Chapter 2

"Jane. Jane, can you hear me?"

A familiar voice yanked Jane from a sea of sweet nothingness into a beam of too harsh light. She blinked rapidly, attempting to shoo away the unwanted illumination. The opposite occurred, more and more shadows thinning. Soon she became cognizant of a dull ache in her head. Ow, ow, ow!

A face crystalized in front of her, and she frowned. Uh… Why was Christopher Wellington, her fireman ex-boyfriend, decked out in full uniform, hovering over her as she sprawled on the floor? And why were they inside the secret Treasure Room hideaway?

"Can you hear me?" he repeated. Concern knitted his brows together. A well-worn helmet perched atop his head, and the scent of smoke clung to him, as if he carried evidence of the past fires he'd tamed.

She tried to sit upright, but he held her down as gently as possible. "Whoa. Easy, Jane."

Still, she struggled. "What…how?"

"You must've passed out when you found the–" He went quiet and breathed deep. Being the professional he was, he quickly rebounded. His striking hazel eyes assessed her for injury. "You were unconscious when we arrived, and there's a nasty bump on the back of your head. At least the rest of you seems to be in good working order." His relief was palpable. "We'll get you to Pinetum Regional, though, where they can run tests and scans to make sure nothing's out of whack."

She'd passed out? But why? Jane darted her gaze, taking everything in, trying to put the clues together. Broken cups and saucers. Flower petals strewn across the floor. A toppled Queen Anne chair.

A second firefighter stood off to the side, filming the scene with a cell phone. He made sure to focus on her and Christopher. A third fireman snapped pictures of the only table where Hannah Thorton slumped— Hannah!

Memories punched Jane in the throat. Finding the body. Spotting Lucy, a former friend who'd stolen fifty thousand dollars during a case they'd worked on as a team. Then pain. Darkness.

Jane's hand flew to the back of her head, and she winced at the flare of discomfort. "I didn't pass out. I was clobbered from behind." Emotion clogged her voice. Had once sweet as sugar Lucy returned to town to kill Hannah? And go after Jane? But…

No. Lucy wasn't the one who'd struck her. Jane had noticed the other woman before falling. Of course, that didn't mean the former bank employee hadn't killed Hannah. Lucy could've worked with a new partner to do the deed, heard Jane's entrance and hid. After distracting Jane, Lucy waited for said partner to take out the only obstacle to escape.

No, there had to be more to it.

"I don't need to go to the hospital," Jane added, resolve straightening her spine. "I'm fine." She needed to be out there, solving this. Poor Hannah Thorton. Killed in her own shop when all she'd ever wanted to do was to make amazing tea for her neighbors to enjoy.

Merciless, Christopher shone a spotlight in Jane's eyes, observing her pupils. "I hate that you were injured, but unless you were aided in your fall, it's possible you sustained further damage than you realize. See a doctor," he intoned.

Hmm. Had the attacker caught her and eased her down before fleeing the scene? No, that seemed too far-fetched. Except she detected no other wounds. Maybe she'd gracefully lowered herself thanks to cat-like reflexes. No, that also seemed far-fetched.

"How are you here?" she asked.

"We received a call about an unconscious woman."

Had Lucy dialed 911 while running? Because no one but Lucy and said clobberer had witnessed the event. Right? And really, now that Jane thought about it, her former friend had appeared panicked before the unhinged assailant struck, as if she'd attempted to shout a warning. Forgive Lucy for lying to her in the past? Done.

Christopher timed her pulse. "We didn't expect to find Miss…" Sadness overtook his expression as he glanced toward Ms. Thorton. He cleared his throat.

"Yeah. Me, either." That sadness proved contagious, washing over Jane. Focus. You can't solve the murder if you're emotionally involved. When her gaze grazed the bowls of food and water in the corner, she asked, "Have you found Hannah's cat?"

He shook his head. "We haven't seen one."

The little darling must be in the shop somewhere. Jane hated the idea of a pet seeing its beloved mother dead. Rolex would be devastated at her death, but at least he'd have Tiffany, Fiona, Beau and most importantly, Conrad. And dang it, she wanted Conrad now! Needed to feel his arms wrapped around her. Yearned to hear his husky voice demand she be all right.

"I've got to contact the sheriff," she stated, easing up before the fireman could stop her. A wave of dizziness struck, but it didn't knock her over. Winning!

"He's been notified."

Excellent. "Then he should arrive any?—"

"Jane!"

"Second," she finished, her heart leaping.

Conrad raced over and knelt at her side. More heart leaping occurred as she gobbled up the most beautiful man in history with her gaze. Usually restrained dark locks now stuck out in spikes, as if he'd plowed his fingers through the strands again and again. Eyes the color of her Pops's favorite whiskey glinted with frantic concern. Tension pulled his tan skin taut and compressed his soft lips into a thin, grim line. He wore a crisp white button down and black slacks, his new badge dangling from a lanyard secured around his neck.

"What happened?" he demanded from everyone in the room.

"She fell," Christopher began.

"I was attacked from behind," she clarified. "I spotted Hannah slumped in her chair and rushed over to check on her. Right after I discovered she was dead, someone hit me. But Conrad, I saw Lucy Chang across the room."

Her fiancé's tension returned and redoubled as each word spilled from Jane, and she didn't have to wonder why. Her attacker might be the murderer. Had they gotten a good enough look at Jane to clock her identity? If they hadn't, they would certainly hear her name come up during the investigation. She could become a target.

"She refused a ride to Pinetum," Christopher piped up as he gathered his tools, ramping up Conrad's unease. "However, an ambulance is en route and due to arrive any minute."

"I'm fine," she repeated. After directing a dirty look at her ex, she reached over to link her fingers with Conrad's and give him a comforting squeeze. "Truly. I'd prefer to search for Hannah's cat and break the news about his or her mom."

"I love you," he said, dropping a gentle kiss on her brow, "but you're going to Pinetum. No arguments. For my peace of mind and the good of the investigation, let them run their tests."

Gah! The investigation. Her kryptonite, and he knew it.

He wasn't done giving her the hard sell. "I've got to stay until I secure the scene, but I promise I'll assign someone to find and care for the cat until you're well enough to break the news."

"Fine." Jane's thoughts zoomed in a million different directions wondering who could have done this. Maybe, with a little medical care, she could begin piecing puzzle pieces together.

"I've already spoken with Beau, but I'll send Fiona your way. They'll stay with you until I arrive," he promised. "I'll be there as soon as I finish here. I'll ensure your hearse gets home."

"And then we'll work the case together," she replied with a nod. "Deal."

He looked as though he wished to protest, but he didn't make the mistake of doing it.

Maybe because she added, "You know my batting average and could use the win as the new sheriff." Two could play hardball.

"Good to see your sass isn't bruised." He gently but firmly helped her to her feet, then handed over her fallen purse. Her legs proved surprisingly steady, all things considered.

Conrad gave her another kiss before reluctantly passing her to Christopher. As the fireman led her out of the secret room, the love of her life issued orders to his deputies. Decisive. Organized. A leader. Her heart swelled once more.

"Your fiancé is intense," Christopher muttered as they entered the public portion of the shop. One deputy snapped photos while another carried in forensic equipment.

"Isn't he?" she agreed with a little smile. It was a trait she hadn't expected to admire in a significant other. A trait Christopher had never exhibited. In fact, it was his easy, laid-back charm that initially drew her to accept his friendship, and later, a request for a date.

After the first romantic outing, they'd officially become a couple. She'd thought they were rock solid. So often they'd gotten lost in conversations revolving around everything and nothing. But after only two months together, he'd called her emotionally unavailable and dumped her.

The curse had used the situation to its advantage, encouraging her to build stronger, taller walls around her emotions. Then Conrad had come along with his adorable determination, and all those walls tumbled down.

"Did you know avocados are considered a fruit, not a vegetable?" Christopher announced."They're a single-seeded berry, if you can believe it."

"I didn't, but I do now." He'd always spouted random facts when they were dating. Nervous, excited, bored, it hadn't mattered. They just slipped out of his mouth.

"You're happy?" he asked next, pushing aside yellow crime scene tape and helping her step outside, seeming genuinely curious and hopeful. "Well, besides this." He motioned to the Treasure Room with a tilt of his head.

"I am," she replied. A not insignificant crowd gathered on the sidewalk, attempting to peer through the windows. Either the firetruck lights had drawn attention or word had spread via the Headliner. Or both. The small town gossip train never missed a stop. What would the chatterboxes think of seeing her with her ex while engaged to the sheriff?

"And you?" Jane asked, hoping to show she didn't wish him any ill. Christopher had made the right decision, cutting her loose.

"I am, too." He removed his helmet and rubbed his temple with the back of his hand. Sunlight washed over him, highlighting the coppers and caramels in his chestnut-colored hair.

He unveiled a more subdued version of the teasing glance she'd once sighed over. "Did you know?—"

"Jane, Jane! What did you see?" a familiar voice called from across the street.

An ambulance with flashing lights pulled into the lot, saving her from having to form a reply. It passed Conrad's haphazardly parked SUV, named Jel. Oh, wow. He'd been so concerned, so intent on reaching her, he'd left his precious vulnerable to theft. Yes, he was totally worth taking on the curse.

Near to the curb waited the fire truck, its lights still flashing. Firefighters controlled traffic and directed any new spectators to stay back. Was the killer among them? Anyone who killed a woman sipping tea was probably the type of person who'd hang around the crime scene to witness the aftermath.

Jane scanned the faces, memorizing as many details as possible. Only a handful of people she didn't recognize stood in the gathering. Ashley Katz, a reporter at the Headliner who happened to be one of Jane's favorite nemeses, waved emphatically, trying to get her attention. Had the curious woman listened to the police scanner, as she'd done in the past, or had she created a story to boost newspaper sales?

"What did you see?" Ashely repeated.

Jane pretended not to hear and continued her search. Well, well, well. There was her least favorite nemesis, socialite Abigail Waynes-Kirkland, Tiffany's former best friend and a literal grave digger. Like many town members, Abigail believed a prior Garden of Memories caretaker had buried gold with certain bodies. The reason she'd snuck over with a shovel to find it.

Had Abigail murdered Hannah in a robbery gone bad? Because that made more sense than anything.

"I know who's first on my suspect list," Jane announced, fishing out her phone to take discreet photos of the crowd, intending to study them later, when her head no longer throbbed. Wait. Hadn't she dropped her cell when she'd fallen? How had it gotten in her purse? "Did you retrieve my phone for me?" she asked Christopher.

"No. I didn't see it." His brow wrinkled. "Why?"

"Just because." Had the killer done it? But why go to the trouble? Why not leave the device behind or nab it and run?

Christopher gestured to the paramedics as they disembarked from their vehicle.

As the techs wheeled over a stretcher, Abigail noticed Jane's photo taking endeavors and made an obscene gesture, which she captured, thank you very much.

Her companion observed the exchange and shook his head as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. "I'd heard you were working with the police to solve murders, but I considered it a rumor until now."

"Why did you doubt?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"You're…you."

What did that mean?

"What are we dealing with?" the taller paramedic called.

Her ex explained the situation, and the two medics helped her settle on a stretcher she didn't need but wasn't going to waste time protesting. For the case. They wheeled her to the vehicle, Christopher keeping pace at her side.

"I hope this isn't the last time we speak," he said.

Maybe he'd meant the words as a token farewell. Maybe he truly wished to stay in touch. Either way, he'd just given her the perfect opener. "I accept your invitation. I'll come by the firehouse tomorrow. If you'll be working?" She had questions about what he'd seen when he found her.

He rapid blinked, as if she'd thrown him for a loop. "I will, yes, but–"

"Great. I'll bring you a dessert to thank you for your help today."

To her immense relief, he wasn't given a chance to protest. The ambulance doors were shut in his face, only for them to reopen a split second later and Beau to hop inside the vehicle. After viewing his fierce expression, no one asked him to leave. In a matter of seconds, Jane and company were on the road.

"You got here fast," she praised, so glad to have him with her.

"I came the moment I heard your name on my radio. I was already en route when Conrad called."

Beau's loyalty almost made her forget the pain in her head. Almost. Didn't help that the paramedic insisted she lay down on the gurney, and she bumped her knot on the mat.

"What do we know about Hannah?" Might as well kick off a Team Truth session, even if they were the only members present.

Beau folded his arms against his chest, his biceps straining the cuffs of his Peach State Security polo. "Nope. I share nothing until you're fully checked out."

Jane proceeded as if she hadn't heard him. "Recently divorced, so of course the ex is automatically a suspect."

True to his word, Beau remained silent.

No matter. Jane continued her speculations throughout the rest of the drive. Even as the paramedics wheeled her through the corridors of Pinetum Regional Hospital. "Mother of three adult sons. Hmm. I wonder who inherited the Treasure Room. Perhaps one or more of those boys was in debt and hoped to sell the cherished tea house."

Still Beau kept quiet. When they stopped in a curtained off room, Jane finally quieted, but only after the nurse who attempted to read her vitals huffed.

As soon as the exam ended, someone came in asking for Jane's insurance card. Then Fiona and Tiffany arrived.

After a round of hugs, Jane asked, "Do either of you remember if Hannah was dating anyone?"

Fiona tsked at her. "You should be resting, hon."

"How can I rest?" She scooched into a sitting position against the scratchy pillowcase. "I just discovered another dead body."

Tiffany offered a noise of disgust. "Because of course you did."

"Maybe someone has mentioned something on the Headliner," Jane said, fiddling with the edge of her paper-thin blanket.

"Fine. I know a hint when I hear it." The widow whipped out her phone. "I'll start searching now."

Beau glowered at her, while Fiona wagged a finger. "You're not supposed to encourage this, Tiff," the older woman said, clearly trying to remind her of a previous conversation.

Tiffany sputtered a protest. "You're paying me a stack of blueberry pancakes to distract her, and that's exactly what I'm doing."

With a sigh, Fiona clasped Jane's hands. "We're more interested in what happened to you. It's not like you to faint."

"I didn't. Someone hit me from behind." Her gaze swung to Beau. "You don't have security cameras installed inside the Treasure Room, do you?"

Her best friend shifted his weight from one combat boot to the other, still saying nothing.

"There's no such thing as security client privilege, you know. I believe I've mentioned that before."

His lips quirked. "You've mentioned it, yes."

She replied with a sunny smile. "Never mind. I've already followed the clues and deduced the answer. No, you don't. Otherwise you'd be with Conrad, watching the footage."

The color filling his cheeks answered for him. "I had a meeting with Hannah on the books for next week."

"Oh." Now that was a good tidbit of information. "Did she mention why?" A stalker? Harassment by her ex, perhaps?

"Shoplifting."

Well. That was disappointing, to say the least. Though it might point to Abigail.

"I'm honestly surprised it took this long for someone to whack you over the head," Tiffany said, scrolling on her phone.

"Let's put the investigation talk on hold until we've spoken with the doctor," Fiona suggested in a no-nonsense tone. "We don't even know what injuries Jane has sustained."

"Good advice," announced a woman in scrubs and a white coat as she swept into the small room. "I'm Dr. Lacipo, and I'll be checking you out today."

After Jane's friends filed out, the doctor got to work. With quick efficiency, Dr. Lacipo palpated the back of Jane's head, checked her pupils, her responsiveness, and her motor function. "No signs of concussion."

Jane heaved a sigh of relief.

"I'll initiate the discharge paperwork, but you need to take it easy for the next couple of days."

"Sure, doc." Wasn't like investigative work was hard.

"I'll be sending you home with a list of instructions. Follow them. Judging by the crowd waiting in the hall, you have someone to drive you."

"That will be me," Conrad said, striding past the curtain, his expression grimmer than Jane had ever seen it. Her stomach began to churn all over again.

He flashed his badge, and the doctor fled.

"What?" Jane demanded, hit by dread. "Did you not find the cat?"

"No, not yet." He sat at her bedside and took her hand. Did she detect a slight tremor?

"I've got men searching for Lucy Chang. We will find her, I promise you. And the cat."

Jane finally put two and two together. What if the feline was Lucy's cat Cartier? But why would Lucy and Cartier be in the secret chamber at the Treasure Room long enough to require a litter box? "What about the murder?"

The tremor worsened ever so slightly. "The killer struck Ms. Thorton from behind multiple times with a candlestick procured from her shop."

"A crime of passion then?" Maybe Hannah argued with a book club member who grabbed the nearest object within reach.

"No, this was definitely pre-planned." A muscle jumped in Conrad's jaw. "Her body was staged, a card placed in her hand, and the first chapter of a manuscript put under her elbow."

When he paused to draw in a breath, as if bracing himself, the moisture in Jane's mouth dried. Nothing he'd said should have caused this kind of a reaction. They'd solved worse.

What did he suspect? "Did you know someone called 911 to report my, uh, unawake condition?" That sounded better than unconscious, right?

"Yes, and I've listened to the audio recording. It most likely came from a burner phone. The voice is disguised." His expression grew grimmer and grimmer.

Had the killer called? Why disguise your voice, if not to hide your identity to cover a crime? For that matter, why call at all? "What haven't you told me?"

He tightened his hold on her, saying, "Your name was spelled on the purple envelope clutched in the body's hand. The letters were cut out of magazines."

She blinked with confusion. "My name? As in Jane Ladling?"

"Yes."

But. "That makes no sense." Unless Hannah premade a thank you card? "What did the contents say?"

"It was an invitation that read, Player one is ready. Are you?"

Player one? "So Hannah died for a game of cat and mouse between the murderer…and me?"

"Yes. But there's more," he added, and she groaned. "The dedication was included with chapter one, and it mentions you and a few other residents of Aurelian Hills."

"Like who?"

"Ana Irons. Anthony Miller. Marcus Hotchkins, and Joshua Gunn."

Alarm streaked through Jane. "But all those people are dead."

"Yes," he agreed with a flat tone. At least this explained his grimness. "From what we can tell by skimming, the story is a reverse cozy mystery. Instead of being told from the sleuth's point of view, it's seen through the eyes of a quote unquote good-natured killer."

Shocked, she could only mutter, "There's such a thing as a good-natured killer?"

"Never. Copies are being made, so you and I can read it while the original pages are processed. I know you're planning to interview your suspects, and nothing I say will stop you. But during this investigation, I'm asking you to always let me know your plans ahead of time and visit no one alone."

"Deal. Here's your first update. I'm speaking with my ex-boyfriend the fireman tomorrow. He's the guy who found me."

Conrad canted his head, and she had trouble deciphering his emotion(s). "The ex, huh?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you all about it one day." Her knot ached a little too much for such a deep conversation now.

"Good." He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I'm confiscating the book club invitation you received."

"Of course. It's in my purse." She motioned to the charming vintage handbag in a muted purple hue on the chair near the window. Delicate embroidered flowers adorned the surface and the decorative clasp shined. "Do you have any suspects?" she asked as he released her and stood. "Besides Lucy, I mean. And every member of the book club. Also Abigail Waynes-Kirkland. She's involved somehow. She must be."

"I'll look into her, but I'm not yet certain there's an actual club." He withdrew a plastic baggie and a glove from his pocket, then fit the latex over his fingers, collected her purse, and fished the invitation from the interior.

"I assume you'll start with the ex-husband," she said. Significant others were always first.

He nodded. "I like to press them hard and fast in the beginning to knock them out of the running, if applicable, so I can widen the circle."

As he fit the paper into the bag, Jane asked, "What did you mean, no club?" She had noticed how effortlessly he skipped over her question about suspects, but she simply chose not to push.

"From what little I read of the chapter, the killer, a woman, invites the owner of a landlocked cemetery to a teahouse to attend a fake meeting. The killer then strikes and kills the cemetery owner, causing a haggard detective to come out of retirement to try to solve the case."

Her jaw went slack. "I was supposed to die? As in, take an eternal dirt nap?" Before her wedding? Yes, she'd suspected this very thing. But still. Having it confirmed cut. "Does this mean the killer is actually playing with you? Are you supposed to be the haggard detective?" Outrage flared in her veins. Conrad was anything but haggard. Also, he better not be in danger.

"I'm not sure. Could be Raymond Moore."

The former sheriff, aka Fiona's boyfriend? That Raymond Moore? "But he's not haggard either."

"Perhaps the murderer hoped this book would cover a motive to kill Hannah Thorton. In any case, they could strike at you, me, or us again. Which is why I'd prefer you to move in with Cheddar and me."

Spending more time with her soon to be step-fur-child, whom she already loved as her own, did sound nice.

"You can give him a new nickname," Conrad added.

The little darling's list of endearments did seem to grow every time she came over. Cheddy and the Cheese Man were her personal favorites. She suspected Conrad preferred Mr. Cheese and Goodest Boy.

He wasn't done. "Since your last stay, I've installed in an unbeatable security system. No one enters without permission, even if they score a key."

Longing proved tempting. But. "I can't, in good conscience, leave Tiffany alone. The killer put a lot of thought into this exhibition, and they're willing to go to extreme lengths to succeed, even hurt the friend of a friend."

"Beau, or one of the guys, is moving into the Garden. They've already agreed. And it's only for a short time. Just until we solve the case. Which we will do faster than we've ever done before." Determination hardened his voice.

With all the bases covered, there was no need to consider it further. "Yes, that works." Jane felt safest with Conrad, and she adored the craftsman bungalow they'd picked out together. She'd even begun to wonder if–gasp–she should add a touch or two to suit her tastes, not just his. "You know what sucks most? Well, other than Hannah's murder. I didn't get to hear your poem."

Conrad barked out a laugh as he returned to her bedside. "Here's a little something off the cuff. You are more important to me than anyone or thing, and I require you to be alive. You put my heart into overdrive."

Eek! "Your talent for poetry is unsurpassed." A talent in need of protecting. If someone was out there, intending to hurt him, well, they were soon to learn the error of their ways.

Player two was ready. She wouldn't stop until the culprit was locked behind bars.