Cold Case, Hot Accomplice. Carla Cassidy

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      She rarely cooked up here, given the industrial kitchen in the restaurant, where she usually nibbled and picked her way through the day from whatever was on the menu.

      The last thing on her mind was food, either for herself or her customers. What she really wanted to know was what time Detective Kincaid began his day at work, or if he was off on Saturdays.

      Since the three detectives usually had their first meal at the restaurant around seven and were always on their way out the door within forty-five minutes, she assumed their daily schedule began at eight.

      Steve Kincaid didn’t strike her as a man who would be on time. He probably lollygagged to his desk sometime between eight-fifteen and eight-thirty. Roxy had never been late for anything in her life, and she wouldn’t have a hard time believing that Steve Kincaid had never been on time for anything in his life. His laid-back aura was in direct opposition to her driving energy.

      She frowned and got up to pour herself a second cup of coffee, her mind still filled with the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed detective, who for some reason irritated her by his mere existence whenever she saw him.

      It was, for the most part, an irrational reaction, and that’s what made it all the more irritating. Despite his outrageous flirting with her, he would never mean anything to her in life. No man ever would. Besides, she knew his stupid flirting was just for show.

      But she was aware of the fact that she needed him right now, that she was depending on him to fix her world and make it right. She just wasn’t used to needing anyone.

      She also realized that in all their talk about Aunt Liz and her friends and acquaintances the day before, they hadn’t mentioned Ramona and the potential that Liz might have run off to meet her young sister somewhere. In fact, Roxy thought perhaps they’d given Steve the impression that their mother was dead, and as much as she hated it, she needed to be clear about the woman who was their mother.

      After finishing her second cup of coffee, she left the kitchen and headed for the bathroom, where she took a long, hot shower and then dressed in a pair of jeans and a navy T-shirt that advertised the Dollhouse in bold pink letters.

      By that time she knew Josie had arrived in the kitchen downstairs, for the scent of boiling chicken and simmering roast drifted up the stairway as Roxy headed downstairs.

      When she entered the kitchen, Josie stood in front of the stove, her feet moving and arms flailing to the music coming in from her earbuds.

      She nearly jumped out of her shoes when Roxy tapped her on the shoulder. Roxy might have laughed on any other day, but today there was no laughter to be found anyplace inside her.

      Josie yanked out her earbuds, her cute features instantly transforming into concern. “Roxy, how are you doing?”

      It took a moment for Roxy to reply. How was she doing? “I think I’m kind of numb right now,” she finally said.

      “So there wasn’t any word overnight?”

      Roxy shook her head. “No, nothing. Are you going to be okay here without me today?”

      “I’ve got it covered.” Josie stepped back to the stove and turned down the flames beneath the boiling chicken that would later be deboned and prepared as chicken salad for the lunch fare. “I’ve called in Allie and Nancy to waitress. Greg will help me out here in the kitchen, and Gus said he’d try to show up a little early this afternoon to help with anything we need and with closing up.”

      She moved closer to Roxy, her brown eyes soft with sympathy. “We have this, Roxy. For as long as you need us, we’ll all pull together and keep this place running just as if you were here snapping the whip.”

      Roxy smiled faintly, knowing that she was, indeed, a tough taskmaster. She was first and foremost a businesswoman, driven and determined to succeed.

      “You know I have full confidence in you to keep the standards high and service impeccable,” Roxy said. “Besides, I’m hoping we’ll figure things out this morning, or at least by the end of the day, and Aunt Liz will be home and I’ll be back in the kitchen in the morning.”

      “Are you meeting up with your sisters?”

      “No, I insisted they open the store today as usual. There’s no point in all three of us running amok trying to find answers. Besides, Marlene hasn’t been herself since her divorce, and Sheri would be too shy and polite to demand things get done unless somebody threatened one of her woodland creatures.”

      Josie shot her a wry grin. “And we know you don’t have that problem. Actually, Marlene called me a little while ago and said she’d been up all night and had baked some pies and pastries to bring in this morning.”

      Roxy looked at her in surprise, although she supposed she shouldn’t be startled. Marlene had always been at Aunt Liz’s side when she baked goodies and had at one time dreamed of opening her own bakery, a dream that had seemed to die along with her marriage.

      “She said she’ll bring in the baked goodies every morning until your aunt can do it again,” Josie said.

      Roxy’s heart expanded with love for her sister, who had probably been up all night worrying and had used that time to make sure Roxy had what she needed for her business.

      Josie looked at the large clock on the kitchen wall. “Actually, she should be here anytime.”

      It was just after six-thirty, and so Roxy sat at the prep table to wait for her sister and tried not to focus on how wrong everything felt.

      She should be cooking, waiting for Aunt Liz to arrive, while Marlene should be in bed, snoozing until heading into the roadside shop at noon. Roxy should be cutting up vegetables or adding a secret herb to a soup or planning new specialties.

      Sheri was probably already outside, filling squirrel and bird feeders and taking care of all the other woodland creatures that brought her far more comfort than people ever had.

      Sheri had been a stutterer for the first twelve years of her life, and Roxy couldn’t count the number of times she’d beaten up some ignorant bully for making fun of her kid sister. The stutter had gradually gone away and now only appeared when she was particularly stressed or excited.

      A knock on the back door signaled Marlene’s arrival. Roxy hurried to let her sister in, as her arms were filled with pie carriers and boxed pastries.

      “Let me take those from you,” Roxy said, noting that Marlene looked utterly exhausted. Dark circles shadowed the porcelain skin beneath her eyes, although the long blond hair that fell to her shoulders was clean and silky. Her lips quivered slightly as she attempted a smile.

      “You didn’t need to do this, Marlene,” Roxy said as she and her sister placed the baked goods on a nearby table.

      “I know, but I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t just do nothing, so I drove to Aunt Liz’s and used her kitchen to bake. I can do this for you, Roxy, at least until Aunt Liz comes back. It will make me feel useful, and I don’t mind at all.”

      “But you can’t get up early in the morning and bake for me and then be at the store all day,” Roxy said.

      “Sheri and I have already figured it all out so that I can bake in the morning and work the evening СКАЧАТЬ