Wainright Miller emptied the safe and shoved his automatic pistol into his waistband. He grabbed his travel documents, keys, and laptop. Hell no, this wasn’t how he had planned it—but this was how it was.
If he were going to survive, he’d have to adapt.
Minutes ago, he’d learned that Spivey’s last two meth bozos had been murdered inside the walls of the Gaston County Jail. Cops had moved them there as a precautionary measure after that idiot meth cook got himself dead in the local lockup before his fingerprint ink was dry.
Miller could do the math. He was now the only person still alive from that entire operation. It didn’t take a Rhodes scholar to figure out who was next on their hit list. Ramirez was going to get rid of him.
He had always known this day was coming, and he’d been preparing for it for a long time. He just didn’t think it would be today.
* * *
“As I have mentioned, Fern, it’s a lady’s duty to look after the infirm.”
From the passenger seat, Fern gave Tanyalee the stink-eye, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. She was so perky that Fern was going to have to work a little harder to get her goat today.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know how we’re helpin’ the sick by givin’ them frosted diabetes-in-a-cup.” Fern slumped in her seat and folded her arms. “Anyway, they ain’t sick, Tanyalee. They’re just old, and old folks give me the wiggins.”
They didn’t, really. She only said that to get a reaction, but Tanyalee must have been seriously distracted because there was none. The boring truth was, old people were nice to Fern, especially Three-Gee. As a bonus, old people weren’t likely to pull out a gun and blow somebody’s head off just for the hell of it. Though, on second thought, Gladys might—if someone really ticked her off.
“Now, Fern, don’t call them old. They prefer the word ‘elderly.’ Or even better—‘mature.’ And I’ll have you know that these are sugar-free cupcakes designed to be diabetes-friendly.” Tanyalee made a little harrumphing sound. “I wouldn’t do anything to harm these old cutie-pies!”
Fern stared at her “mentor,” thinking that Tanyalee was just about the most fascinating person she’d ever met. The woman could surely drive Fern crazy, but by now it was clear that Tanyalee meant well, even when she would ramble on and on about nothing.
As unbelievable as it seemed, Fern had learned that Tanyalee spent about three hours a day “getting ready” as she called it, and when Fern had asked what, exactly, she was “getting ready” for, Tanyalee went on about the finer points of preparing to start her day, or go to work, or head to the gym, or to go on a date, or even get ready for bed. Personally, Fern thought that sleeping should be the one thing you didn’t need to coordinate your wardrobe and makeup for, but then, she was just twelve.
She’d also learned that Tanyalee’s family was as crazy as she was, but they all seemed to love each other in some type of way. Her sister, Cheri, was married to the same guy Tanyalee had once been married to, which was still hard for Fern to wrap her head around. Granddaddy Garland and Aunt Viv were brother and sister and older than dirt, but they lived in the same house and fought like little kids wanting the same toy.
But the best thing about Tanyalee, by far, was that she was a stone-cold convict! Ha! Not that Fern held it against her. In fact, Fern thought that having a criminal background made Miss Goofyberry a lot more human, almost normal, even. And Fern would have come up with a lot of great ways to tease her about her record, but they were pulling in to the parking lot of the main building of Cherokee Pines Assisted Living, and Tanyalee was acting all businesslike.
She backed up the Cadillac to the rear entrance of the building, and after only about forty-two corrections, which had to be a new personal best for her, Tanyalee yanked the gearshift into park and turned off the ignition. The gas-guzzling engine rumbled to a stop while Tanyalee reached into the backseat for her big, fugly purse.
Fern waited more or less patiently while Tanyalee did the hair-pat, followed by the lipstick thing that had to be some kind of religious ritual for Bigler women, because Three-Gee did it too, only with way trashier lipstick.
Tanyalee smiled at herself in the rearview, then smiled at Fern. “This stop won’t take long, and then I can drop you at home.” She returned the lipstick to her handbag, which she tucked between them on the bench seat. “I must say I enjoy your company on these delivery runs. It makes it kind of fun, don’t you think?”
Fern had to admit that Daffy Taffy’s smile was a lot nicer now that she wasn’t trying so hard to be plastic-fantastic. Fern liked her better like this, warm and fuzzy in a wild-eyed-kitten-with-sharp-claws kind of way. It was sure better than how she acted the day they first met! Tanyalee had been pulled so tight back then that she seemed about to shatter like a beer bottle on the blacktop.
Fern hopped out and followed Tanyalee around to the trunk.
“Candy packed up ten dozen, which ought to be plenty for all the residents and staff…” Tanyalee jabbered on while carefully handing Fern a long cardboard box filled with two dozen cupcakes. She lifted another box into her own arms. “… we’re going to have to make more trips to the car.” She turned toward the home for the “elderly” and sighed. “I do hope Hugo Stevens doesn’t try to catch me behind the potted palms again. Being propositioned by a man old enough to be my granddaddy is downright disturbin’.”
Fern shrugged. “Geezers gotta geeze.” She took the lead up the sidewalk, carefully watching her step. The bakery boxes had a tendency to bend and Fern didn’t want to be the one who disappointed the nice old people who looked forward to Cupcake Wednesday all week long. Fern knew all about disappointment, since she’d had plenty of Christmases without so much as a pair of new socks, not to mention all the nights without dinner and the mornings without breakfast. She wouldn’t wish that kind of disappointment on anyone.
They let themselves into the heavy security door used for deliveries. The facility’s kitchen was all cleared up and empty in the hours between lunch and dinner. Tanyalee knew exactly where to place the boxes and pointed to where Fern’s should go. She set it down a little too hard.
“Careful there,” Tanyalee told her. “I think Candy ought to get some of those clear plastic boxes, because these just don’t stand up to North Carolina humidity.”
Fern rolled her eyes. The last thing she cared about was some damn bakery boxes. But Tanyalee was like that, always fussing about the little things.
When they exited the building again, Tanyalee propped the door slightly ajar. They had no sooner reached the car than Tanyalee’s cell phone went off, blaring that annoying song from the window of the pimpmobile. Fern was so embarrassed she wanted to hide behind the bushes.
“I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want…”
Fern wanted her to get a new ringtone.
But there went Tanyalee, running to answer her phone, moving fast as a hound dog to a bucket of bacon grease.
It was torture listening to the way Tanyalee chattered on the phone, all pink and excited whenever he called. Fern didn’t set out to listen to people’s private conversations, but what was she supposed to do, stick her fingers in her ears and go, “La-la-la-la-la?” As Tanyalee made a date with Dante for later her voice got all gooey and ridiculous.
“I’ll be done here in a jiff and we’ll have the whole evening. Uh-huh. No more than fifteen minutes.” Tanyalee started giggling like a first-grader. “Umkay. No, I’m all dressed so I can just meet you at the bakery. What? Oh, stop! You’re terrible! I am just going to hang up now. Umbye-bye.”
“Oh, my dar-leeng Dawn-tay!” Fern stood in front of Tanyalee, making her voice as high and flirty as she could, fanning her hands around her face.
Tanyalee stared at her blankly.
Fern took it up a notch. “Oh, my stars! I just can’t wait to be frisked, and I simply love it when you show me your big ol’ badge.”
The only reaction she got out of her mentor was a small twitch of a single eyebrow.
Fern propped her fists on her hips and got down to the nitty-gritty. “You’re in love with that side of beef, aren’t you?”
Tanyalee’s lips parted in surprise. “What did you just call him?”
Fern waved off her concern. “Oh, that’s just Three-Gee’s name for him. So, are you? You know, in luuuhve?” Fern waited. As the seconds ticked by, she thought, Come on, Tanyalee. No more bullshit.
Tanyalee looked down at her phone like it was some kind of crystal ball and shook her head. “I’m not sure I fully understand what love is yet, but I think that yes, I might love him.” She glanced up, her eyes all dreamy and gazing off in the distance, then suddenly, her attention snapped back to Fern. “I take that back. You know what?”
She shook her head.
“I do love him, right now, right this minute.” Her eyes got all sparkly. “And even if I haven’t figured it all out yet, I can love him to the best of my ability and learn as I go. Don’t you think?”
Fern saw how goofy-happy Tanyalee was, and she was happy for her. But she’d never let on, so she scowled. “Uh, does he know how crazy you are? Because it would only be fair to tell the poor guy what he’s getting into.”
Tanyalee just laughed and laughed as she tossed her phone into her purse and set it back on the front seat. “I do believe we have touched upon that topic, thankyousoverymuch. Now, let’s get these cupcakes into that nice cool kitchen so we can be on our way.”
“On your way, you mean.” Fern grumbled as she took her next long bakery box, then turned to head up the sidewalk to the back entrance. “You’re going out on a fancy date with Mr. Beef and I’m goin’ home to watch Nick at Nite with Gladys, ’cause you know she loves her some Jed Clampett.”
Because Fern was concentrating on not stumbling, she didn’t see the kitchen door fly open until it hit the bakery box and nearly knocked her ass-over-rain-barrel. The cardboard crumpled like tissue paper and the cupcakes scattered, some rolling away, some splattering frosting-side down on the cement sidewalk.
Fern got ready to open a can of whoop-ass on the idiot who just ruined Cupcake Wednesday. She looked up.
And the bottom dropped out of her nice, new life.
* * *
Tanyalee turned just in time to see Fern’s cupcakes spilling onto the pavement, the girl’s face frozen in horror.
Wainright Miller loomed over her, brushing at a smear of icing on his crisp short-sleeved shirt, his expression one of angry disdain.
“Oh, my gracious,” Tanyalee breathed, seeing that there had been some sort of collision. She set her box back onto the floor of the trunk, then teetered on her high heels down the sidewalk toward them.
Miller glared down at Fern, who suddenly looked quite small and vulnerable in his shadow. “Do you mind getting out of the way?” He was about to push her aside when Tanyalee reached Fern.
“What is this all about?” she demanded.
The only answer she got was Fern’s panicked breathing, followed by a particularly weighty bit of cussing.
“Oh, shee-it,” Fern said, staring up at Mr. Miller with a face as pale as milk. “It’s the Fat Man!”
Miller froze. His eyes narrowed. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Tanyalee was horrified. She reached out to take Fern’s hand and tug her away. “Fern Bisbee! What manners! Oh, my goodness, Mr. Miller, I do apologize for her, but your choice of language was completely—” Miller shoved Taffy. Her fabulous but useless shoes skidded on the cupcake-smeared back step. She dropped Fern’s hand as she tried to catch her balance.
Miller stalked toward Fern, his upper lip curled in fury.
Though Fern tried to slink away, he moved in on her, snatching the front of her blouse in his fist and yanking her forward. “Who the hell are you?”
“I…” Fern tried to wriggle free, her eyes wide in terror. “I ain’t nobody, mister. Let me go! Now!”
Miller hovered over her, scowling, like he was trying to place her. “Bisbee.” His eyes widened. “Bisbee? That loser meth cook was your father?”
Fern shook her head in a panic. “No! Let me go!”
Tanyalee regained her footing in time to lunge at Miller, grabbing his shirtsleeve. “You stop that right now, Mr. Miller, or I’ll call the police. I have no idea what in heaven’s name is going on here but—”
“Would you shut the fuck up?” Simultaneously, Miller yanked Fern by the arm, spun her around, and slapped his hand over her mouth, muffling her screams, while clutching Tanyalee by the throat and squeezing. His cruel fingers hooked into her signature strand of pearls as he pressed her backward. Tanyalee felt the knotted silk break and slide away and a suffocating pain shoot through her throat. Despite the pain she knew what she had to do: get Fern away from this madman.
Any hope for that was immediately dashed as Wainright Miller forced them both toward the parked Cadillac. Tanyalee had a brief thought of trying to grab her phone from the front seat but she never had a chance, as he tossed Fern into the trunk with one hand, then swiftly hoisted Tanyalee in on top of her, ending Fern’s attempt to scramble out of the vehicle.
Before they could untangle themselves, Miller pushed against the heavy trunk lid, not at all concerned about any limbs that might be in harm’s way. The trunk slammed shut with a final-sounding thud, leaving them in darkness.
* * *
“Tanyalee?”
Fern’s tiny voice was nearly drowned out by the noise of Miller gunning the Cadillac’s engine and screeching out of the Cherokee Pines parking lot. Tanyalee reached behind her to find Fern’s sticky little hand, determined to keep her calm.
“Now, don’t you worry, Fern. I’ll find a way to get us … I’m going to make sure we…” The sound of her own panicked laughter raced through her mind. Exactly what do you plan to do, Tanyalee Marie Newberry? You can’t flirt your way out of this one!
“I’m so sorry, Tanyalee.” Fern sniffled softly. The only other time Tanyalee had heard Fern make that particular noise was at the hair salon, when she didn’t feel worthy of a cut and blow-dry. Every other minute Tanyalee had spent in her company, Fern had pretended she was as strong as hillbilly-forged iron wrapped in steel.
“This is all my fault,” she whimpered.
“I really don’t see how that is possible.” Tanyalee was determined to keep the drama to a minimum. “Now, just days ago I could have easily blamed this on my sister’s husband, Mr. High-and-Mighty J.J. DeCourcy, who was hell-bent on my unhappiness. But with recent developments being what they are, I’d have to say this is the work of my no-good, pistol-wavin’ ex-fiancé, Wim Wimbley! I should have known he’d do somethin’ like this! He’s tryin’ to keep me from testifyin’ at his trial—”
“Tanyalee—”
“But this is what I get for making amends with that unrepentant, connivin’ jailbird—”
“Tanyalee—”
“Why, he’s just plain vindictive, that’s what! Did I ever tell you how he shredded my credit cards into itty-bitty confetti and then left a pile of plastic right there on my Liberty Rose pink bathmat for me to find when—”
“Tanya! Frickin’! Lee!”
Tanyalee took a deep breath and composed herself. “Just because you and I are trapped in the trunk of a speeding Cadillac driven by a socially prominent lunatic is no reason to be rude, Miss Bisbee!”
“Okay. So what you’re going to do right now is take a deep breath and shut up for three seconds, because there is something very important you need to know about this here situation.”
Tanyalee blinked rapidly and fluttered her hands at her eyes in the dark, trying to dry them before her mascara ran. A racing heart and an undeniable fear of impending death was no excuse for allowing herself to look like a darned raccoon. “Fine,” she said. “I’m listening.”
The Cadillac swerved then, slinging them against each other. Tanyalee threw out a hand to brace herself against the carpeted trunk lid and pushed with all her might.
“Ow,” Fern said, her voice muffled. “Your bony ass is in my stomach.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” Tanyalee did a little exploring with her hands when the car settled once more onto the straightaway. The Cadillac’s trunk was cavernous, more than big enough for the two of them along with the last couple boxes of cupcakes, now a little worse for wear. Both long boxes were a bit flattened in the middle, so Tanyalee pushed them toward the rear bumper before the icing squished out everywhere. It was bad enough being kidnapped. Must she be covered with frosting, to boot?
Tanyalee found that if she twisted her hips just so, she could face the deeper part of the trunk where Fern lay. She braced her hands on one side of the trunk and her peep-toe pumps on the other. For the first time ever, she found herself grateful that Aunt Viv hadn’t purchased a Japanese subcompact back in 1976, since there was plenty of room in this land yacht’s trunk for two abductees. At least Fern wouldn’t get squashed at every turn. For all her toughness, she was built like a baby bird.
“Fine. Say your piece.” Tanyalee sighed. “Only I really do think this may be—”
“It’s about the meth lab!”
Tanyalee blinked. “Oh, sweetie, no. Dante said that was all tied up. It’s a closed case.”
“I lied to him, all right? There was a man working with Spivey and I saw him out there once. He didn’t see me. And I never heard anybody call him by his real name, just the ‘Fat Man.’”
“Oh.”
“He might be skinnier now, but the guy drivin’ your car is the man Dante is lookin’ for.”
“Gracious.”
“I thought he’d been arrested with everyone else until Dante started asking me questions about him at the bowl-a-thon.”
“Go on.”
“He asked me if I’d ever seen anyone who went by that name and I lied! I just … I thought it’d be better if I didn’t say nothin’, that it’d be easier if I just pretended it was over!”
Tanyalee gasped. “So you lied to an officer of the law?”
As soon as the words left her lips, Tanyalee imagined Fern rolling her eyes.
“Oh, right.” Fern snorted. “Like you haven’t had days where you lied five times before breakfast.”
“Well, I suppose I might deserve that, but I have changed my ways and I advise you to do the same. Now, why don’t you get to the point of your story?”
Fern let out a long-suffering sigh. “I just told you the point! I recognized a bad guy. The bad guy knows I recognized him. The bad guy grabbed us and threw us in a trunk. He’s gonna kill me because I can identify him and he’s gonna kill you because you happened to be with me! Get the picture now?”
Tanyalee swallowed. “That clears things up considerably. Thank you.” The big car swerved again. This time the force did not slam them up against each other, but the road had clearly deteriorated. Though they had to raise their voices to hear each other over the rattling and squeaking of the old car on a rutted lane, they could hear Tanyalee’s phone ringing just fine—for the fifth time.
“Tell me what you want…”
On top of everything else, Tanyalee was breaking her promise to Dante that she would always answer her phone. Disappointing him was last thing she ever wanted to do.
They had to have reached the hill country by then. Noting the drastically reduced speed, Tanyalee suspected they were so far out in the backwoods that Miller wasn’t worried about anyone seeing what he was up to. And that terrified her.
“I wish I could reach my cellphone,” she said. “Dante would be here quick as a lick.”
Fern grunted. “I wish I had my daddy’s thirty-eight. Or my old slingshot or even a jagged piece of glass. Too bad there ain’t no such thing as Death by Cupcake.”
Tanyalee bit her lip, thinking, staring into the dark, wondering what a truly determined and resourceful woman might do in this type of situation. She smiled. “Fern, we need to go out of the box.”
“Oh, hell, no. Not the box again.”
“I mean it literally this time, sweetheart. I have a plan.”