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)
Arching a brow at him, she asked, “Thinking about finding your own treasure, agent? Too bad. You’ll get no help from me.”
“I’ll try to recover,” he replied drily. “Did you paint the cult symbol on the cars?”
“Yes. Marcus didn’t do as promised and keep his big mouth shut about the gold. He told his wife, among others. I feared he’d mentioned my name but figured I would come up at some point either way. As a lover or a collaborator. Or both. I hoped to make myself look as innocent as possible in the meantime. Who spray paints her own car?”
Made sense in a warped way. Still, a final question remained. “Why break into Jane’s home?” He poured her a glass of water. Might as well be a good host while grilling her for information.
She sipped and breathed deep. “I didn’t. I ensured Emma found enough evidence to suggest Marcus had stashed secret photos and videos of their affair at the cemetery, intending to blackmail her. I’d noticed your interest in her and hoped she would incriminate herself.”
Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Miller attended tonight’s event together hoping to snatch the supposed photos and videos of Emma with Hotchkins. But why follow Whittington? Unless they’d suspected her of lying?
Once the PA wrote and signed her confession, Conrad left the interrogation room to meet Barrow in his office. Pictures of the guy’s kids and finger-painted drawings covered the walls. The agent had earned the same certifications Conrad had, but those were nowhere to be seen. He’d never noticed the difference before. Now that he had, he thought he might want to make a few changes in his own workspace. There was a certain smiling face he wouldn’t mind glimpsing on his wall every day.
“How did the interview with Emma Miller go?” Conrad asked, sinking into a chair in front of his partner’s desk.
Barrow rolled away from his computer screen. “Unlike your witness, she listened to her attorney. Not her husband or Hagger, by the way.”
“You implying your interrogation was more difficult than mine?”
“I thought I outright stated it.” The other man smiled. “Why don’t you ask me the question you really want to ask.”
Very well. “Is Mrs. Miller pressing charges against Jane?”
“Mrs. Miller isn’t. As long as Ms. Ladling doesn’t.”
“Deal.” Conrad was certain Jane would agree. He planned to ask when he reached the cottage. If he survived the drive to her house, of course. At the moment, he felt as though he might burst out of his skin. He needed to get his eyes on her. Hug her. Ensure her safety and well-being. Then talk. Then kiss her and never stop.
He stood and headed for the exit, only to pause at the door. “And thank you, Barrow. I appreciate your help.” The nurse’s offer had probably come after some gentle prodding.
The agent leaned back in his chair and seemed to study Conrad with a mental magnifying glass. Satisfied with what he deduced, he nodded. “Good for you. She’s, um, quite the character.”
“Yes, she is.” Conrad was grinning as he trekked to his car.
Once he’d buckled in, he texted Fiona: Set out that extra plate. I’m on my way.
He all but vibrated with anticipation the entire trip to Jane’s front door. Finally, he was rasping his knuckles against the wood. As he waited, he braced against the frame. His ears twitched, different sounds registering. Thumping footsteps. Squeaking hinges. Suddenly she stood before him, the most wholesome, welcome sight in existence. Jane, wearing a fitted white tee, flowing pajama pants covered with Rolex’s face and fluffy slippers with cat heads. Punch.
Eyes wide and soft, she said, “Hello, Conrad.”
“Hello, sweetheart.” He smiled, everything right in his world. “Are you ready for our talk?”
She flashed him a return smile so stunning he forgot the things he’d planned to say. All the things blocking a possible relationship. Her cat. Conrad’s habit of protecting his heart. How she enjoyed inserting herself into every part of a murder investigation. At least that problem had solved itself. It wasn’t like Aurelian Hills was a hotbed of crime.
“What happened to immediate house arrest?” she asked with a smooth as silk voice that did things to him. “I’ve been looking forward to wearing your cuffs.”
The moment her words registered, he chuckled. Did she have any idea what she’d—
“I meant…I…you,” she sputtered. Oh, yeah. She’d figured it out. “I demand a trial first!”
"Excellent. I’ll grill you with questions.” The relationship talk of his dreams.
Except, panic flashed over her expression. “Um. I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t…” She darted her gaze in different directions. Oh no. The raisins were rising to the surface, no doubt about it. “I don’t think we should speak ever again,” she said, and he sighed. Yeah. Definitely the raisins.
Conrad intended to take Fiona’s advice and roll with the punches. Starting something with Jane Ladling was worth any trouble she tossed his way. He stepped forward, entering the house, forcing her to walk backward. “I’m starved, sweetheart. Let’s do our not speaking over blueberry pancakes.”