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In the empty box, I find a piece of paper.

She left behind the title of her car?

Cinnamon Jones.

Is this some ploy?

I grab it, eyeing the crockpot warily.

There is a very faded clicking that gets louder the closer I lean to it.

This is a bomb.

She has it set to twelve hours on simmer.

There are a few choices I could make here.

I could unplug the crockpot, take it with me. Let these men walk out of here alive and well.

I could leave it at the time she has set.

Or…

***

Driving out of the woods I hear it before I see it.

Kaboom!

32

The Food is Dynamite

Cinnamon

Orzo has been blowing up my phone.

I finally answer it when I turn back on the road into town.

“Where are you?” he barks.

“On the way to you?” I add the duh in there.

“You—where have you been? Your service was off,” he snipes back.

I heave a sigh. “Orzo, this isn’t what we’re going to do. I was working.”

“Working?”

Anxiety does somersaults in my gut. “Yeah, it wasn’t great.”

There’s a loud shout in the background followed by fireworks? Car backfiring? Surely it can’t be…

“Where are you?” I ask.

“Working,” he heaves out.

“Should I not come over then?” Maybe it’s best I don’t. He is already giving overprotective boyfriend vibes.