Sweet as Pie Crimes Page 2

  He stared off into the woods as he replied, “Just a couple of guys I owe money to.”

  “Why do I not believe you?” I asked warily, wanting to grab his smug face and force him to look me in the eyes.

  “Maybe because you have a trust issue with men,” he answered outrageously, releasing me to stand on my own as I nearly toppled back into the mud.

  “How dare you?” I spat out.

  “Hit a nerve?” He inquired lightly as cockiness reappeared in his countenance.

  “No, I mean how dare you do any of this to me? I have a business to run. I don’t know what sort of trouble you’re in, but I don’t want any part of it.” I whirled around towards the highway, prepared to hitchhike if necessary. My phone inconveniently abandoned at the pie shoppe, I had no other viable way of returning to civilization.

  A firm hand gripped my shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere, Becca.”

  “Get your hands off me!” I jerked away from the bully as his grasp became tighter.

  “You need to stay with me, Becca,” Marcus said in a tone that bordered on begging.

  “Why would I need to stay with you?” I asked warily, still trying to pull away from his vice grip but to no avail. The man had more muscle than a prize winning gladiator.

  “Because I’m not a bad guy. And I need your help. If you leave and tell the police what happened, my ass is cooked,” Marcus rambled on, confusing me more with every word he uttered.

  “Are you a criminal?” I asked pointedly, at a loss to understand why else he would fear the police.

  He shifted his weight anxiously and expelled a huge breath before declaring, “No. I am not a criminal.” Marcus finally looked me in the eyes as he spoke, and I sensed he was telling the truth. At least partially…

  “What are you hiding?” I asked softly as tears welled up in his eyes. “Are you crying?” I asked incredulously.

  Immediately, he turned away, his male pride insisting that he shield his emotions from me. “Just please don’t go. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  “I can’t stay unless you tell me the whole truth of what’s going on. Otherwise, I’m out of here. And you can’t stop me,” I asserted as he stared down at the sloppy earth in defeat. “Fine, don’t tell me. But I’m getting the hell out of here!” I raced towards the highway, intent on hitching a ride from someone---anyone---to escape this bizarre and volatile stranger. Thicker than fresh molasses, the mud held me back, swallowing up my ankles as my body swerved and I nearly fell face first.

  “Easy there!” Marcus shouted from behind, wrapping a strong arm around my waist and steadying me on my feet. “You almost fell head first, Becca. Right onto that branch!”

  “Huh?” I murmured in confusion. My eyes widened like tea saucers as a branch the size of a cabin log came into focus. “Oh my God, I would have gotten a concussion if I landed on that!”

  “Or worse,” Marcus muttered gravely, squeezing my waist until I couldn’t breathe.

  “I’m fine now,” I gasped as he released me.

  “If I had known you would run away and hurt yourself, I would have just told you my damn story. Oh man, I don’t even know where to start…I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this…” He trailed off, his lips and entire frame trembling.

  I stayed mute, afraid that he would shut down if I pushed him anymore. At some point during the frantic drive, we had crossed the border into Idaho, and the landscape was forebodingly desolate. As the sun vanished over the horizon, the prospect of hitchhiking didn’t seem very wise. Insane as it sounded, Marcus might be my best bodyguard for the time being. Brimming with nervous energy, Marcus twisted his lips into strange shapes and fixed his restless gaze on treetops as I waited for him to tell me his story.

  “Look up there!” He blurted out as I followed his gaze to the treetops. “No! Not the trees! Look up over there on the highway! A tour bus is pulling over.”

  He snatched my hand and led me out of the embankment to the shoulder of the highway where a luxury coach had pulled over. Upon spotting the two of us bloodied and muddy car crash victims, the bus driver opened the door and called out to us.

  “You two folks okay? Come on, I’ll drive you to the hospital!” The red bearded driver offered as we eagerly climbed onto the bus.

  Reaching into his pocket, Marcus slipped out a pair of sunglasses and curiously put them on. I wrinkled my nose, wondering why he was wearing sunglasses when darkness was falling as fast as we had crash landed in the embankment. Suspicions that he was a criminal wouldn’t leave me alone, and I vowed to ditch him as soon as the bus stopped at the hospital. I contemplated telling everyone on the bus that they were in the presence of a kidnapper and attempted murderer, but I wasn’t sure if Marcus had any other weapons on him. As I looked at the innocent faces of children snuggled next to their parents on what I presumed to be a family vacation, I wouldn’t dare risk their safety. We really were in the Wild West, but they didn’t need to know exactly how wild.

  Awkwardly, Marcus clasped my hand in his as I glowered at him. I didn’t want anyone to think that we were a couple, but I also knew that people were probably already thinking that.

  “What happened to your car, dears?” An old lady in the adjacent row inquired.

  Marcus patted my hand intimately and replied, “My wife here saw a deer crossing and didn’t want me to hit it. So I swerved out of the way and we ended up off the road.”

  My cheeks flamed at his ludicrous reference to me as his “wife.” I folded my hands in my lap, staring out the window as he spun a ridiculous yarn to the enraptured old lady.

  “You’re a hero!” She exclaimed. “Saved a deer and your wife! What a good man!”

  I snorted disgustedly as Marcus turned to me and whispered in my ear. “I did save your life, remember? You almost fell head first onto a branch!”

  “Yeah, you saved my life after nearly ending it! Don’t expect any gratitude from me,” I hissed back. “And after all the lies you told that old lady, I wouldn’t believe anything you say. So don’t bother trying to tell me your story once we get to the hospital. Your words are meaningless now.”

  Although the dark shades obscured his eyes, his face crumpled with obvious disappointment, and I momentarily cringed, knowing I had been harsh. But my guilt quickly changed back to outrage as a flash of the day’s events burst through my head like stray fireworks.

  “There’s a hospital right off this next exit, folks. Just a few more miles to go,” the bus driver announced amiably.

  “Thank you, sir,” Marcus replied curtly.

  A full moon cast ominous shadows through the window of the bus as I shivered. Glancing down at my clothes, I realized that I still wore the flour-dusted apron I had on when Marcus kidnapped me. Distressed, I wondered how distraught Lori must be not knowing what happened to her older sister. Ever since we were children, we had shared a bit of telepathy that came in handy when concocting stories and excuses to tell our parents. I tried to channel that psychic energy, silently sending my sister a message that I was okay.

  As I sent happy vibes to Lori in Buttercup Valley, the bus swooped off the exit of some no-name town in Idaho. I found it incredible that a reputable hospital could be located so far off the beaten trail. Maybe it was more of a clinic, I thought with a shudder. Caressing my injured forehead and feeling only dry blood, I decided to refuse medical attention. All I needed to do was get to a phone and get away from Marcus…

  “Here you are, folks,” the bus driver announced as the doors screeched open.

  Marcus shot out of his chair seat and held my hand with painful force as we exited the bus, murmuring our thank yous to the benevolent driver. In the moonlight, I could read the sign for Western Mountain Medical Center. As we approached the pitch black building, I could read another sign taped to the front door:

  CLOSED FOR BUSINESS.

  Chapter 3

  “What kind of hospital is closed for business?” I cried, squinting to see if I had misr
ead the sign.

  “The kind that’s moved to a new location in Boise,” Marcus supplied, pointing to a message below the dreadful CLOSED sign.

  “Well how far are we from Boise?” I asked doubtfully.

  “No clue. I don’t even know where we are right now. Damn it! Why did I let that bus driver drop us off in the middle of fucking nowhere?” He shouted into the night, stomping his foot on the concrete as moonlight settled eerily over his face.

  I looked away and bit my lip, furious with myself for not asking for help from someone on the bus. Then I wouldn’t be standing outside an abandoned building in a ghost town with a man who could murder me at any minute. His temper tantrum about the bus driver wasn’t helping to soothe me either.

  “Unfuckingbelievable!” He ranted, pacing up and down the sidewalk.

  “Do you always have such a potty mouth?” I demanded, tired of his brash communication with me.

  “Potty mouth?” He echoed with a snide laugh. “What are you, a Kindergarten teacher?”

  “Are you a Kindergarten student?” I retorted as his laughter died.

  “Don’t get on my bad side, Becca. Things are bad enough with us having no phone, no car, no way of getting the hell out of here.”

  “Did you just threaten me?” I asked in a confident voice even though my insides were quaking like tree limbs on a windy winter’s night.

  Marcus sighed and bridged the distance between us. “I’m sorry. I know that sounded like a threat. But I didn’t mean it that way, Becca. You just have no idea what I’m up against.”

  “Well why don’t you tell me? You were about to tell me when you spotted that stupid bus on the road! Looks like spilling your story would have been a piece of cake compared to the mess we’re in now!”

  Marcus nodded his head fervently. “I can’t argue with that. It’s just not first date conversation…let me get to know you better first.”

  Flabbergasted, I cocked my head to one side and blurted out, “First date?! Did you hit your head when the car crashed? This is definitely not a date! I don’t know what on earth this is, but it’s not a date! That’s for damn sure.”

  “No, of course not,” Marcus said solemnly, pressing his lips together and staring at the ground as though he felt very foolish. “And watch your language,” he added sarcastically.

  “Look, you either tell me what this is all about or…” I couldn’t finish the ultimatum. I wanted to say that either he told me his story or I would leave him there outside the closed hospital. But I had nowhere to go. My situation was even more dire than it had been on the highway. Twilight had morphed into some ungodly hour, and it would be suicidal to roam through the barren town alone.

  “Or what?” Marcus probed.

  “Or I’ll never bake you another deep dish apple pie again,” I said spontaneously, my odd sense of humor again fueled by my discomfort and frayed nerves.

  “Well then I better start talking,” Marcus said with a grin. “Although you told me on the bus that you wouldn’t believe anything I say now, so I’m probably wasting my breath.” His mouth straightened into a grim line as he began talking. “I’m risking a lot by telling you this, Becca. First, I’m risking your opinion of me…although I guess my credibility has already been shot to hell in your eyes…”

  “Not necessarily,” I fibbed. “Go on.”

  “And I’m also risking my own life and safety…and freedom,” he finished as though I hadn’t spoken at all.

  “I’m listening, Marcus,” I said softly as cold anticipation made goose bumps pop up on my arms.

  “I don’t owe those two goons who were shooting at us anything. I lied,” Marcus confessed as I nodded.

  “I know.”

  “Yeah, I’m not the best liar. Anyway, those guys are undercover cops. They’ve been chasing me all over Washington, but I’m too smart for them. I evaded them for months. But they finally caught up to me at your pie shoppe.”

  “Why are you being chased by two cops?” I asked suspiciously, taking a step back as prickly hairs joined the goose bumps on my arms.

  “I’m not a criminal. Let me reiterate that. I am not a criminal,” Marcus declared, looking directly into my eyes.

  “Then why are they chasing you?” I asked as calmly as I could. Terrifying scenarios were running through my head, and I couldn’t wait another minute for the man to tell me the truth. Nothing he could say could be worse than my own violent imaginings.

  “I’m not a criminal,” Marcus repeated for the millionth time. “But I am an accused criminal.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.

  “I was in prison in California for the past three years, Becca. Convicted of a crime I had nothing to do with. Wrongly convicted. Shoved into a cage like an animal without a retrial or other chance to prove my innocence. They stole three years of my life in prison, and I wasn’t going to let them steal another damn minute. That’s why I had to take you hostage. That’s the only reason why, Becca.” The intensity in Marcus’s eyes was alarming, and I recoiled further away from him.

  “What crime were you convicted of?” I asked with a mouth dry as sandpaper.

  Evading my question, Marcus took a step closer. “You have no idea how awful the last three years have been for me. I spent my thirtieth birthday behind bars! I lost my most of my friends and family because they believed the damn verdict!” His voice was raw with emotion.

  “What crime were you convicted of?” I echoed my words of a few moments ago, assuming a defensive stance and crossing my arms over my chest protectively. Mentally, I braced myself for the petrifying word I sensed he would utter.

  In a droning whisper, Marcus confessed, “Murder.”

  Chapter 4

  Consciously, I backed further and further away from Marcus as the bottoms of my feet tingled with fear. As the chilling word “murder” echoed in my thoughts, I schemed a way to escape my hellish situation and somehow arrive safely back in civilization. But my mind was a blank slate with just one word, MURDER, etched in blood red so bright that I couldn’t see anything else.

  “Becca, I can see you’re scared, but I’m being honest when I say that I’m a victim as much as the person who was murdered!” I heard Marcus say. His voice sounded hollow and faraway, and I didn’t believe anything from the man’s mouth anymore. Even his true blue eyes seemed like a lie.

  “I believe you,” I whispered dishonestly, not wanting him to think I was afraid of him even though my fear was as clear as a shallow stream.

  “Ah damn it, I shouldn’t have told you. I should have just said I was accused of robbery or drug dealing.”

  “Convicted,” I corrected him. “You said you were convicted, not accused. Those are two very different things.”

  “Not when you’re innocent they’re not!” Marcus shouted as I immediately regretted my statements. Better for me to stay mute than to wake whatever beast was dormant in this man.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was saying,” I offered feebly, my eyes roaming desperately towards the horizon, looking for a possible escape. But the countryside was harsh and unkind, brutally inhospitable.

  “It’s okay,” he said more softly, lunging forward in a way that made my heart freeze. “What can I do to make you believe me? Damn it, if we could only get on the internet, I could show you everything.”

  Ignoring his last statement, I started to piece the puzzle together, finally realizing that he was an escaped convict. The impact of the word “murder” had initially left me numb, perhaps even dumb, as I didn’t factor in why this man wasn’t in prison anymore.

  “How did you escape?” I dared to ask.

  “Long story. And a story that I can never tell anyone. I’m not going to rat out the guys who helped me get my freedom back. And I’m not going to relinquish my freedom ever again. No one’s going to lock me in a cage. I got my freedom, and I intend to keep it,” Marcus rambled on as a chill permeated the air, and leafy trees fanned a cold gust in my fac
e. Noticing my cold, Marcus blurted out, “Get used to the cooler weather, pie baby, because it’s going to be a lot colder in Canada.”

  “Excuse me?” I squeaked, partially disgusted from his derogatory nickname for me and wholly incensed by his insinuation that I would be accompanying him to Canada.

  “I can’t stay in the United States anymore. They’re too hot on my trail now. I’ve gotta get to Canada, and I’ll look a lot less conspicuous with a nice lady on my arm,” Marcus reasoned as I glared at him, my previous fear boiling into anger.

  “You selfish ass, do you really think I’m going to go to Canada just so that you can look ‘less conspicuous?’ I have a life of my own back in Washington, not to mention a business to run. As soon as the sun comes up, it will be easy for me to get out of Idaho and find my way back…” I trailed off, knowing I should have kept my fat trap clamped shut. Now my enemy knew my plan, and he was not happy with it.

  “I told you before, Becca. I don’t want to force you to do anything, but it seems like you’re leaving me with no choice. I don’t want to drag you to the Canadian border, but I will if that’s what it takes to get you there with me.” Marcus spoke levelly and matter-of-factly, defying the madness of his words with his calm demeanor.

  I looked down at my still muddy feet. My once clean white tennis shoes were dirty, but they were more than fit for running. True, Marcus was half a foot taller than me and athletically built, but that didn’t account for my fear and adrenaline. Not to mention my fury. With all those emotions rising to the surface, I might be able to run like Jackie Joyner Kersey…if only just long enough to get away from this escaped convict.

  Before I knew what I was doing, my rubber soles had hit the concrete, and I was running faster than I knew myself capable of. My 8th grade biology lesson about cheetahs, the fastest land animals on the planet, lit like a rocket in my mind, driving me to sprint even faster. I imagined myself as a sleek, graceful cheetah with sunfire fur and raven spots becoming a blur as my speed climbed to inhuman levels. Distantly, I heard Marcus yelling and cursing behind me, apparently caught off guard by my escape as well as by my wild speed.