Dangerously Dark (25 page)

Just then, though, Danny didn't seem up for strategizing. Especially about Lauren. He handed back Declan's phone.

On its screen were several mushy, suggestive texts from Lauren to Declan. I read a few, then frowned. “Sorry, Danny. But this is the past, right? Lauren has moved on. With you.”

“Maybe.” He looked at me. “She's been sneaking off with some other guy during the tour. They're pretty secretive.”

Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
I remembered him from today.

“It's probably nothing. I'm sure there's a reason.”

Like plotting a murder
, I thought darkly.
Or cheating.

We lapsed into silence, Danny morose and me irate. If he had serious feelings for Lauren and she broke his heart, there'd be hell to pay. I'd make sure of it. You know, short of murder.

If nothing else, I'd
definitely
give her a talking-to.

Feeling helpless to make my longtime friend feel better, I decided distraction was the best policy. I searched my (soon-to-be-replaced) stand-in purse and pulled out my own phone.

Its screen showed a waiting message. Thinking it must be Travis getting back to me with the background information he'd promised to dig up on the Cartorama vendors, I opened it.

It was a text from Austin. I didn't know how I'd missed it earlier—maybe because I'd thought my phone was “still” locked.

The message stopped in midthought, just like that.
More.
I shivered and stared at it for a second, feeling oddly numb.

It was possible I was in shock. It seemed likely that Janel's “accident” had been nothing of the kind. Austin had likely been too upset to notice he hadn't finished writing the message. I figured he'd sent it to everyone at Cartorama at the same time. But would “everyone” show up when Janel needed them?

I didn't know. But I did know
I
was showing up.

After the “accident”
I'd
had, I wanted to know more.

I showed Austin's message to Danny. “I'm going. I'll take my rental car. I'm assuming Providence Portland is a hospital?”

“I know where it is.” He grabbed his jacket, not even bothering to give me a token argument about who was going to drive. I guess he could discern that it was me. I was in no mood to indulge in banter. I wondered how badly Janel was hurt.

We hurried through the dark night in silent unison. As we slid into my rented Honda Civic, my phone dinged, startling me.

I looked:
Don't worry about tour. Shutting down tomorrow,
Carissa had texted me.
It's too much. Already canceled w/attendees.

I hoped she hadn't canceled with them via text message, the way she'd told me. I shook my head, feeling . . . confused. And kind of
used,
too, frankly. After all Carissa had gone through to strong-arm me into taking over Declan's chocolate tour on an emergency basis, now she was
closing
Chocolate After Dark?

Just like that? With no warning at all?

She could have at least called me to break the news.

“I don't believe this,” I blurted, handing the phone to Danny. “What about doing the tour ‘for Declan'? What about not disappointing Declan's customers and investors? What about not wasting all the advance publicity he and Carissa had done?”

Danny looked grim. “What about the odd timing of this?”

“Huh?” I started the car and swerved out of my parking space. My foursquare was so old, it didn't even have a driveway. I asked Danny to direct me to the medical center, since he knew where it was. He was good with logistics. “What odd timing?”

“Carissa just happens to shut down the chocolate tour within an hour of Janel being taken to the hospital?”

I frowned. “Sure. That seems like a coincidence, but—”

“But maybe it's
not
a coincidence,” Danny theorized. “Maybe Carissa killed her cheating fiancé, then tried to kill the woman he was cheating on her with.”
Janel.
“Maybe after failing to kill Janel, Carissa decided to skip town in a hurry. Tonight.”

I tossed him a doubtful look, tired of his various “Carissa is guilty” hypotheses. “Sure, she did—after canceling the chocolate tour and texting me and the attendees to say so. That's a pretty polite and informative getaway plan.”

“I never said Carissa was a genius. Just a murderer.”

“Don't let her hear you say that.” I gripped the wheel, driving through the dark on rain-slicked streets. Fortunately, traffic was light, but pedestrians weren't. They slowed us down. “She'll go ballistic on you. She hates being called stupid.”

“Stupid is as stupid does. If she tried to kill Janel—”

“We don't even know what happened to Janel,” I protested, stopped at a traffic light and wanting to defend my friend. “For all we know, she got tangled up trying to take off her cheap wig and needed the Jaws of Life to set her free.” I told Danny about Janel's various disguises during the Chocolate After Dark tours. “She might be fine now. It could have
really
been an accident.”

Danny gave a doubtful sound. “Given the way things have been going around here? My money's on attempted murder.”

 

 

“It was a hit-and-run,” Austin told us with an anguished look. “Janel was riding her bike home after the chocolate tour. It was a little wet out, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

We'd been at the medical center for ten minutes at the most. Predictably, no one else was there—and I didn't think it was because no one else had received Austin's emergency text.

In the waiting area, the lights overhead were ghastly and bright. The three of us stood serenaded by faraway beeping medical machines and coded emergency calls, both of which echoed off the cold tiled floors. There were chairs—those standard-issue armchairs upholstered in fabric that was more durable than comfortable—but none of us had any interest in sitting in them.

Austin paced, plainly upset. Danny and I listened.

“Janel has a good bike.” Austin gave a choked laugh. “Well, she
had
a good bike—a one-speed fixie. I guess it's pretty well destroyed now.” He meant a fixed-wheel bicycle, popular among urban cyclists. They were light and fast. “Janel wasn't used to it, though. She kept trying to coast. You can't do that unless you have a freewheel. Maybe she kicked her trailing leg and lost control.” He wandered, then pulled off his beanie. He swore under his breath, looking down the hallway. “I don't know. All I know is, some asshole ran into her and then drove away.”

I went to him. I hugged him. “I'm sorry, Austin. Have you heard anything?” I searched his distraught face. “How is she?”

“I don't know yet. It's bad. They're still working on her. I think she's in intensive care.” He squeezed his beanie, then gave an agitated gesture. “First Declan, now Janel. What the hell, dude? I feel like I'm living in a freaking horror movie!”

“I know,” I murmured, patting his shoulder. “Me too.”

“I don't even know her family to call them,” Austin told us. “I was trying to take it slow with her—trying
not
to get all ‘I'm your boyfriend' too soon, like I did with Carissa.” He rolled his eyes, struggling for composure. He gave a harsh laugh. “I picked a really great time to become Mr. Cool, right?”

His broken expression was heart wrenching.

“You couldn't have known this would happen.” I remembered that Austin had gotten to know Carissa's family so well that he'd been the one to call them to come and comfort her after Declan had died. He probably didn't want to be friend-zoned again, this time with Janel instead of Carissa. “Hang in there, Austin. Janel is strong. She can come through this, right?”

“She wasn't a bad biker, you know.” His expression begged us to believe him. “Other than that coasting issue, Janel was really strong. We went out together a couple of days ago, all around Washington Park—you know, the zoo, the Japanese Garden, all that dumb touristy stuff.” He smiled wistfully, remembering. I couldn't believe I'd ever suspected him of killing Declan. He was too sweet. “Me and my old Trek CrossRip couldn't keep up.”

I guessed that meant Austin
had
moved on from pining for Carissa. I
hadn't
imagined the spark between them earlier today.

Danny stepped forward. “Were you together when this happened? Did you see anything? Did you get a look at the car?”

If I knew my bodyguard buddy, he was trying to build a case that Carissa had ruthlessly mown down Janel with her car. I wasn't having it. “You don't have to talk about it, Austin. Not now.”

“No,” he told Danny, manfully squaring his shoulders and thwarting my plan to shut down Danny in the process. “I wasn't there. I was just the last number Janel had called on her phone, so they called me when she got here. I haven't even seen her.”

The big man sniffled. He shook his head, gazing out the medical center's floor-to-ceiling windows as though looking for an answer. It wasn't possible to glimpse anything through them. It was too dark outside. All we could see was ourselves. We were all at loose ends, waiting to hear about Janel. I don't know what I expected Austin to say, but it wasn't what came next.

“Janel should have been wearing her favorite T-shirt,” he told us in a choked-up voice. His gaze met mine, earnest and worried. “It's neon yellow. You know? That crazy color they make reflective tape out of. On the back of it, there's a slogan.”

“Isn't there always?” I smiled, eager to comfort him.

Danny stood by, taut and muscular, having little patience for this. “You don't have to baby him, Hayden.” He frowned at Austin. “Look, if you think someone did this to Janel on purpose, you should tell us,” he told Austin. “We can help.”

I shot Danny a
shut up
look. We couldn't promise that.

Sometimes Danny can be
too
cocky about his abilities.

But Austin appeared not to have heard him. “The slogan was printed in reverse text,” he said, brightening. “You know, like an ambulance? You can read it in your rearview mirror, but—”

“—but not in person.” I understood. I patted him again.

“Yeah, anyway”—Austin broke off for a wobbly smile—”Janel's shirt said, ‘Please don't run me over.' She though it was
hilarious.
You should have seen her face when she showed me.”

Tears filled his eyes, then overflowed. I decided in that moment that Austin was way too softhearted to be a killer.

Danny was less convinced. He shoved a nearby tissue box into Austin's ample midsection. “Maybe whoever ran into Janel was too busy trying to read her T-shirt to watch the road.”

His sarcasm didn't register with Austin. “Maybe. Yeah.”

I'd been where he was—wanting answers, especially when something tragic had happened. I knew how comforting it could be to talk about the person who'd been hurt . . . the person you cared about. Austin wasn't so different from me. A lot shaggier and fonder of wearing hats, but aside from that, we were similar.

Danny caught a glimpse of my face and sighed. I knew what he was thinking—that I was being much too nice to a person I'd recently accused of killing Declan in cold blood. As far as I was concerned, Danny and Travis needed to quit being so cynical.

Just as I was about to tell Danny so, everyone arrived.

Well,
almost
everyone, at least. Better late than never.

“What happened?” Tomasz strode into the waiting area, wide-eyed and slightly scruffy. Five-o'clock shadow agreed with him.

“Janel was hurt,” I said, hoping to spare Austin the pain of reciting all the details again. I gave Tomasz a run-through, even as more Cartoramians filed in after him—Lauren included.

Conspicuously, Carissa was absent from the group.

“I'm so happy you guys all made it.” Austin blew his nose. He smiled shakily, seeming cheered to have his food cart family nearby. “When I sent that text and didn't hear anything—”

He broke off, his chin wobbling with incipient sobbing.

“Of course we came!” Tomasz said heartily. He clapped Austin on the back. “We're a community. We stick together.”

As Tomasz said that, I could have sworn several people's gazes swiveled to
me.
Suddenly, I felt like an intruder.

“We're just going to go, uh, grab a cup of coffee.” I pulled Danny nearer. My accomplice. “Anybody want anything?”

A dozen revolted expressions greeted my offer.

Oh yeah. I was in the land of coffee snobs. None of them wanted hospital-cafeteria coffee.

“Okay, then! See you all in a while. Be strong.” I held up my phone—
really
my phone. We'd left Declan's at my place. “Let us know if there's any news about Janel, okay? Thanks.”

I made my escape, veering toward the signs that said
CAFETERIA
on them. Danny followed in my wake, his tough-guy boots clonking unconcernedly on the sterile and shiny hallway floors.

He caught up quickly. “You
know
Carissa must have done this,” my bodyguard said in a harsh murmur. “She killed Declan, she took advantage of his business contacts, and then she took a parting shot at Janel on her way out of town. It all fits.”