Page 37 of Lake House Killer

It’s evening when Jack and I land back in Pine Ridge Falls. It’s dark and icy out and we’re both hungry so we decide to stop off at my mother’s diner.

Buddy gives a happy bark once we get out of the truck.

“He seems to be in agreement with our decision,” I say.

“That’s because he knows they feed him well here.” Jack pats his belly as he says it. “Same here, big guy.” He gives Buddy’s head a quick pat, too. “I don’t know whether to start with dinner or dessert.”

We head inside and Riley is behind the register once again. It’s warm, the fall garlands hanging over the counters and along the windows look perfectly cozy, but it’s the pumpkins sitting on every free surface that brings a smile to my face.

I can’t help it. I’ve always been a sucker for those happy little globes.

As soon as Riley finishes ringing up a customer, she heads our way.

“I take it Mom is short-staffed again?” I ask, giving her a quick embrace.

“Wrong,” she sings. “Jet and I did a thing.”

Jack and I cut a quick glance at one another.

“What thing?” I growl.

Marriage comes to mind. I’m not sure why. After the disaster that was our parents’ marriage, the Baxter girls have been wary of the state of that particular union.

“Come on.” She takes Buddy’s leash from me. “I’ll show you.” She leads the way down the main aisle of the diner and out the back exit which is usually sealed off to patrons. It’s where my mother typically stores whatever junk she can’t fit inside, nothing worth stealing but not quite trash.

The cool fall air greets us as we step onto what looks to be a newly revamped patio where a plethora of customers are already seated and enjoying their meals. Tables and chairs are set out across the spacious expanse. Hundreds of twinkle lights weave through the air up above and cast a warm glow over the space.

Several fire pits crackle with life, throwing flickers of light onto the faces of the patrons huddled around them. And just about everyone sitting around one of those fire pits has spears of marshmallows that are turning luscious shades of golden brown as they puff up against the flames.

“Jet and I thought this would be a perfect spot for people to relax, especially with the view of the falls,” she tells us with a goofy grin that sends another set of alarms off in me.

We glance over and, true enough, this space affords the perfect view of the falls as they cascade down the mountain in the distance, glowing an otherworldly shade of blue as the spotlights that shine over them every night make their presence known even in the dark. Their rumbling is a soft backdrop to the laughter and chatter around us.

“Wow,” I say. “The setup with heaters and the fire pits makes the patio a cozy refuge. It looks as if you and Jet had a great idea.”

Jack moans, “My brother rarely has a great idea.” He eyes the space suspiciously. “But I have to give it to you. The two of you knocked it out of the park.”

“Well take a seat. You know the menus. What can I get for you?” Riley is more than happy to land us at a table with a fire pit in the middle. “I’ll bring out some s’mores kits, too. I just added them to the menu. They cost a mint, but we’re already getting low on inventory.”

“Mom is lucky to have you,” I tell her as we get settled and Buddy hops in the seat between Jack and me as he gives a bark of delight at the flickering flames.

“Speaking of Mom.” Riley winces just as my mother herself pops up behind her.

“There you are,” Mom says, landing in a chair across from us. Her dark hair has been mostly taken over with gray, and the way she has it spun up over her head it looks like blue cotton candy.

Mom has deep-set eyes outlined with copious amounts of blue eyeshadow and her lips are always as red as cherries. She originally hails from Tennessee and her accent has never quite left her.

“What in the hell is going on?” Mom gruffs. “When were you going to tell me your sister is running around with some hairy scary mobsters? Don’t make me dig that gun out of your purse and shoot up whatever strip club they’ve got my baby girl working at. I’m not above a homicide or two.” She punctuates her tirade with a sharp look right at me and that fiasco with our father comes back in snatches.

The Glock, the blood, my dad dead.

“I’m aware of what you’re capable of,” I tell her before shaking my head at my sister. “I thought we weren’t going to tell her?”

“Why in the heck wouldn’t ya tell me?” Mom spouts off again, getting more country-fried by the second.

That’s pretty much the direction her lexicon sails in when she’s this upset.

“This is why,” I say above a whisper as heads begin to turn this way. “You’re not only threatening a felony, you’re causing a scene.”

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