Page 30 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

Could someone have set Eliza up?

But why?

She says she didn’t know the man. Although according to footage from the community center, she clearly had words with him. But I’ve known Eliza long enough to realize that if any stranger gets on her bad side, she will most certainly have words with them.

In fact, a lot of people seemed to have words with Sebastian Gallagher that night, and my homework is to question each and every one of them. It should be easy—each one was a redhead, with the exception of Eliza.

Now all I have to do is ask around if anyone saw where the redheads went.

I’ve never felt so conflicted in all my life about a case. Part of me wants to follow procedure and let the evidence lead where it may. The other part knows Eliza wouldn’t kill a man, no matter how much he deserved it.

My phone buzzes on my desk and I pull it over to see a text from Lottie.

Noah, I can’t seem to get ahold of Everett! Evie has been trying to get in touch with him all afternoon and I’ve been trying for the last twenty minutes. I’m starting to think her theory about Everett being kidnapped is accurate. Help!

“What?” I squint at the phone for a moment and read the message again.

I text right back.

Where are you?

She answers right away.

At the bakery. And don’t bother going to the courthouse to track him down. I called and they said he was a no-show today. I called Red Satin, his mother, his sister, and Haley as well, and no one has any clue where he might be. Noah, I’m worried. Very, very worried.

I growl at the screen just reading it. The last thing that Everett or I want is very, very worried Lottie Lemon. A very, very worried Lottie is a Lottie who makes rash decisions, like confronting murderers or breaking into suspicious warehouses.

I tell Lottie to stay put, grab my coat, and try to call Everett as I race out the door. It goes straight to voicemail.

I have no doubt Lottie has done her due diligence, so I don’t bother going to the courthouse and head straight for Honey Hollow. I’ll admit, I sped all the way and twice was tempted to put the siren device on the roof of my truck just to part the Red Sea so I could make it to the bakery faster.

Visions of Everett in trouble—or worse, Lottie going to find Everett in trouble—propel my foot to press harder on the accelerator.

A parking spot opens up out front of the Cutie Pie Bakery and I grab it before jumping out of my truck and racing inside. The bell above the door jingles merrily, completely at odds with the anxiety coursing through my veins.

The warm scent of sugar and cinnamon hits me like a brick wall, and it’s a stark contrast to the tension on Lottie’s face as I spot her sitting at the counter with a small crowd gathered around her.

“I’m here, Lot,” I say, making my way to her and pulling her in. Her body feels so tight, she’s wound tight like a spring. “Where’s Lyla Nell?”

“Back there with my mother.” Lottie hitches her head toward the front, and sure enough, I see Miranda seated with Lyla Nell as the two of them share a platter of green frosted cookies.

At least someone is enjoying themselves. I’m about to look away when I do a double take.

Why in the world does Lyla Nell’s face look as if she was trying out for the circus?

On second thought, a circus clown might have less makeup.

And is she wearing false eyelashes?

“Well, well, Detective Hercules arrives in record time,” my own mother announces from behind the counter. Her blonde bangs sweep across her forehead as she gives me that knowing look, the one that somehow manages to be both judgmental andsimultaneously smug. “I clocked you at twelve minutes from when Lottie texted. That’s impressive even for you, Noah.”

“Mom”—I start to defend my herculean timing, but Lily cuts me off.

“Maybe Everett finally came to his senses,” Lily suggests, arranging a tray of macarons with far too much precision for someone who isn’t avoiding eye contact with me. “Maybe he realized what he signed up for with thatLemonof his and took off before the double trouble arrives.”

“Lily,” Lottie gasps.

“What?” Lily shrugs. “Some men aren’t built for fatherhood. Especially not men like Everett. He’s built for speed when it comes to the female gender and doing things to said females behind closed doors that are illegal in at least sixty states.”

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