For about two and a half seconds, I toyed with the idea of going back to tell him about the guy with the limp. But why bother? He probably wouldn't believe me, and I didn't want to subject the boys to another disagreement between us. Besides, Elizabeth would be expecting us, and I wanted to get the boys home on time.

I kept driving, never dreaming that such a small choice would turn out to have such large consequences.

Chapter 10.

The next morning dawned gray and cold, a harbinger of the coming winter. The previous night's wind had stripped away the last remaining leaves from the trees, leaving the mountainsides looking stark and uninviting.

Before leading Max outside for his morning ritual, I threw on a pair of sweats and a jacket. The frigid air bit through both in short order. Teeth chattering, I tried to hurry Max along. Unfortunately, he enjoyed the brisk morning air, so the two of us were at cross purposes. As usual, he won. One of these days, I swear I'm going to convince him that I'm the boss.

When I finally got home again, I climbed into a steaming hot shower and stood under the spray until I felt some of the chill leave my bones. As I warmed up, I started to wonder why the man with the limp had turned up at the recreation center. Had he been trying to steal Kerry's truck? If so, he must not be very good at what he did. A competent thief would have had that truck open, hot-wired, and gone before I'd even noticed him messing around with it.

Hard on the heels of that thought came a flash of irritation with Elizabeth for her reaction when I delivered the boys safe and sound to her doorstep last night. Sure, we'd been fifteen minutes late, but it was only fifteen minutes, and we had a good reason. Wyatt had been concerned but cool. Elizabeth had started fretting about letting the boys go anywhere until somebody figured out what was going on in Paradise.

Unfortunately, the police wouldn't do anything until something really bad happened; meanwhile, the good people of Paradise could suffer a whole rash of irritating incidents. One or two more, and I knew Elizabeth would keep the kids home-which seemed blatantly unfair. On the other hand, if I could figure out what was going on, maybe we could put a stop to all this nonsense before the whole thing got out of hand.

After attacking my hair with a blow dryer, I dressed in an oversized green sweater, a soft pair of jeans, and tennis shoes, then hurried downstairs to Divinity a few minutes before we opened at ten.

It was Sunday morning, so I wasn't expecting much foot traffic. I'd just finished making a pot of coffee and digging out the lone remaining piece of leftover coffee cake when the front door opened, and Jawarski stepped through.

I smiled when I saw him-right up until I realized he had his cop face on. Letting my smile evaporate, I poured two cups of coffee and shoved one across the counter at him. "You look down in the mouth. What's going on?"

Jawarski leaned on the counter, grabbed the mug with one hand, and wiped the other across his face. He has a nice face. A solid, steady, reliable kind of face that also happens to be s.e.xy as h.e.l.l. In the time I've known him, I've never seen him without his regulation cop mustache, and I'm not sure I want to. It suits him.

When he finally looked at me, I saw that his eyes were the color of storm clouds, and I knew I wasn't going to like whatever he'd come to say. Two seconds later, he proved me right. "Tell me what you were doing at the recreation center last night," he said.

"I was there for basketball practice. I'm a.s.sistant coach of the Miners this year."

One of Jawarski's eyebrows rose. "I heard about that, but I wasn't sure it was true. Since when?"

"Since yesterday. At least, yesterday was my first practice. I actually joined the team earlier in the week."

"Why are you coaching basketball?"

I ignored the implied insult in that question and spooned sugar into my cup. "Why shouldn't I coach basketball?"

"No reason," Jawarski said quickly. "I'm just surprised, that's all. It doesn't seem like something you'd enjoy."

I slipped out from behind the counter and carried my cup and cake to one of the wrought-iron tables in the seating area. I settled in comfortably and helped myself to a chocolaty bite. "That shows how much you know. For your information, I wasn't always this sedentary. When I was a kid, I did a lot of things I don't do now."

Jawarski dipped his head, conceding the point, and joined me at the table. "So you just had a desire to turn back the clock, is that it?"

"No, Brody and Caleb asked me to take the job. They needed another adult on the coaching staff, or the team was going to fold. Now tell me why you want to know."

He propped his feet on an empty chair and scrunched down on his tailbone. The day had barely started, and already he looked beat. "I want to know because Kerry Hendrix thinks you vandalized his truck last night."

"What?" The coffee cup was halfway to my mouth when he said that, and the shock made me spill about half of it into my lap. I let out a yowl and stood, brushing ineffectually at the hem of my sweater and the front of my jeans. "Kerry Hendrix thinks I-? What a jerk! He thinks that I-?"

Jawarski listened to me sputter for a few minutes, then offered another bit of information. "He says he saw you in the parking lot when he came outside last night. Everyone else had been gone for half an hour or so, and you had no reason to stick around."

"What an idiot."

"He also says that you were upset with him for-" He consulted his notebook and read, "-'for putting you in your place in front of the boys.' " Jawarski gave me a long, slow look. "You want to tell me about that?"

"No, but I will if you insist. I thought he was pushing the boys too hard. He didn't agree with me, and he didn't like me challenging him in front of the kids. The boys insisted they were all right, and Hendrix sent me back to the bench to count towels."

"And why were you there so late?"

A couple of people slowed to look into the shop's windows. I waited until they'd walked on again to answer. It was the first time in a long time that I'd actively willed customers away from the store, and that made me even angrier.

"I was there," I snarled, "because I saw someone messing around with his truck. At first I thought it was Hendrix, but when I got closer, I realized the guy was too short, and it couldn't have been him. I shouted at him, and he ran away. That's when I realized that it was the same man I almost hit the other night-the man with the limp."

Both of Jawarski's eyebrows shot up at that. "You're sure it was the same man?"

I nodded, torn between feeling contrite and being p.i.s.sed as h.e.l.l. "I probably should have called and told you-and if I'd had any idea I'd need to prove my innocence, I would have-but how was I supposed to know that jerk would accuse me of vandalizing his truck?"

"Let me get this straight. You saw the guy with the limp at the rec center last night. The one you thought you hit. The one you thought had been shot."

"Unless there are suddenly two men with the same limp skulking around Paradise in the middle of the night."

"And you're saying he's the one who vandalized the truck?"

"I don't know for sure," I admitted, "but he was doing something, and when he ran away he dropped a long piece of metal."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I heard it hit the pavement. I don't know what it was, but he could have been using it on Kerry's truck."

Scowling, Jawarski pulled out the notebook he always kept in his shirt pocket. "Hendrix doesn't say anything about seeing a man with a limp."

"That's because he was long gone before Kerry ever came outside."

"So n.o.body saw him but you?"

I smiled and shook my head. "Brody and Caleb were with me. They not only saw the man with the limp, they also saw me pick up the metal piece he dropped."

Jawarski looked surprised at that. "You have it?"

"Of course I have it. After I saw what Kerry's truck looked like, I thought it might be some kind of evidence. It's in the back of the Jetta."

He gave me an atta-girl smile that pleased me a whole lot more than I wanted it to. "Did you happen to see where the guy ran off to?"

"I saw him get into a dark-colored SUV, but I couldn't get close enough to get the license number. I have no idea who was driving, and I didn't see where they went."

"Did the boys see the car, too?"

"Brody did. I'm not sure about Caleb."

Jawarski nodded, made a note, and slipped the notebook into his pocket again.

"You're not going to talk to them, are you?" I asked.

"Why not? If they corroborate what you've told me, Hendrix will have to back off."

"Yeah, and Elizabeth will pull the boys off the team. You know how protective she is. She's already talking about keeping them home, but the boys will be devastated if she does. Please don't drag them into this."

Jawarski looked at me for a moment, then shook his head. "If you say so, but I doubt Hendrix is going to believe that you're innocent just because you say so."

"I'll take my chances."

"Fine," he said with an exasperated shake of his head. "You want to show me that metal strip?"

He didn't agree with my decision, but I didn't care. With Brody working his way toward the starting lineup and Caleb trying to prove he wasn't a sissy, getting yanked off the team by a concerned mother was the last thing either of them needed.

The door opened, admitting two women into the shop, and I seized the opportunity to cut our conversation short. "Love to," I said, "but it looks like I'm going to have to work." I ducked into the kitchen, grabbed my keys, and tossed them to Jawarski. "I didn't have anything to pick it up with, but I tried to only touch it on the edges in case somebody left fingerprints."

The corners of his mouth lifted again, and before I knew what he was thinking, he leaned across the counter and kissed me soundly. "Well, at least there's one good thing that came from all of this," he said with a wink, "if you saw the guy with the limp, at least we know he's okay."

Chapter 11.

Jawarski made off with the piece of metal, and Karen came through the door two minutes later. She seemed to be in an unusually good mood, and for some reason that grated up against the irritation I'd been feeling since Jawarski told me about Kerry's accusation. I didn't get a chance to ask why she was so happy until much later-after we'd waited on the customers who'd come in while I was talking to Jawarski and then ridden herd on a group of teenagers who stampeded into the shop a few minutes later.

When the last of the kids finally straggled out of the store, I pulled out the toffee bin so I could replenish the sample tray and checked to make sure Karen was still grinning.

She was.

"You're in an awfully good mood," I observed casually. "What's up? You and Sergio have time for a quick roll in the hay this morning?"

Karen laughed and shook her head. "Are you kidding? It's Sunday. He was still asleep when I left."

Conjuring up an image of Hendrix's face, I broke a slab of brittle into small pieces. It felt so good, I smashed another, and then rewarded myself by popping a piece into my mouth.

The b.u.t.tery toffee filled my senses and made the world seem a little brighter.

"Well, something's got you grinning like the Cheshire Cat. What's going on?"

Karen bent to pick up a couple of napkins the kids had dropped on the floor and with a shrug, tossed the napkins into the trash. "I've found our new clerk. She'll be starting tomorrow morning."

I frowned slightly. "You found someone already? It's not one of the cousins, is it?"

Karen shook her head and started toward the small room on the other side of the shop. "No, it's not one of the cousins." She fluttered a dismissive hand over one shoulder as she walked, and stopped in the archway to look back at me. "It's actually someone who used to live here. She's come back, and she needs a job. She called yesterday after you left, so I had her come in for an interview."

"Do I know her?"

"I don't know. Her name's Liberty Parker."

The name didn't ring any bells, but with a name like Liberty, it seemed likely that she'd been born in the mid- seventies, which would make her . . . a few years younger than me. She'd probably been way below my teenage radar screen. "What do you know about her?"

"Not much," Karen admitted. "Just, like I said, that she's back in town, and she needs work."

"Did she have references?"

Karen's smile faded a bit. "I thought you were leaving the choice up to me."

"I did," I said with a patient smile. "Now I'm just asking for a few details. What made you decide to hire her? Does she have experience in retail?"

Karen hesitated ever so slightly before admitting, "I don't know."

"You didn't ask her?"

"I didn't think it was necessary," she said, lifting her chin defiantly. "She'll be fine. Trust me."

"I do trust you," I said, my patience slipping a bit, "but Divinity's a small shop. Whoever we hire is going to have a key to the shop and access to all our money. Please tell me you asked at least a few questions when you interviewed her."

Karen's chin jacked up another notch or two. "I asked plenty of questions." Her voice snapped like taut wire. "n.o.body comes with a guarantee, Abby. I've talked to Liberty, and I think she'll work out just great. If my judgment isn't enough for you, maybe you should just do everything yourself."

I pride myself on being relatively smart-at least smart enough not to alienate the only person standing between me and failure in the candy business. It wasn't easy, but I slicked on a smile and poured bits of pummeled toffee into the sample tray. "I'm sure Liberty will be fine," I said, hoping I sounded as if I meant it. "I can't wait to meet her."

I thought Jawarski might call that evening to tell me what he'd found out about the metal strip, but I thought wrong. Max and I ended up sharing a bowl of candied popcorn while we watched a broadcast version of My Big, Fat Greek Wedding on TV, then going to bed depressingly early.

Next morning, I woke with the sun to find that a cold front had settled into the valley overnight. I pulled on a thick sweater and even thicker socks, then set off with Max for our morning walk. I had a lot to do that morning, and I wanted to get an early start.

A few minutes after eight, I let myself into the shop and got started making three dozen candy cornucopia centerpieces Richie Bellieu and Dylan Wagstaff had ordered for a dinner party the following week. Richie and Dylan were good customers, but they were also friends. Jawarski and I had both been invited to their dinner party, and I wanted the centerpieces to be special.

I dug out the grapevine cornucopia baskets I'd ordered from an online supplier and packed one with fruit drops in autumn-colored wrappers, dark and milk chocolate autumn leaves in colorful foil, and red, yellow, orange, green, and purple jelly candies wrapped in clear cellophane to let their colors shine through. I added molded milk chocolate b.a.l.l.s filled with caramel and carefully positioned several small packets of Autumn Mix Jelly Beans.

Satisfied with the mix of color and texture, I wedged one of the large orange, yellow, and white swirled lollipops I'd made the previous week, positioned a few silk leaves, and voila! instant horn of plenty. If you called an hour and a half "instant."

Twice in the s.p.a.ce of an hour, the phone had rung with people calling in response to the want ad. Resisting the urge to take down their names and keep them as backup, I told both callers that the position had been filled.

Figuring I still had half an hour until the shop opened, I reached into the cupboard for ribbon. When I heard a knock on the front door, I dropped the roll on the floor and watched the satin make an autumn-colored trail across the floor.

Had I lost track of time? I checked the clock on the wall, but it was only a few minutes past nine thirty. Whoever it was could wait.