Chapter 7

While Beau tracked Lucy, Jane and Conrad hopped in his SUV and headed for Aurelian Hills Media.

Don't ask his opinion of your writing. Don't ask his opinion of your writing.

"Did you have a chance to read my chapter?" she blurted out.

A long pause ensued. Until… "I did, and your punctuation is outstanding. The talking tree is a surprisingly fantastic character."

That was it? All he had to say? "You hated it," she groaned.

He flipped his blinker and sighed. "Jane, there's three things I've learned in this life. Never let your mom mess with your hair when she's mad at your dad, never respond when a woman asks if she looks bad, and never do anything but encourage the woman you love when she's excited."

Jane slumped against the seat. "So you think I'm a hack."

He answered her with an even heavier sigh as he pulled into a space and parked. "You aren't a hack, and I didn't hate it. I very much enjoyed the peek inside your brain."

She rotated to face him. "Then give me something constructive. Don't hold back. I'm writing a pre-bestseller, and I need all the advice I can get. Plus, your opinion is important to me."

He pursed his lips but nodded. "Very well. One tip. Your detective heroine gets the forensics report too early."

"Are you sure? Because I read on the internet that–"

"I'm sure." He unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Fine. I'll fix it. Are you impressed with my maturity?"

He snorted. "Very. That's why I'll give you a second tip. Instead of combining all five Aurelian Hills murders in the opening scene, consider spacing them out and going through them one by one. That way, you're not throwing so many names and histories at readers."

Not a bad tip. If she started with Dr. Marcus Hotchkins, the first body she'd found, she would have more room to describe the ghost berserker. Yes! Inspiration struck, and she could hardly wait to write again. "Thank you, Conrad." She leaned over to kiss his lips.

"You're welcome." He was grinning as he exited and jogged around the car to open her door. Offering his hand, he asked, "Shall we?"

"We shall."

They hustled from the parking lot and entered the building, sweeping through the lobby. Shocker, Ashley waited for them at the reception desk. A first. The reporter tapped one blood-red stiletto against the tile floor, impatient. She tucked a tendril of curly hair behind her ear and waved at Jane. Noticing Conrad's presence, she pursed her lips. But she also motioned them over, letting them bypass security without checking in.

Ashley led them down a hallway and into her office. A wall of monitors dominated the small room, all displaying various threads on the Headliner. As usual, she'd covered up her white board with a sheet secured by binder clips, and oh, Jane longed for a peek. She and Conrad claimed seats on one side of the desk, and Ashley sank into the chair on the other.

All business, the reporter linked her hands, rested her weight on her elbows and leaned forward. "I'm not revealing a single piece of information until you issue a statement about discovering Ms. Thorton."

"That's funny, because I'm not giving a statement until you offer proof of your own innocence." Two could play this game.

Hmm. Did Ashley enjoy playing other games?

"That is proof I require as well." Conrad, being Conrad, adopted his cold detective face. He withdrew a notebook and pen from his jacket pocket and flipped to a specific page. "You were seen visiting the tearoom the morning of the murder."

She was? Jane had clocked Ashley's presence in the crowd but hadn't known she'd visited Hannah earlier that same day. Um, why hadn't the good sheriff told her of this development sooner?

Conrad's focus on Ashley remained steady. She peered back at him, unwavering.

Not knowing what else to do, Jane joined the staring contest. The three of them continued their silent showdown. Only the hum of the computer fan filled the small space.

"Fine!" Ashley burst out. "You convinced me. I'll talk first." She stood and moved to the white board, lifting the covering to reveal candid photos of Hannah, Mason and Abigail. "I've been working on a story I've titled Gold Rush Murders. It's about the men and women of Aurelian Hills who recently met violent ends because of the deadly combination of greed and a relationship gone bad. Dr. Hotchkins. Anna Irons. Anthony Miller. Even Josh Gunn and his love affair with his job."

"How does this connect with Hannah?" Jane asked, only a little—lot—envious over Ashley's amazing title. "Also, I should probably mention I'm a writer now, and penning a similar story from a different angle. Currently, there's a sexy ghost berserker in the mix. I just wanted you to know. So please, do continue." Bonus: maybe something the other woman said would spark Jane's imagination, and she'd finally figure out her book's ending.

Ashley waved a hand through the air. "I'll deal with your toe dip into writing later. My story deals with real people going after other people's money. Hannah—" She used a pen to specify the teashop owner "—is a focal point. The morning of her death, she returned a text I'd sent the night before, agreeing to be interviewed at the shop. But when I got there, she pretended to be surprised by my presence and my questions about her attempt to get a cut of her ex-husband's inheritance."

Wow, wow, wow. Information bombs exploded, one after the other. Motives abounded for both Abigail and Mason. And he did fit Lucy's description of the killer. Perhaps Jane was right in the beginning, and he and Abigail had worked together, both getting revenge against their enemies. But were they capable of hunting Lucy? And what had kept Lucy from calling Jane with the killer's details? Why arrange an alley meetup?

Okay, she would ponder Lucy later.

Why hadn't Abigail and Mason attempted to frame Jane for Hannah's murder? Wouldn't that be true revenge? Abigail got rid of a potential romantic rival and pinned it on the girl she'd viewed as a pest since grade school. Also, how was playing cat-and-mouse like this revenge? Unless the game was meant for Conrad, while he mourned Jane's death after she'd succumbed to her injuries? An idea she had dismissed after opening the red envelope. Exactly what the killer hoped?

"I'd like to check your phone," Conrad told Ashley.

The reporter keyed up her cell and showed him the exchange.

He made a notation on the pad after eyeing the screen. "That isn't Ms. Thorton's number."

She gaped. "I communicated with someone pretending to be Hannah?"

Score another point for the killer.

Conrad ignored Ashley's question and returned to his own track. "Detail Ms. Thorton's response to your questions for me."

"After an initial breakdown, Hannah admitted the Treasure Room had been hemorrhaging money for a while, and her ex was blowing his inheritance on a quote unquote cash stealing cow. Hannah felt he owed her for all the wasted years she'd devoted to their marriage and thought she had good legal standing for a case."

Hannah had confessed to all that? To a reporter? Jane wasn't convinced. Could Lucy verify? "Was anyone with her?" Had Ashley spotted the former bank loan officer?

"No, she was alone, as far as I could tell. And when I left, she was alive. Security footage will prove this. She walked me to the door and locked up."

Locked up? And yet, Jane had strolled right in.

Conrad made another notation. "How did you originally discover Hannah's intention to gain access to her ex-husband's money?"

"An anonymous source alerted me. And no, I'm not just saying that. I don't know their identity. They kept it a secret." Ashley's gaze shot to Jane. "Why did you visit Ms. Thorton?"

"I was invited to the book club." Jane scooted to the edge of her chair. "How did the source keep their identity secret?"

"Some kind of voice disguising device."

Ding, ding, ding. The same device used by the murderer, who then called the authorities to report Jane's injuries?

"Have you spoken with Mr. Thorton or Abigail Waynes-Kirkland regarding your story?" Conrad asked.

"No, actually." Ashley shook her head. "I haven't spoken to either of them. Yet."

Wow. Another surprise. Had Mason and Abigail not known of Ashley's story? Or had they heard the rumors and decided to strike while they had plausible deniability?

Say neither of them was the whistleblower. Who was? Someone attempting to set them up? Or someone they'd paid?

Paying a source allowed the pair to distance themselves from the reporter. Or was the informant genuine? Ohhh. That line of thought had fuel in the tank. The mayor or his son, Jacob, were ideal candidates. Didn't Jacob sit on the Headliner's board of directors? He could've learned of Ashley's work-in-progress story and called with a tip to help her out. And he'd already proven he might be callous enough to deprive book club members from hearing Jane's speech by blocking her hiring, so. He was obviously a monster. Not to mention a co-stalker with his dad.

Jane really, really wanted to observe Ashley with the book club members. Would anyone be observing the reporter in kind? "You should come to the book club memorial for Hannah tomorrow evening. I'll text you the address. I can't say the killer will be there, but I can't say the killer won't be there, either."

Intrigue lit the reporter's eyes. "Oh, yes. I'll be there."

Conrad handed over his card and stood, then helped Jane to her feet.

"I have three of these already," Ashley pointed out.

Conrad appeared unbothered. "Then it should be easy to find my number when needed."

They made their way to the exit, not saying anything until they were buckled in his SUV. From behind the wheel, he said, "Waynes-Kirkland is the one who mentioned seeing Ms. Katz enter the Treasure Room."

Interesting. "Do you think Abigail and Mason are hoping Ashley takes the fall? Maybe they sent her that text to invite her to Hannah's. Though they would also need to invent a good motive for Ashley to kill Hannah. Though creating her own story to promote her book is a good one."

"I don't have answers yet, but I'll learn how the mayor is involved. If he's involved." Conrad pressed the ignition button, firing up the vehicle's engine. "I'm even more eager to schedule an interview with him and his lawyers to see what shakes out."

She remembered the mayor's interview during the last case. He'd refused to speak, and his team of representatives had revealed nothing.

"We're missing something," Conrad said. "I sense it."

"My gut agrees." But what hadn't they considered? Jane ran through her list of suspects and possible team ups. Abigail. Mason. Abigail and Mason. Maggie. Maggie and Abigail. Jacob. The mayor. The mayor and Jacob. What of Jacob and Maggie? Or Jacob and Abigail. Or Jacob and Mason. Or Jacob, Abigail and Maggie. Perhaps all six had worked together. Or some unknown individual was involved. Jane rubbed her temples in an attempt to soothe the sudden headache.

"Where to now?" she asked as Conrad eased onto the street.

"The station. I've gotta make some calls."

A thought occurred to her. "Do you know if Hannah's having a public funeral?"

He shook his head. "The family chose to have a private service at her home."

So no way to horn in. Drats! Although…

"You don't need to attend," he said, as if reading her mind. "You have a novel to write and off-the-wall theories to concoct to set me on the right course."

True. She also had a wedding to plan. Mostly, Jane had a game of cat and mouse to win.

* * *

Jane spent the rest of the day deep in thought, sleuthing, wedding planning and book plotting, still unable to create the perfect ending for her story. Conrad had set her up in the small area that was once reserved for the sheriff's assistant, a position cut long before Sheriff Moore had walked these ancient halls.

With the slew of murders that now plagued the town, the city council had approved a new hire. Since Conrad hadn't yet filled the position, Jane claimed the desk for herself. She even eked out chapter two of her book, but oooooh goodness gracious. She had to extract every word with a pair of invisible pliers. Why was writing so hard? And why did Donnie Eggerson have no online presence?

The phone rang on and off. She answered calls from her fellow Aurelian Hills citizens, fielding everything from the supervisor of Dashwood Farms, complaining of teenagers tipping the cows again to an illegal lemonade stand. How she loved helping. Bonus, the ringing phone saved her from having to write more. But mostly helping was the right thing to do.

She offered amazing advice, jotted down notes, and kept deputies from invading Conrad's space with non-case related issues. A lull in the calls came. Hmm. What else could she do to legitimately avoid writing—er, to help the love of her life? Jane snapped her finger. Why not pretty up the third floor?

Her phone beeped. Oh! A text had come in.

Beaudyguard: Your book is amazing.

Jane beamed, then slumped, Conrad's advice fresh in her mind.

Jane: Amazingly good or amazingly bad?

Beaudyguard:…

Beaudyguard:...

Beaudyguard: I want more talking trees. But also a legit reason for talking trees.

Jane was just about to ask him to explain himself when she realized she'd missed a few other texts.

Juniverse: Hiya sis!

Jane's brow wrinkled. Her baby half-sister, June Moonrose, was the oldest of her mother"s children with Arthur Moonrose. Arthur wasn't the love of her mother's life, which was the reason her marriage had lasted almost twenty years, sidestepping the Ladling Curse. Or so Jane had once thought. And nope, she had never been, not once, jealous that the name Moonrose paired perfectly with a cemetery. But until recently, Jane and June had rarely spoken. Why continue to reach out now? Because of the wedding?

Like all things that had to do with her sister, Jane pushed this into the background.

Tiffinator: Have you seen my corner rounder? It's nowhere in the cottage.

As if Jane even knew what that looked like.

Jane: I'll keep an eye out.

Fionality: I hear you're running the police station now. Jane, this is so wonderful! I have a feeling our crime rates are about to drop to 0%

Running the–well, not yet. No, no. Definitely not ever. She ignored the little flutter of excitement. Because she worked at the cemetery. And now authored stuff. Although Grandma Lily had always said the key to her happy marriage with Pops was doing everything together.

And dang it, Jane needed to ask Fiona to be her matron of honor. And yet still she hesitated. Why? There was nothing she would rather Fiona do. Right?

MommaSue: Jane!!!!!! You won a two hundred and fifty piece puzzle with a photo of you and Conrad!

It warmed Jane's heart how much Conrad's foster mother was enjoying the wedding planning.

MommaSue: It's for the reception. You give each guest a piece and they're invited to "Piece Together Love." Isn't that romantic?

Well. She teared up for a moment.

Jane: It is romantic indeed.

The elevator dinged, the door opening as her gaze flipped up. When she spotted the visitor, she jumped to her feet without thought.

"Christopher," she said with a smile and a wave. "Hello."

He did a double take upon his approach. "Jane. Hi." Quickening his step, he returned her smile with one of his own. "I didn't know you worked here."

No reason to explain the situation. Even out of his uniform, he carried himself like a man ready to charge into any disaster as needed. His jeans and T-shirt looked great on him but had never really meshed with her hats and vintage lifestyle.

When he leaned over to offer her a hug, she jolted. Um, okay. Unsure what else to do, she hugged him back, and it was kind of awkward for both of them, but it was too late to backtrack. When they pulled apart, they both laughed it off.

"The lava cake was delicious." He gave her a teasing glance. "Maybe the best thing I've ever eaten."

"Thank you." She beamed at him as she sank into her seat. "Hey, since you're here, I have a question. What's Donnie Eggerson's story?"

"Oh. Well. He moved here from Atlanta. Lives alone and loves video games. Doesn't have a girlfriend, and I don't think I have to explain why."

Loved video games, did he? Hmm. If she had written Mr. Eggerson into her story, he would've been the perfect red herring. But even better than a red herring—making the supposed red herring the killer. Hello plot twist! "Was he with you at the grocery store?"

"No. He was off that day."

Did he have an alibi for the time of the murder?

"Why?" her former flame asked with a frown. "Did he do something?"

"No, nothing like that." She smiled her sweetest smile and changed the subject. "How can I help you?"

"I came to speak with Sheriff Ryan, actually. I remembered something I saw at the Treasure Room."

Her cake had done its job! "He'll want to hear every detail." So did she. Jane picked up the landline and dialed into Conrad's office, a perk she'd learned to do earlier. As soon as he answered, she rushed out, "You've got an important visitor, and we're coming in. Okay. Bye."

She hung up before he could respond, stood, and led Christopher through the door, which was already opened. Conrad looked Jane over before standing and turning his attention to Christopher. The pair shook hands. Jane noticed not even a speck of jealousy sprang between them, which wasn't irritating. Nope. Not the least bit. Everyone took a seat.

Forearms resting on his desk, Conrad joined his fingers. "How may I help you, Mr. Wellington?"

"It's probably nothing, but here goes. I was the first to enter the Treasure Room, with another fireman, Brent Lancaster. Jeb Hathaway, who was with us, went through the front. Or tried to. It was locked, so we let him in once we came through the back."

"The front door was locked?" Jane interjected. Again? "You're sure."

"Very."

But. When she herself had stepped inside the building, it was unlocked. Even though Ashley Katz had specifically stated Hannah had escorted the reporter to the door and locked up behind her. Jane should have never been able to get in. But then there was Lucy. The wild card in all this. Lucy had run out of the secret room. Had the former bank officer gone through the front or back? If the front, she wouldn't have had time to lock it behind her. If the back, why lock the front while being chased?

And again, why hadn't Lucy called Jane with the killer's details? Why arrange a secret alley meetup when she feared for her life? Was she hiding something? Or playing a game?

Abigail had mentioned spotting someone matching Lucy's description leaving the shop. Had the socialite truly seen her or lied, hoping to cast blame? Lucy would be the perfect fall guy. A known criminal in Aurelian Hills that no one had spotted in months. Except, Abigail didn't know Lucy was in town. Or did she? Could the two be working together?

Jane didn't want to suspect her friend. So. Supposing Abigail had told the truth, which was highly unlikely, but still supposing… if the killer had followed Lucy out at top speed, intending to stop the only witness, Abigail would've seen him, too. But she hadn't. So, either he hadn't chased Lucy, Lucy had lied, or Abigail was covering for the killer. He could've hung back and locked up. Even cleaned up, putting Jane's phone in her purse. But why not kill her and finish the job? Unless he thought her already dead. Perhaps he'd never intended to kill her. He needed his player two, after all. But where did that leave Conrad in the equation?

Argh! So many roads to travel.

"I don't know if this matters, but I saw a pair of men's shoes near the back door. On the outside," Christopher clarified. "Jeb doesn't recall seeing them, though. They were dress shoes. I'm not sure what size. Over ten, if I had to guess."

Dress shoes. Over ten. Had the killer feared leaving prints on the store's floor?

"That's it," the fireman added. "That's all I wanted to tell you."

"Could you identify the shoes from a photo?" Conrad asked, making Jane think they weren't there when the police arrived.

"Maybe?" Christopher hiked his shoulders. "I glimpsed them once but didn't regard them as a thing of importance at the time. Maybe they aren't. But I've been replaying the event again and again." A shudder rocked his entire body. "I haven't been able to turn off the mental feedback, actually."

Jane's chest squeezed. She reached over and patted the top of his hand.

He gave her a small smile before telling Conrad, "I hope I've helped in some way."

"You have." The world's most perfect lawman stood, and Jane followed suit.

Christopher stood as well, and the two men shook hands again.

"I'll see you tomorrow at Hannah's memorial. If you attend, of course," Jane said.

"Yep. I'll be there to support Maggie." The fireman paused only a moment before saying, "Did you know Australia is wider than the moon by six hundred kilometers?"

"I didn't, but I do now. Okay. Bye." She smiled and waved, then hurried to open the door.

Her ex breezed through the opening. Brimming over with thoughts, she shut the door behind him, ready to dissect this dress shoe bombshell. But when she turned to face Conrad, he crossed his arms over his chest. Grim expectation etched his features.

"What?" she asked, looking left and right.

"Tell me everything you know about Christopher Wellington."