Page 46 of Double Take

“No,” she said. “What aren’t you telling me about Amity?”

Chapter Seventeen

Where are you?For the umpteenth time, Amity pinged her friend’s tech-tab. Faith wasn’t responding, and Amity was getting worried.

Those men.She shuddered.

She’d spotted them skulking around Willow Wood. Strangers and newcomers always stood out, but it was more than that. They’d come by the shop just before she’d locked up for the day. They’d been too friendly, too curious, their ingratiating smiles as fake as cheese on the moon. When they started asking about Faith, her wariness upped to a five-alarm alert. Amity had parried their questions, telling them little other than the pottery artist was out-of-town indefinitely.

As soon as they left, she’d messaged Faith.

Nibbling on a fingernail, she paced her tiny living room. She didn’t know for a fact that those men were responsible for Faith’s failure to respond, but she couldn’t shake the awful suspicion they were. Now it was dark. Faith should have responded by now!

She told herself not to worry. Any number of reasons could explain why Faith hadn’t contacted her—she hadn’t checked her tech-tab, she was too busy oroccupiedto answer, or the message failed to go through. Comm service sucked on Terra Nova.

Or the men had found her.

I can’t take this anymore.She grabbed a coat and left. She’d wait for Faith at her cottage.

She doubted her friend would be at All Fired Up, but since the shop was on the way, she stopped in. Upon entering, she spied crates of pottery that hadn’t been there when she closed up.She did get back!

Was this a good sign or a bad one? Was her friend not checking messages? Or was she in trouble?

Her stomach in knots, Amity speed-walked the rest of the way.

The lights were on in her friend’s cottage, and Amity let out a sigh of relief.She’s home safe. She didn’t get my message. Or she’s busy with John.She turned to go—heaven forbid she interrupt an intimate moment. That would be embarrassing.I’ll see her tomorrow.

But shouldn’t I check? To be sure? I’m already here.

She marched up to the porch. Using the knocker, she rapped on the heavy wooden door.

Meow.Meow. Meow.

She could hear Rusty.A scratching noise drew her attention to the window. The cat’s ginger face peeked over the sill.Meow!He pawed at the glass.

Weird. He’s never done that before.Her gaze drifted beyond the cat into the parlor.A cloud of dark smoke hovered beneath the ceiling. “Fire! There’s a fire!”

“Faith! Faith!” Amity slammed the knocker and banged on the door with her fist then, not waiting for a reply, tried the knob. She’d brought her key, but she didn’t need it. The door opened.

“Meow! Meow! Meow!” Rusty wound around her ankles.

“Where’s your mama, Rusty? Faith! Faith! It’s Amity! Are you okay?”

No fire in the parlor. In the open adjacent dining area, the table had been set for two. Beyond it, smoke seeped through the bottom crack of the kitchen door.

“Faith! Faith! Answer me!” Amity approached the kitchen. She palmed the door. Not hot, so she eased it open a crack. Smoke streamed out but no burst of heat. She entered the smoke-filled kitchen. The door swung shut behind her.

Coughing a little, she rushed to raise the kitchen window to clear out the smoke and then turned off the oven. With a potholder, she opened the oven and removed a charred pan, tossed it in the sink, and turned on the faucet. Steam shot upward.

Two steaks prepped for the grill sat on the counter. Dinner had been in the works when she left.What happened? Where is she?

The knots in her stomach tightened. This wasn’t like Faith. She wouldn’t have gone off and left the oven on. If they’d gotten frisky and forgotten about dinner, the smoke would have alerted them.

Exiting the kitchen, she noticed Faith’s handbag on the hall tree by the door. She wouldn’t have left the cottage without her bag.

“What happened, Rusty?” she asked the cat.

He wound around her ankles but had no answers for her.

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