A third vehicle arrived, and a tall, solemn-looking man got out, striding over to Sarah. She was now sitting at the end of the paramedic vehicle while they treated an abrasion on her elbow. Though he wore plain clothes, he had a badge attached to his belt.
“Hey, coz, what happened?” he asked.
“A motorcyclist brushed against me and I got knocked over. I wouldn’t have even fallen if I hadn’t been off balance. Everyone is making too big of a deal about this, Zach.” Yet her voice had risen, suggesting she was more agitated than she wanted to let on.
“Somebody tried to snatch the bank deposit she was carrying,” Tyler interjected. “I saw it clearly.”
Sarah remained pale as he described the rider, which wouldn’t help with identification. Despite the warm day, the biker had been wearing a bulky jacket, gloves and helmet. Tyler couldn’t even confirm the person’s sex. On top of that, nobody had spotted any distinguishing insignia on the rider’s clothes or motorcycle.
“We have a bulletin out to watch for bikes of that description, but it’s probably long gone now,” Zach said.
The paramedics advised Sarah to see a doctor but didn’t think she needed to be transported to the local medical clinic.
“Hey, Millie,” she called, waving to a woman hovering at the edge of the crowd. Tyler recognized her as one of the cooks he’d seen working in the kitchen. “I’m all right and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Though Millie nodded and walked back toward Sarah’s Sweet Treats, it was clear that she’d rather stay. Frankly, Tyler thought they had too many onlookers. The officers seemed to agree because they were urging the crowd to disperse.
Sarah was keeping a death grip on the envelope and looked at Tyler blankly when he offered to put it in the bank’s night drop box, just a few feet from the paramedic’s vehicle.
“Oh. Yeah.” She glanced down, then held it out to him.
“Just a moment,” ordered Zach. “Sarah, how much cash is in there?”
“Twelve hundred seventy-two dollars and fifty-three cents. Also some local checks.”
“Who knew you were bringing the deposit down here?”
“Practically everyone knows I take care of it around the same time each evening.”
Zach looked exasperated. “Routines make you an easy target, Sarah. Until we get this sorted out, call the station and I’ll send an officer to escort you or come myself.”
“I really don’t think the rider was trying to steal it,” she protested.
“That’s your Pollyanna nature speaking. Witnesses say otherwise, and it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Tyler took the envelope and dropped it in the deposit slot. If he’d thought a small town like Glimmer Creek couldn’t provide any excitement, he’d obviously been wrong. But this was one form of excitement he could do without.
SARAH WAS MORE SHAKEN than she wanted to let on in front of her cousin and Tyler Prentiss. She didn’t want to believe someone had been trying to rob her, but the scared part of her—the one that had been getting silent calls at night and a complaint called into the city—wasn’t so sure.
One minute she’d been enjoying the evening sunshine, and the next she was on the ground. Her arm hurt, and she suspected the rest of her body would protest once the shock had worn off.
Her own impressions of the motorcyclist were vague at best. She really hadn’t been paying attention.
Glimmer Creek was wary of motorcyclists. A few years ago, they’d had two biker gangs meet up in town and get into a fight, but Sarah had friends in Los Angeles who rode motorcycles and they were nice people. They just liked the freedom they felt on a bike. While some were more unconventional, that didn’t make them criminals.
“Shall I contact Kurt for you?” Zach asked, distracting her.
She shook her head. “I’ll talk to Dad myself. It would scare the heck out of him if you call, and I don’t need more drama tonight.”
“Okay. Who is this?” he queried, looking at Tyler.
“Tyler Prentiss. He’s staying at Poppy Gold, and his mother works for me. Tyler, this is Zach Williams, the Glimmer Creek police chief.”
Zach’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly as he shook hands with Tyler. He must have remembered Great-Uncle Milt saying that Tyler had caused a scene at the bakery.
“Hello, Mr. Prentiss,” Zach said coolly. “I don’t think Sarah mentioned that we’re related.” It was a not-so-subtle warning.
Tyler’s return smile was equally measured. “I figured it out when you called her coz.”
“Of course. Sarah, let me take you home,” Zach said after a final look at Tyler.
“Nonsense. My car is behind the shop, and I’m okay to drive.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. Call if you need anything.”
Sarah was grateful when the officials and most of the onlookers had dispersed. She glanced at Tyler. “You’d better get going, too. I’m sure Rosemary wonders what’s kept you.”
“Mom knew I was coming here to discuss your building. She’ll be more concerned if I return too soon. Besides, I haven’t finished measuring.”
“Maybe another time,” Sarah said firmly. She wasn’t in the mood for dealing with anything but the necessities, and Tyler was far from a necessity. While he might be a great architect, she couldn’t afford him.
He shrugged. “I’ll still walk you back.”
It was just a short way and the same direction as Poppy Gold, so she didn’t object. But at the entrance of the shop she stuck up her chin. “Good night. Thanks for coming to help.”
She quickly slipped inside and locked the door behind her.
“Sarah?” Millie called from the kitchen.
“Yes, it’s me.” Sarah went in and tried not to appear as frazzled as she felt. “Can you handle everything? I want to go home for a hot bath.”
“No problem,” Millie assured her confidently. “You don’t have to stay every night. We know what to do.”
“I realize that. There’s just a lot of work.”
“And you have us to do it.”
Sarah didn’t need more convincing. She locked up the credit card receipts, grabbed her purse and went out the back door. Each business on the block had a rear parking area, a perfect spot for the electric food-delivery vehicles. All she’d needed to do was install a special station for overnight charging—with few exceptions, Poppy Gold didn’t allow modern gas-powered vehicles on-site.
Automatically, she plugged the catering vehicles into the charger, then got in her car and drove home.
Once inside with Theo on her lap, she started to call her father’s cell, only to remember he’d said he’d lost it. So she dialed his home number. It was unusual to get voice mail—he was the early-to-bed type—but easier, too.
“Hey, Dad,” she said brightly. “In case someone else calls and tells you about it, I wanted to let you know there was a minor incident on Mariposa Avenue this evening. A motorcyclist drove too close and I fell, but I’m perfectly all right. I’m home now and going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”
Sarah disconnected