Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
The nurse crumpled into herself, as if weighed down by guilt and shame. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Tiff. But I loved him, too.”
The crowd congregated around the trio, enthralled by the drama and momentarily distracted from their search for gold. Conrad let the verbal confrontation continue. If someone admitted to doing something criminal…
He remained at the ready, however, in case things took a bad turn. Which they did in a blink. Wailing with misery, the widow threw herself at Mrs. Miller. They crashed to the ground and rolled, pulling hair and scratching. Actually, Hotchkins pulled and scratched. Miller accepted the abuse as her due. Or to gain public’s support, despite her past actions.
Conrad sighed and rushed over, but Jane darted ahead of him.
“No! Stop this!” she commanded.
He picked up the pace, his longer legs getting him to the combatants faster. He wrenched the battling pair apart.
Beau arrived shortly after, telling him, “Garcia led nowhere” as he assumed responsibility for the widow, who fought him and burst into sobs before crumpling again.
Conrad released Miller, but kept his focus trained on her, his number one suspect. She looked ready to bolt.
Where were Barrow and the deputies? Did they have a more pressing matter elsewhere? Was a guest doing something they shouldn’t?
Jane’s breath suddenly hitched. “You did it,” she snarled, dropping the lantern. Her eyes remained narrowed on Ms. Miller’s scab-laden arms. “You’re the cat endangerer. That, I know.”
The crowd drew closer.
“Jane.” Conrad kept his body aimed toward the on-comers, his arms stretched out in the universal stay back pose. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” He could imagine the options whizzing through her mind. Citizen’s arrest. Shouting match. Command Beau to dig a hole. “Stand down.”
She didn’t seem to hear him. With a quiet tone, she told Miller, “The only question now is whether or not you’re the killer. You were in my house, and you scared my baby. He could have died. He could have died as terribly as Dr. Hotchkins. Because of you.”
Conrad knew the second a bomb of fury exploded inside her. Her jaw tightened, and she balled her fists. Then Jane and her dress launched at Miller, and there was no stopping them. Boom! Impact. Once again, two women grappled over the ground. Difference was, Mrs. Miller fought back.
Beau had his hands full with the widow. Stomach in knots, Conrad moved to end the battle between Jane and her foe. From the corner of his eye, however, he tagged Mr. Miller, who barreled through the curious crowd. The attorney had his sights on the gravekeeper as she drew back a fist, intending to give Emma Miller a taste of her fury.
Mr. Miller lunged, sure to intervene. Conrad dove for him, stopping him midway. By the time they hit the ground, he had a firm hold on his target.
He flipped the flailing attorney to his stomach to cuff him and hopefully prevent Jane from landing her blow. Alas. She knocked her opponent out cold. And just like that, the fight was over.
As soon as she realized what she’d done, she grinned and jumped up, demanding, “Someone call Fiona. Tell her what I did. Oh, and maybe round up a visiting doctor. Or two.” She shook her hand and winced.
Multiple people cried, “Dr. Garcia!” Some shouted for Whittington.
Conrad cuffed the attorney’s hands behind his back. Mr. Miller wasn’t under arrest yet, but he had some explaining to do. And Jane? She hadn’t acted in self-defense when she attacked the nurse. If Emma Miller pressed charges, he must handcuff and take into custody the woman he planned to date.
“Emma did it,” Jane said, adjusting her gown and focusing on Conrad as he helped the attorney into a sitting position. “She’s my intruder. She might be the murderer too!”
“Maybe.” Probably. So why wasn’t he satisfied with the thought? “I’ll question her, I promise you.”
Caroline Whittington pushed her way through the crowd. “I’m here, I’m here. Who’s my patient?”
“Emma,” Jane announced, still so proud.
The medical professional got busy checking the nurse’s vitals. Hmm. No longer did she wear that bright yellow jacket. So where’d she ditch the coat and why? Without it, one couldn’t help but notice the black bodysuit suctioned to her slender frame. Was that a smear of dirt on her throat? Where had she been and what had she been doing?
“Take her to the clinic without jostling her too much,” the redhead commanded. “I haven’t found any signs of a concussion, but I’d like to do a more thorough examination considering the length of time she’s remained unconscious.”
Right now, the nurse’s well-being outweighed his need to keep his suspects close. And really, he had no legal right insisting either woman remain.
“I’ll carry her,” Beau said.
A gleam of calculation entered Jane’s eyes. She clutched her stomach and exaggerated a wince. “Oh no. Was I injured internally during the fight I just won? I should probably get checked out, too.”