Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
“Sorry, sweetheart, but this is non-negotiable. Beau?” Conrad nodded at her friend. “Tell her.”
“I directed Isaac to the Tow Yard to look at the hearse. He sent me a text,” Beau said, tapping a button on the screen of his phone, then read, “Someone tampered with the exhaust system of Jane’s car, causing a leak of carbon monoxide into the cabin. At first glance, and considering the age of the hearse, the damage can pass as normal wear and tear. But the hole is too clean. Whoever did it is good, but I’m better.”
What! Someone had purposely harmed her? Carbon monoxide explained the fuzziness and the headache and why things had snapped crystal clear once she’d breathed in sweet, sweet oxygen in the ambulance.
But why? Who? “Isaac must be wrong. We would’ve caught anyone messing with the hearse on the Garden’s security footage.” Unless… Lucy had done it before banging on her door. But no. The loan officer wouldn’t. Would she?
No. No, she wouldn’t.
“The culprit could have worked while you were parked in town,” Conrad said.
Good point. She huffed, already rolling through other possible suspects. Everyone she’d seen strolling along the sidewalks. Any shopkeeper unhappy with her questioning. Robby, of course. Tiffany and Abigail, too.
Jane sucked in a breath. If anyone wanted her harmed, it was Robby, Tiffany and Abigail.
See! Not Lucy.
“I’m staying with you,” Conrad reiterated. “I’ll also be speaking with people in town.”
“Fine. I’ll pick you over pancakes, but only this once.” And she refused to ponder the immense amount of relief she experienced at the thought of being near him a while longer. Trembling now, she offered her hand to him, and her special agent linked their fingers. “But you owe me so big.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I always pay my debts.”
Jane was home, in pajamas, and stretched out comfortably on the couch by 5:00 p.m. with a full house by 6:30. Beau, Fiona, Trick, Isaac and Holden migrated to and from the kitchen, where Fiona made her world-famous pancakes. Getting both, after all! Sheriff Moore had launched an investigation from home. Meaning, he’d sent his deputies to town to question folks while he attended the Q and A via a smart phone.
Rolex and Cartier perched on the mantel above the hearth, both hissing at anyone who neared. They were just so stinking cute together.
Conrad sat on the coffee table, unwilling to leave Jane’s side or let go of her hand. He also quizzed her about her activities the past week, kissing her knuckles each time she answered. She tried so hard not to love it.
To the right, glass shattered. Jane jolted, then winced. Dr. Price had been wrong about being sore tomorrow. The pain had already arrived. Staying as still as possible, she slid her gaze over the living room—a vase lay in pieces beneath the mantel. Beneath Rolex, to be more specific.
Surely he hadn’t pushed it off. The little angel was, well, an angel.
“I’ll clean up the mess,” Beau said, already heading for the pantry, where the broom and dustpan were stored.
Conrad used his free hand to type a text to someone. It was then that she remembered his plan to bring Wyatt to tonight's dinner.
“Your brother,” she said with a groan. “Did I ruin your time with him?”
“No worries.” He brought her hand to his face and rubbed her knuckles against his stubbled jawline. “We’ve already rescheduled.”
Another mantelpiece knickknack hit the floor, and this time, Jane saw it happen. Yep, Rolex, her angel, was responsible.
“I think my baby is upset about our relationship.” She chewed on her bottom lip, her earlier fears rushing back. “What if this is a sign we should break up?”
“It isn’t a sign, Jane. I’m not going anywhere.” He released her at last, but only to drop two pills in her palm. Her prescriptions. Next, he passed her a glass of sweet tea. “Be a good patient. Take your meds.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” she said, because what else could she say? Down the hatch.
A knock hammered at the door, and excitement sparked. Must be Lucy.
“I’ll get it,” Trick said.
“No! Let Holden get it,” she rushed out, sitting up. Ow, ow, ow!
Frowning, Conrad cupped her nape and eased her onto her mound of pillows. “If I have to lay beside you and hold you down to keep you from trying to do too much, I will.”
“What kind of threat is that?” she muttered, wanting to smile. Bossy Conrad was so cute.
Another knickknack hit the floor.
“Why do I have to be the one to open the door?” Holden asked, even as he strode over and turned the knob. And there was Lucy, adorable in a red T-shirt and jeans. “Ah. Okay. I get it now.”
“Oh. You,” Lucy said, flustered as she edged around him, entering the foyer.
“Yes,” he replied, moving with her, ensuring they remained face to face. He was grinning like a big, bad wolf. “Me.”