the glass of the display case at the front of Auntie Clem’s Bakery. Erin studied it to make sure that everything was in order. And of course, it was. She and Vic had been doing this long enough to know how to arrange everything quickly and efficiently before opening the store in the morning. The baked goods she loved filled the case: muffins with fat blueberries bursting out of the tops, breads sprinkled with sugar, cinnamon rolls glinting with icing. The smells of yeast and spices perfumed the air. Erin walked through the front of the shop to turn the sign to Open and unlock the door. A few morning customers were already waiting outside with their piping hot coffees, ready to pick up a morning muffin or the baked goods they would require for the day or the week.

“Good morning!” Erin greeted cheerfully.

It was still early for the rest of the townspeople, so she didn’t get enthusiastic smiles in response. A few muted greetings. People would be more cheerful once they finished waking up.

Vic stood behind the counter, her long blond hair pinned back in a bun and hidden by her baker’s cap. Erin’s young transgender employee always succeeded in looking more polished five minutes after rolling out of bed than Erin felt after an hour of preening and trying to pin her dark hair back so that no locks would escape. She never even reached the door without a few strands managing to spring free.

“What can I get y’all today?” Vic asked the ladies.

Mary Lou moved forward and made a few selections. Her baking for the week. Erin knew that things were tight for the Coxes. Mary Lou struggled to make ends meet. Her husband, Roger, had lost their life savings and house in a bad investment a few years previous and, since then, the family had experienced a number of serious setbacks. Roger had been hospitalized for most of the past year but was back home again, which was an extra burden on Mary Lou financially, as well as physically and emotionally. She had one teenage son still at home to help with Roger’s care, and health care workers that checked in a couple of times a day, but the lion’s share of making sure that he was kept calm and happy and didn’t wander still fell to her.

Erin wanted to offer Mary Lou more of the day-old baking they gave to needy families for free, but knew that she couldn’t say anything about it in front of the other ladies. Mary Lou knew she could come to the back of the store to pick up day-old privately, but she was a proud woman and would not accept Erin’s “charity” unless Erin managed to frame it as a favor to her, something that she couldn’t get away with very often.

Mary Lou smoothed her wrinkle-free pantsuit over her hips as she waited for Vic to package up her order and put it through at the till. Erin slipped behind Vic to take up her position behind the counter to help the next customer. She smiled at Mary Lou.

“How is everyone in your home today? Everyone okay?”

Mary Lou gave a brief nod. “Yes, fine, thank you, Erin. And you? Have you recovered from your…” Mary Lou trailed off and didn’t say “kidnapping” or “abduction.” She probably would have preferred something more generic, like “incident,” but she just let the sentence hang. Erin could fill it in as she liked.

“Oh, yes,” Erin told her cheerfully. “I’m just fine. Thanks to Joshua, I’m perfectly well.”

She kept a smile on her face, not letting Mary Lou see any cracks. Mary Lou didn’t need anything else on her plate to worry about. Her son, Joshua, was the one who had rescued Erin—or at least found her so that the police could rescue her—and Erin knew that she couldn’t say too much about what he had done. Mary Lou wanted to keep him safe. She didn’t want him running around into dangerous situations, rescuing people. Let the police do the footwork. Joshua needed to be in school, earning his high school diploma, rather than pursuing a career as an investigative journalist before he was even an adult.

But Joshua had other ideas about the matter. He would, Erin hoped, go back to school in the fall with Bella Prost and the other teens. Bella was one of Erin’s part-time employees and for months had been gently encouraging Joshua to return to school. Erin hoped she succeeded.

Mary Lou didn’t need anything else to worry about, least of all the increased anxiety and nightmares that had plagued Erin since her abduction. It wasn’t like she’d been the best sleeper before. It was a struggle to get the sleep that she needed to get to the bakery in the small hours of the morning in order to have the fresh breads and muffins ready to go when they opened.

“Now that the wedding is over, you can go back to normal,” Vic told Erin. “No more wedding cake. Until the next one.” She smiled cheekily. Melissa’s wedding cake had been a one-off, a favor for a friend. Erin had not planned on taking on more. But Vic thought it would make a good addition to the bakery’s offerings if Erin were willing to take them on.

Erin hadn’t decided yet. There had been too much else going on at the same time as decorating Melissa’s cake. She hadn’t yet sorted out her feelings and separated the negative emotions about certain other events from that of preparing Melissa’s beautiful wedding cake, which had ended up being crushed. At least Vic’s creativity had saved the day so that they had still been able to pull off the fairy-tale wedding reception that Melissa had dreamed of.

“Did you get a thank you card yet?” Lottie Sturm asked the others in the bakery. “I haven’t gotten a thank you for my wedding gift yet. When I was a young person, there were certain expectations…”

Erin actually had received a very nice thank you card from Melissa the week before, but she wasn’t about to announce the fact to Lottie, as it would just encourage her complaints that Melissa hadn’t sent her a card yet. Erin imagined that Melissa had sent notes to those who had helped with the reception before those who had given her a gift. It had been a big reception, so there would be a lot of cards to send out. Melissa was probably attacking the process in small batches. Lottie would receive hers in the mail in the next few days.

“It isn’t like it was a real wedding,” Cindy Prost contributed. Of course she would say something like that. Cindy was Bella’s mother, and her natural disposition was the opposite of her daughter’s cheerful, helpful attitude. Cindy was as negative as Bella was positive.

“Of course it was a real wedding,” Vic objected. “How can you say that?”

“Well, there was no groom at the reception, was there?” Cindy pointed out the obvious. Davis, Melissa’s new husband, was a guest of the Tennessee penal system and would not be going to any community events in the next few years.

“But they still got married,” Erin said, removing the bread and buns Lottie pointed to from the display case. “Davis doesn’t have to attend the reception for the marriage to be legal.”

“I’m not talking about legal.” Cindy wrinkled her nose. “And it isn’t like any of us witnessed the actual marriage, if there even was one. All you have is her own word on that.”

“Why would she pretend to be getting married?”

“Because she wants certain benefits of being married.” Lottie tittered. “But without all of the responsibilities of a wife.”

Erin opened her mouth to ask what benefits Lottie was talking about, then closed it again. As far as the church ladies were concerned, any extracurricular activities outside of marriage were a sin so, as far as Lottie was concerned, Melissa had to be married to Davis for her friendly visits to the prison to progress to conjugal visits. As far as Erin knew, Melissa probably believed this too, but they had never discussed it. Why would they? Such a thing was none of Erin’s business.

But it was, apparently, the business of the rest of the members of Melissa’s congregation in Bald Eagle Falls. Lottie and Cindy immediately fell into a spirited debate about whether Melissa was really married in the eyes of God if she wasn’t living with Davis and keeping house for him. There was more to marriage than just “visiting” with Davis at the prison.

Erin looked at Mary Lou to see what her opinion of the discussion was, but her mind appeared to be somewhere else. Erin wasn’t sure she had heard a word of Lottie’s and Cindy’s discussion. Erin wished that she could have blocked it out herself. She didn’t look at Vic. All she would need was Vic rolling her eyes expressively, and she would not be able to keep a straight face and would have to excuse herself to the kitchen to check on a batch of cookies.

“Did you hear about the waffle contest?” Erin asked in an effort to distract the ladies from the discussion about Melissa’s intimate affairs.

Lottie stopped talking and looked at Erin. There was silence in the bakery.

“What waffle contest?” Vic answered obligingly, even though she knew very well what waffle contest Erin was asking about.

“Yes, what contest?” Lottie asked. She didn’t actually look at all interested.

“There is a waffle recipe contest being run by The Kitchen Crew commercial bakeware company. The grand prize is a restaurant-sized waffle maker that makes twenty Belgian waffles in one go.”

“Twenty waffles?”

“Yes, it has the molds for twenty waffles. You fill them all with batter, close the lid, and wait five minutes for them to cook. Open the lid, and presto—twenty perfectly cooked waffles.”

“Are you planning to open a waffle house?” Cindy asked dryly. “Don’t you have enough to keep you going with the ownership of the bakery?”

“I think waffles would be a great offering for Auntie Clem’s. Fresh or frozen. Wouldn’t you rather buy waffles made right here in the bakery than those frozen ones at the grocery?” Vic asked. “Sometimes those have been sitting in the grocer’s freezer for months, and they’re just mass-produced and churned out. Nothing like a handcrafted waffle made from one of Erin’s special recipes.”

Cindy looked as if she didn’t know whether to agree or to find something nasty to say about Erin’s recipes. If she didn’t want to get thrown out of the bakery, she should probably keep her mouth shut.

“Have you already submitted a recipe to this contest?” she asked Erin stiffly. “I suppose you already have a dozen waffle recipes ready to go when you win that big waffle iron.”

“Not yet.” Erin handed Lottie’s order to Vic to ring up on the register. “You’re only allowed to enter one recipe into the contest, and I’m still trying to design the perfect gluten-free waffle recipe. It has to be just right if I want to have any hope of winning the waffle iron.”

“It’s never going to be exactly like a normal waffle.” Cindy was not afraid to rain on Erin’s parade. She never complained about the gluten-free baked goods she bought from Erin every week. They were delicious, and no one would ever have guessed they were gluten-free unless they were told so. But Cindy was right; they would never have the exact same flavor and consistency as a traditional Belgian waffle. A lot of kitchen chemistry and experimentation went into getting the recipe for each of the baked goods that Erin sold just right. So that they were not only as good as the regular gluten goods offered at the grocery store, but much better.

“I’m thinking of a pumpkin-based recipe,” Erin told them, ignoring Cindy’s jab and pretending she had asked in a nice way what Erin had in mind for the contest. “Pumpkin and spices, nutmeg and cinnamon. Nice and light and crisp, but with a hearty, rich flavor. Something that will remind people of Thanksgiving and Christmas and all of the good feelings surrounding those holidays and could be used for sweet or savory toppings.”

“Mmm. I love pumpkin spice,” Lottie confessed. “Anything pumpkin spice.” She beamed at Erin as if she were a child who had just pulled off a perfect math score. “Great idea!”

“That sounds really good,” Vic agreed. “Drizzled with a little syrup and topped with whipped cream…”

Someone else moaned in agreement. Erin smiled, pleased. Not everyone liked pumpkin spice or the idea of waffles that could be savory or sweet, so she was happy to hear the approvals of her plan.

“I hope you win,” Lottie said. “Then you can start including those waffles in your regular offerings.”

“What about chocolate chip waffles?” Cindy suggested. “Or blueberry.”

“If she had that big waffle iron, she could make any kind you liked.” Lottie licked her lips. “Blueberry or raspberry, cinnamon swirl, chocolate chip, white chocolate chip…”

“M&M,” Lottie took up the list of candies that could be added to the batter.

“M&M?” Cindy repeated, sounding shocked.

“If you can put them in cookies, why not in waffles? Or gumdrops!”

Chapter 2




The ladies finished their purchases and left, still discussing what additives were or were not appropriate for waffles.

When the early morning rush was finished and they were tidying up and preparing cookies and pizza pretzels, Vic looked over at Erin. “So, you don’t have any concerns about entering this waffle contest?”

“Concerns?” Erin shook her head. “No, what kind of concerns? It’s a big company, I’m sure it’s legit. And they say you retain the ownership of your recipe. So many of these contests are actually scams to get your recipes. You transfer rights to them whether you win or not. With this contest… the worst that could happen is that I develop a really good waffle recipe and don’t win the prize.”

“No, I was thinking more along the lines of… the other contests we’ve been involved with the last couple of years.”

There was the Fall Fair contest where Erin had entered a gluten-free stack cake. She had won the contest, which had been very exciting. The cruise that she had won, however, had been another story. Things had gone off the rails surprisingly quickly—if a boat could be said to go off the rails.

And then there was the CO2 contest she had judged, where entrants used CO2 to make fizzy drinks or ice cream. She should have known when she found Beryl in the walk-in freezer at the restaurant that things were not going to end well.

Erin grimaced back at Vic. “Well, I wasn’t thinking about any of that stuff. I’m sure that… everything will be just fine. Nothing will go wrong this time.”

* * *

Erin’s sweetheart, Terry Piper or, as Vic liked to call him, “Officer Handsome,” stopped by during the afternoon lull to refill his water bottle and get a gluten-free doggie biscuit for his furry partner, K9. He sat down for a moment while Erin went into the kitchen to fill the bottle, and smiled at her when she returned, a dimple appearing on his cheek. Boyishly handsome with a five o’clock shadow and a dimple. Erin’s heart did a flip when she looked at him. She handed him the water bottle, looking away and hoping he wouldn’t see her blush. It was rather silly that she should have such a physical reaction to his good looks when they were living together and the magic should have worn off. After all of the challenges that they had been through, they were like a comfortable old married couple.

Sometimes.

But there were still those sparks.

When she looked back at Terry, his eyes were dancing, and she knew he was thinking the same thing. He scratched K9’s ears and looked to see if he was finished eating his cookie.

“Well, buddy, I guess we’d better hit the pavement again.”

K9 got to his feet and shook himself off as if he were wet. Then he was ready for them to be on their way again.

* * *

Erin looked at the clock on the wall, frowning. It was nearly time to close, and she had expected Naomi to stop by with a couple of platters. Erin had taken treats over to The Book Nook for their book club meeting, and Naomi had said that she would return the platters when they were done. She was usually very good about it, but The Book Nook closed earlier than Auntie Clem’s Bakery on Tuesdays, and Erin was expecting her to have returned them by now.

“What’s up?” Vic asked, noticing Erin’s look at the clock.

“I think I’ll just pop over to The Book Nook to see if I can get those platters back.”

“They’re probably closed by now.”

“Maybe. I’ll just see. If they are, I guess I’ll get them back tomorrow.”

Vic nodded. The bakery was not busy; she could certainly handle things by herself for the five minutes it would take Erin to duck into The Book Nook and retrieve the platters. Even if she stopped to talk to Naomi for a few minutes.

Erin didn’t bother to take off her apron. It would only be a minute and she wouldn’t spill anything on it at the bookstore.

It was hot and muggy outside. The bright sun reflected off the colorful storefronts and awnings of Main Street, dazzling Erin. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to Tennessee summers. She should be able to handle them; after all, she had been born in Tennessee, but she had spent most of her years in Maine and other places in the north and had apparently lost any tolerance for the southern sun. She was sweating by the time she got into The Book Nook, which didn’t seem like it should be possible. The bells over the door jingled as she walked in, just like they did at Auntie Clem’s Bakery. A friendly little sound that announced the possibility of a sale. Erin looked around for Naomi but didn’t see her immediately.

That wasn’t unusual. With all of the shelves blocking her line of sight, Naomi could be a few feet away from her and Erin wouldn’t know it. Especially if she were crouching down to shelve a book. Erin walked farther into the store, looking around, peeking between bookshelves, expecting to see the store owner at any moment. The front door had been unlocked, so Naomi couldn’t have closed and gone home already.

“Naomi?”

Erin stood on her tiptoes and spun in a slow circle. “Are you here?”

She was probably taking a bag of trash out to the dumpster behind the building. Erin held herself still and waited. Naomi would only be gone from the store for a minute or two.

The seconds ticked by. Erin looked at her phone several times, but that didn’t help the time go any faster. She walked through the employee-only area in the back and pushed the crash bar on the back door to open it. She looked around, but Naomi wasn’t in the parking lot. Neither was her car. Had she really left and forgotten to lock the front door? Maybe there had been an emergency and she had been too distracted, forgetting everything she had to do before leaving. It was understandable. Things like that happened sometimes.

As Erin walked back toward the front door, trying to decide the right thing to do, she saw that the door to the stairs was cracked open. What if Naomi had fallen and broken her leg, or worse? What if she was lying hurt or unconscious in the basement in need of rescue? Erin opened the door farther. The hinges creaked noisily, making her wince and put her shoulders up as if to brace herself against what was coming next.

“Naomi? Naomi, are you down there?”

She thought she could hear someone moving around, but there was no answer.

“Naomi?”

Was she hurt and unable to answer? Or maybe she was moving around the basement stockroom with earbuds in and couldn’t hear Erin. Erin waited a few more seconds, each one ticking by with several beats of her thumping heart. She stepped down to the first step.

“Naomi?” she called again, as if being one step closer would make all the difference.

There were noises. The shuffling of shoes or books? Or someone lying on the floor writhing in distress? Erin tilted her head, trying to see into the basement before she was all the way down the stairs, but it was impossible to see through the walls and shelving units.

Erin tiptoed. She wasn’t sure why; she had called out to Naomi already and wanted her to hear her. She didn’t like intruding on Naomi’s “employees only” space. A stair creaked, and she winced. But she was down to the bottom of the stairs in a few more seconds. She looked around. She could say that she was looking for her platters. Or for Naomi. But she felt like she was trespassing. She hesitated, deciding whether to complete her search or just run upstairs and pretend that she hadn’t ever been down there.

But she was just there to make sure that Naomi was okay and to figure out what to do about locking the store up for her. It was the neighborly thing to do when you discovered that another store owner had accidentally left the place unlocked.

Erin didn’t call out again, but made a swift circuit. She could go through the stockroom once and then go upstairs, knowing she had checked everything out and done the right thing.

It was creepy. She loved libraries and bookstores, but the basement of The Book Nook seemed hollow and ominous. She was sure Naomi wasn’t down there. She wasn’t listening to her headphones and just hadn’t been able to hear Erin calling her. She wasn’t restocking shelves or unpacking a box of new books. There was no one there. Maybe she had misheard the sounds. She’d always had a vivid imagination.

There was a hint of cologne in the air, a smell that a man she had once known had worn. It sent a shiver over her. One of Naomi’s employees must wear the same scent. She didn’t know the part-timers very well, just Naomi herself.

Erin rounded the corner of the shelves and saw a crumpled form at the end of the aisle.