EXCERPT #1
Almost to Coldspell and full of misgivings, Laura couldn’t shake her feeling of dread for Hattie’s sake. Why did she allow Nicole to steer her away? She should’ve stayed with her mentor and not bowed to the will of a neighbor she knew nothing about.

Laura had to drive back to Stenburg no matter how late it was.

She glanced at the clock on her dash, beyond caring what anyone thought about an after-midnight visitation. Even if she had to nap in her car to make the trip back to Coldspell, she wouldn’t rest until she knew that Hattie was okay.

An inky blanket hung over the property when she arrived. Not a single porch or barn light shone from the Stenburg Estate. Living this far out from town, Laura couldn’t imagine why a dusk-to-dawn light hadn’t been installed. She’d mention it to her dad. Her headlights beamed on the front door and bay window, bright enough to wake someone sleeping on the living room couch. Laura left her Subaru in park with the engine running and jogged up the steps. She knocked quietly on the huge glass pane. If she could rouse the neighbor without waking Hattie, better yet.

A dog barked in the distance. The only sound for miles. Moon Pie should’ve been with Hattie, but Laura picked up no sound from inside the estate house. Surely, Hattie’s pet would notice visitors.

The barking continued, perhaps from a nearby shelter for stray animals.

Laura cupped her hands and peered through the window but was unable to see past the dark glass cloaked by heavy curtains. She knocked more firmly with her knuckles. Other than raising goosebumps on her arms, no one inside rose to open the front door.

Nicole had lied about staying with Hattie and sleeping on the couch.

Laura’s heartbeat quickened as she pounded on the massive door, calling for Nicole or Hattie to let her inside. No human or pet could sleep through the noise she was making. She tried the door and found it as it should’ve been. Locked.

“Hattie! Is anyone in there?” Laura kicked her boot at the door in frustration.

She checked the kitchen and bedroom windows that were too high for her to climb through even if she were lucky enough to find one unlocked. She ran along the wraparound porch, calling for Hattie—her car’s right headlight spotting the way from porch to grass.

The further she went toward the back of the house, the louder the barking became.

Hattie had mentioned that Moon Pie stayed with Jordan in the guesthouse.

Wake Jordan. He’ll find Hattie.

Laura ran to her car and drove behind the building to where the guesthouse connected to the estate via a concrete breezeway. There, she found a sharp-eared corgi with her nose pressed against the window, scratching with her claws and raising all kinds of ruckus.

Where is Jordan, and why is Moon Pie alone in the guesthouse? Laura’s tingling senses told her the scene was all wrong.

She slammed the Subaru into park and faced the dog from the other side of the narrow four-foot window near the guesthouse’s entrance. Laura tried to open the locked metal door by the knob, then gave a strong shove with her shoulder. All she received for her trouble was a sore arm. When she made eye contact with Moon Pie once more, the dog wriggled its rump, whining and whimpering. Crouching to Moon Pie’s level, she placed the flat of her hand on the outside screen, trying to soothe the irate dog with her words. A small gap below the sash showed her that Jordan had left the window slightly ajar for the dog.

Laura caught a whiff of something she couldn’t describe.

Moon Pie had her red nylon lead attached at the collar, as if she’d been dropped inside abruptly.

“Sweetie, I’m coming in.” Laura removed a driving glove, pried the screen from its runners with her nails, and threw it aside.

Moon Pie stuck her nose through the opening and sniffed.

“Don’t bite my fingers.” She replaced the glove on her hand and with all her might, lifted the sash from the gap, sliding it up and open. Enough to squeeze her small frame through sideways.

Moon Pie jumped out then came back to follow her inside, barking madly at her feet. Her boot caught the dog, throwing Laura headlong into the wall. “Honey, quiet. I can’t think.” Laura groped the painted surface with her palm until she found a light switch and flipped it on. 

She stood in a bedroom.

Someone lay still on the mattress. Deathly pale.

A crawling sensation moved up her spine. Jordan. As she walked closer to the person, she realized the body was that of a female, partially obscured by a bed pillow. Laura took several labored breaths and sped around the footboard—watching for the rise and fall of the woman’s chest.

A fleeting thought of Nicole went through her mind, quickly dashed by the person’s hair color. Bitterness filled Laura’s mouth and she swallowed hard. Her worst fears had come true.

 

EXCERPT #2
“Sorry, there’s no dessert tonight. My beautiful cake landed in a heap on the floor.” Laura had grudgingly held off that announcement for as long as possible. “I had to entice the dog away from it. She wanted to lick the tile clean in the worst way.” She chuckled at her dad.

Connie stopped chewing and laid her fork down. She gawked at the remaining slice of beef on her plate, lifting it gingerly with her knife as if scanning the main course for debris. “Please tell me the meat didn’t hit the floor as well.” Connie soured her lips.

“I beg your pardon? If it had, I wouldn’t have served it.” Laura’s face burned from Connie’s crass remark.

Her dad swiped his mouth with the napkin and set it gently beside his plate. “Laura’s skilled at meal preparation. Highly trained, in fact. An excellent dinner, honey. Thank you.” He pushed his chair out, scraping the legs along the floor, and smacked his belly. “Won’t hurt the old man to miss a dessert once in a while.” He grinned at Laura to break off some of the icicles hanging from Connie’s side of the table.

As if on cue, Connie also set her napkin aside. “You’re the only man I know who can eat sweets every day and not gain a pound. Your father is amazing, isn’t he? I don’t know how he does it.”

“It must be Duska’s fried pies. They’re like an elixir that keeps him young.” Laura’s crooked smile at their private joke earned a nod from her dad.

Her statement had the opposite reaction on Connie, who’d swallowed down the wrong pipe and grabbed her water glass to quiet the coughing fit ravaging her throat.

“Are you okay?” he asked as she drained her glass.

Laura poured more lemon water into her guest’s glass, doing her level best to hide the amusement about to burst forth. Karma can be a nasty thing to those insulting the cook.

Connie crinkled her nose as if she’d smelled a skunk on her plate. “Hardly what I’d call an elixir, unless you like clogged arteries, heart failure, and an early trip to the grave.”

Laura sat in stunned disbelief, but only for a second. “Handcrafted pastry and desserts turn a humdrum meal into a masterpiece. They’re not a death sentence, Miss Holloway.”

Her dad turned away and stared at the wall. His thoughts were his own, but Laura had a good idea where his mind had gone: to his late wife, and their most recent loss with Hattie.

Connie’s insensitive comments, while they were still grieving, had fallen out of her mouth too easily. A touchy-feely palm over her father’s hand bothered Laura to no end. Did she not hear about Hattie? It was possible her dad hadn’t mentioned her death.

“Have you missed the fliers about the Novak Bakery?” Connie asked Laura. “They’re everywhere.”

“I’ve been out of town and too preoccupied to read propaganda. I wouldn’t put too much stock in random gossip, Connie. People post reckless garbage these days.” The fliers in question had to be those Duska had seen and removed.

“Propaganda, you say? Hardly what I’d call it.” Tiny wrinkles plagued Connie’s upper lip. “Everyone I know is afraid to go in that Amazon woman’s shop. How tall is she, anyway?”

Her sneering was uncomfortable for Laura to look at, so she studied her plate instead. “Duska’s pies and kolaches are excellent and Coldspell’s lucky to have her. Who thinks she’s too tall?” Laura sat up straighter in her chair with her head held high.

“Her food is sending people to the emergency room. Food poisoning, I hear. And you shouldn’t eat there either, Zane, if you care about your health.”

Laura’s composure began to slip the longer they all sat together, and she had to listen to small-minded notions from someone who hadn’t even been inside the bakery, to her knowledge. Drawing an uneasy breath, Laura willed her mouth to stay shut—which was a huge ask around an insensitive woman who took pleasure in hurling insults at others. Laura could forgive a harsh word from most strangers, but she’d reached her limit with her dad’s opinionated ladyfriend.

“Yikes,” Laura whispered in her dad’s direction as their eyes made contact.

Connie stood up and bussed her utensils and glass to the sink, clattering the silverware.

Her dad outwardly cringed, closing one eye against the noise. “Can we help you with the dishes, honey?” he asked, embarrassment tinging his somber face. A signal that dinner had come to an end and he planned to leave—taking the mouthpiece with him.

“I’ve got it, Dad. Enjoy the rest of your… uh… evening.”

“Thanks again for asking us over, Laura. It’s nice to finally see the beautiful woman you’ve become.” Connie wiped her fingertips along the white dishtowel hanging from the oven door handle, streaking it with sherry gravy. She leaned toward Laura’s ear and whispered, “You might want to get out the china next time, dear.”

An underhanded insult.

Laura balled a hand into a fist and clamped her teeth together.

“I’ll wait for you in the car, Zanie.” Connie touched her dad’s shoulder familiarly and sped outdoors.

 

EXCERPT #3
Laura waited on the carpeted landing of the second floor for Brent to reach the top step. The acrid paint odor was overpowering, suggesting the source was nearby.

Then she spotted it.

Down the hall, the door had gained a new paint scheme since Hattie’s death. A garish red heart stood out from the other rooms.

She flattened, making herself smaller against the adjacent wall, her eyes darting right then left. Her mouth went dry as she tried to think of a reason why anyone would paint the door.

“Be careful, Brent. Someone’s been up here too. Check the third door down. Didn’t detectives see this?” Laura’s steps creaked beneath her boots as she set out for the heart door among others painted white like most of the staircase. She looked closely at the semi-gloss enamel and swiveled toward the attorney.

“What in blazes…” Brent leaned closer to the door and inhaled. “Definitely recent. Stay here while I open the other rooms. This one is meant to stand out for a purpose.”

“Don’t leave prints. Remember what you promised Adams. See if there’s a towel in the guest bath. Surely there’s one up here.” She shivered, folding her hands, standing by for Brent to carefully open the first two rooms to the left of the stairs.

The upper floor had a feel unlike downstairs. Her potential home must’ve been under surveillance by a person who had left a message behind. Investigators would’ve kept them out of the house if they’d uncovered a recently painted symbol like the heart.

Nicole? Jordan? How about Lucas, or someone she hadn’t met?

Brent returned with his report. “Each room has a bed, two nightstands, a dressing table, and dresser with huge mirrors. Typical guest rooms. I’m guessing all Victorian-era bedroom sets but I’m no expert. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the furniture is original to the house. It looks it. Blue Staffordshire platters, covered bowls, and one out-of-place tall couple in historic dress on horseback are scattered across the dressers. Several more couples are in military dress. Everything appears to be in mint condition.”

“A mixture of porcelain from an eclectic collector. Were there any obvious bare spots marked by dust like downstairs?”

“Not that I could tell. Whoever removed the first-floor pieces might not have had time to pilfer from the upstairs yet. A good call on your part to change locks.” He nodded. “Wish we’d done it sooner, assuming the other items were stolen. Do you want me to check more rooms before we step behind the giant heart? There are three more doors at the other end of the hall.” Brent’s expectant eyes fell solidly on her, as he waited to hear what their next move would be.

She hadn’t noticed his darker tan and the tiny laugh lines before. Brent must have taken his glasses off while driving his Maserati around Austin. The color gave him a natural all-American-boy look.

“I’m dying to see what’s behind here.” Laura swiveled toward noises downstairs.

“Anybody here?” A throat clearing came before the doorbell rang.

She surmised the person thought about ringing after he’d already walked inside. The shrill bell stopped her from going any further upstairs and dread soon followed.

She recognized Detective Adams’s irritating tone.

“Hello. Miss Harris? Attorney Hill? Are you in the house? Sheriff’s department.”