Too Sweet to Die by T. Doyle (namjoon book recommendations .TXT) 📕

Joe tossed his beer cap into the garbage. “Babe, a human trafficker probably cut your brake line.” His low voice growled.

“I’d rather not think about that.” I sipped the wine, cool against my lips but now flavorless. I walked to the living room and slumped into the couch. “I’d rather watch Longmire.”

Joe grabbed the remote and settled next to me. He turned on the TV and pulled up Netflix. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“I promise.” I cuddled close to him.

He hugged my shoulder. “Other guys’ wives just make the waiter angry, you managed to annoy an organized crime ring.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “I’m an over-achiever.”

He kissed the top of my head.

“And I’m a little scared,” I admitted.

“Me too. Taking a couple of weeks off and hiding somewhere is starting to sound like a smart thing to do.”

I twined our hands together. “No. The benefit of small-town living and everyone knowing your business is that I’ve got every single person in Forest Forks watching me right now. Besides, the guy scared me and killed Tyler so he has no reason to stick around.”

“Just the same, I think it’s time to stop asking questions. Not even Ingrid, okay?”

I craned my neck to look at him. His eyes pinched in the corners and a furrow seemed to set up permanent residence above his nose. “You’re frustrated you can’t lock me up in a cage while you’re at work, aren’t you?”

His lips twitched like he was fighting back a smile, but it erased the furrow. “Maybe a little. I need you, Babe.”

“You’ve got me. I’ll be safe. No cage locking required.”

I felt like a celebrity after church on Sunday. People approached me concerned about my brake lines being tampered with or asking if it was true the FBI consulted me about Oscar’s death. I didn’t admit the FBI considered me a murder suspect and wanted my alibi for the time period when Tyler Rigby was murdered. Mrs. Ingersoll, an ancient retired third-grade teacher, was certain I should take Liz’s advice and disappear. She offered me her time-share in Maui. I’d never met Mrs. Ingersoll before but I thanked her for her offer and concern. I loved Forest Forks and how the community supported each other.

We had an awkward lunch with Joe’s family at Momma’s. Angela couldn’t look at me and didn’t say much.

My father-in-law, Chuck, hugged me. “Angela’s friends with a lot of the other adoptive parents, honey.” He tilted my chin to meet his eyes. “She loves you, and she doesn’t blame you, but she’s grieving for her friends, too.”

“I feel awful,” I admitted.

Chuck rubbed my back. “It’s going to be okay. It’ll all work out. You just need to have faith.” He kissed the top of my head. “And whatever you can’t handle, you just give over to God. He’s got your back.”

“I love you,” I whispered against his chest. He was the best man I’d ever met and always knew how to make me feel better. I was lucky to have him as a father-in-law and the grandfather to my children.

“I love you, too.” He stepped back and eyed his quarreling children. “We all do.”

Liz stood, both hands held high, to quiet the fighting. “Look, I’ll make a list of places Charlie can go and organize everything.” She nodded at Joe. “I’ve heard from five people already who have cabins or condos where she can hide. I’ll get the keys and directions and tell everyone that’s where Charlie is going. Then you guys take off somewhere else.” She shrugged. “It’s simple.”

I was present, but apparently not allowed to participate in the conversation or decision of “what Charlie should do”.

Joe, my sweet husband, rather than disagreeing with his bossy sister said, “Thanks, Liz.”

So, while Mike and Anisa argued over where would be the easiest to live on the lam, Ian and Momma worked out a budget so that I’d bring enough cash to stay off-the-grid.

“They mean well.” I pressed a fresh glass of iced-tea into Joe’s hand. “But I’m going to work on Monday.”

“I know.” Joe winked at me and put his iced-tea on the kitchen counter. He made a show of pulling his phone out of his pocket and replying to a silent text. “Hey guys, we’re gonna head out now.”

“Now?” Liz’s eyebrows shot up and I expected them to hover above her head like a cartoon character’s.

“Yes. It’s got to be very hush-hush, and with the FBI involved we really can’t go into detail.” Joe looked at his watch. “We’ll contact you when we can, I promise.” His sincere doctor-tone really sold the story.

We hugged and kissed everybody and hurried outside. Buckled in the car with the windows closed and half-way down the block I finally relaxed and slapped Joe’s shoulder. “You are going to be in so much trouble when your family discovers you lied.”

“Nah. I’ll text everyone tomorrow at lunch time. Want me to tell them the truth or that we’re in Bogota?”

“What I really want is for them to stop worrying. Although, if you told Ian the FBI made our clones and we’re really in Saskatchewan but he can’t tell anyone else, it might make up for him convincing Ann there are ghosts in our house.”

Joe grinned. “I like it. I’ll tell him the FBI needed twenty-four hours for the clones to mature.”

“Like that episode in Black Mirror.” Black Mirror was a sci-fi Netflix series our son, Drew, insisted we’d love. Drew was very wrong.

At home, I paced. Anxious energy needed to be burned off, but I was scared to leave the house. I felt like a target, waiting for a drive by shooter to roll down the street. For the first time in my life, I wished we had a fence around the yard.

I forced myself to sit at the kitchen table and search through Pinterest. Usually, I’d search for a recipe and accidentally spend hours of my time clicking on unrelated but pretty pictures with interesting articles. But