Sweet as Pie Crimes by Anisa Claire West Read Free Book Online Page A

about my captor, I shoved the images aside for the umpteenth time and prepared to channel my energy into some serious baking.
    My mother, Susannah, had taught me to bake before I even started Kindergarten.  As a tot, I delighted in licking the sugary batter off the electric egg beaters and decorating homemade cupcakes with sprinkles and fondant designs.  She taught me the luxurious fruit strudel and chocolate layer cake recipes that her German-born mother had passed on to her as I eagerly served as apprentice all the way until high school graduation.  Instead of going to culinary school and following my dream, I took the traditional route and worked a series of stale office jobs until my mother had a scare with a heart murmur.  She recovered and started an exercise regimen, but the reality of losing her stayed fresh in my mind.  In her living honor, I opened up Deep Dish Delights.  I didn’t see her much anymore, but she was very proud of my pie shoppe and stopped by about once a month for a cup of tea and a taste of one of my latest creations.
    “Susannah’s Smooth Lemon Chiffon Pie,” I murmured to myself.  “Great name for a new recipe.” I smiled as I pulled into the small parking lot of Deep Dish Delights, proud of myself for already redirecting my energy into my beloved business.
    I unlocked the front door, surprised that Lori hadn’t come in yet.  But then again it was still early, as I had woken up at the crack of dawn.  My sleep had been restless, peppered with nightmares I couldn’t remember and was sure I would want to forget.  Unloading the grocery bags in the kitchen, I felt the iPad calling me to search for Marcus’s name, but I dismissed the impulse.  Maybe this evening after closing time, I could take a peek at whatever information there was about him on the internet.  For now, I had a whole lot of baking and (hopefully!) selling to do.
    ***
     
    “Don’t you think it’s time you headed home?” Lori asked me wearily later that evening, pointing to the wall clock that read 9:15 pm.
    “Not yet.  I want to work on the books a little before I head home.  But you go ahead…back to your place, I mean.  You don’t need to babysit me for another night.  I’ll be fine,” I persuaded, rubbing my temples despite my best efforts to appear perky.
    “Are you sure?  Because I’d be glad to stay with you.  You’re acting like nothing’s happened, Becca.  Have you even spoken to Mom?”
    “No, but she doesn’t know about this, does she?” I asked, momentarily alarmed thinking of our mother’s weak heart.
    “No, I didn’t want to upset her when you were missing.  She doesn’t know anything.  But it wouldn’t hurt you to give her a call once in a while,” Lori said pertly as she settled disapproving eyes on my exhausted face.
    “Don’t hassle me right now, Lori.  I’ll call her when I’m feeling calmer.  Right now, she would hear the tension in my voice, and it would only freak her out.  Now, come on, go on home!” I shooed her away , waving a gingham dish towel in her direction as she sighed.
    “Alright, I’m going.  But I’m keeping my cell ringer on.  Call me if you need ANYTHING! Promise?”
    “I promise, big sis,” I joked as she shook her head in a maternal way, and my heart melted, imagining her someday as a mother.
    “I promise,” I said softly as she nodded resolutely and drifted out the door.
    In earnest, I tried to work on the books, calculating my sales for the month of May and for the second fiscal quarter of the year.  With the exception of my Mother’s Day mishap, sales were meaty, and momentarily I daydreamed about opening a second pie shoppe in a neighboring town.  I’ll be a pie empress, I thought, building my own empire from graham cracker crust and mousse filling.  After poring over my sales for a solid hour, I felt again inexorably drawn to my iPad to see just who Marcus Briton really was.  The clock was ticking, and soon he would be