Read Online Cracked to Death by Cheryl Hollon - Free Book Online Page B

listened to the news only during the short commute from her Craftsman bungalow to work. Her goal was to keep up with the major news in the Tampa Bay area, and the time spent listening in the car was usually just enough to give the appearance to her customers and students that she was somewhat tuned in to the real world. It was certainly enough news to make her question the viability of the human race.
    She turned down the alley behind the shop before she remembered that Amanda would open up Webb’s today, since she was teaching in the morning, while Savannah would go and open up the studio. But who was she kidding? Since his pub was right next door, Savannah really hoped to see Edward again. His breakfast omelet with cheese and onions had been amazing, but he had returned to his condo at the crack of dawn to feed his kitten.
    I won’t admit it to him, though. I’ll claim I wanted to support Amanda on her second day of instruction in the new class.
    She was pulling into the parking spot in the back of Webb’s when the radio announcer said, “The police department is asking for any information about a missing diver. The general description is a young man of medium height, with olive skin and light brown hair. Citizens are asked to call the tip line with any information that would help the authorities identify the body that washed ashore early this morning.”
    Today will be a horribly bad day for some poor family.
    She unlocked the back door, keyed in the alarm code, and turned on the lights throughout. Since she had taken over the shop after her dad’s death, this had become a comfortable routine. It surprised her with its feeling of belonging.
    Dropping her backpack on the antique oak swivel chair in her office, she did a quick cleaning in the bathroom and followed with a quick sweep of the floors to pick up any major glass shards. The cleaning service came twice a week, but she was more comfortable with a daily roundup. Glass splinters were sharp, and you could never be too careful.
    Where’s Amanda? She should be here by now. It’s not like her to be late. I hope her mother is all right.
    The next stop was the kiln in the supply room, but as she reached for the large bar across the front of it to lift the heavy lid and see the results of the overnight run, she stopped.
    Nope. This is Amanda’s job now, not mine. I won’t spoil the pleasure of being the first one to look into a kiln she has personally prepared for firing. That’s the best part of the job.
    The next task in opening the shop was to fire up the cash register in the display room. She crossed her fingers and pressed the ON button. She heard the ancient computer groan with reluctance, while the protesting fan wailed a high-pitched whine for a moment, until it dropped to a humming drone. At last, the screen flashed bright with the main page of Webb’s Glass Shop.
    As a custom product, the register worked, but it was time to upgrade to a modern application that would handle both the shop and the studio. She sighed at the thought of what her accountant would say to yet another expense to replace a working system. Savannah thought her own arguments were good, but Burkart always had another viewpoint, one that usually required financial restraint on Savannah’s part. Anyway, the upgrade would support better inventory control and therefore would result in more turnover and profit. But money had been a bit tight since the purchase of the warehouse for the studio.
    The last bit of routine was to unlock the front door and turn the sign from CLOSED to OPEN . She glanced at her watch. It was already nine o’clock.
    Where is Amanda? She said everything had settled down with her mother.
    She pulled out her cell and dialed Amanda. It went straight to voice mail.
    â€œHey, Amanda. Is everything okay with your mother? Let me know what’s going on.”
    Savannah ended the call. Amanda was probably on her way.