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“Obviously, we covered for each other. We were on the clock, but Brent took a lengthy call from his girlfriend and Jeb wasn’t exactly sober.”
“You used the hidden outside door to enter the Treasure Room’s secret chamber,” she continued. “After killing Hannah, you struck me. Then you did your best to place suspicion on Lucy, Maggie, Abigail, Jacob and even Donnie. Did you kill Jacob, too?”
“Yes, but only because he’d started to suspect me. I was there when he, Maggie and Abigail plotted out a story using you as their inspiration. When he realized the tale was coming to life before his eyes, he believed one of the other women was responsible. Until he caught me reading the manuscript.”
The moisture in her mouth dried. So Abigail and Maggie were innocent? They’d acted guilty because they’d done the plotting and had comprehended how badly it incriminated them? That sucked!
“Did they write Grave Actually?” she asked.
His chest puffed up. “That’s all me. Did you like it?” His tone hopeful. “I did it just for you. A love letter.”
He was unhinged! “Were you responsible for that explosion?” Best not to mention her opinion of his writing. “What did you do to my cemetery?”
“Please don’t worry. It was simply a minor distraction. More smoke and noise than fire. I set it off with a remote. Everyone will think Donnie did it. But Jane, with me, you won't have to be Cemetery Girl anymore.” He stepped closer. “You won’t be forced to agonize about this place at all. I know what you really want, and I’m willing to give it to you. A life of adventure. We’ll travel the world together.” Another step closer as she backed up, hitting the far wall. “For the past year, I’ve seen you at every homicide. I noticed how you look at Conrad, and it’s not fair. I deserve your adoration. Me.” Total conviction radiated from him. He believed every word he spoke. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.”
He couldn’t be serious. But either way, she shouldn’t rebuff him outright–yet. Better to play along until help arrived. “I’m not saying no, but I’m having trouble getting over the fact that you murdered two people.” Her gaze slid behind him, to the locked door. Surely Trick and Isaac had noticed her with Christopher on the camera feed. Someone monitoring her audio? Conrad and Beau would realize she was missing and come gunning for the fireman.
“I did that for you,” Christopher repeated. “For us. I gave you what you love. A mystery to solve. Suspects. Conrad has done nothing but stifle your talents.”
Jane licked her lips. “Where is Lucy’s cat?” She struggled to filter fear and disgust from her tone.
“Safe. I’ll let her go as soon as we get this sorted out.”
This? A Bonnie and Clyde type romance? “Why are you confessing now? What about the game?” A game he’d won. She’d suspected him too late, and even then, she hadn’t taken the suspicion seriously.
“I hate seeing you sad, and I thought the truth about my grand gesture might make you happy again. Plus, I didn’t want some copycat killer stealing my thunder.” He closed the rest of the distance. The space was so small, with no tables to hide behind. “Let’s forget the game. I was always ten steps ahead of you anyway. When you passed out,” he added as if he couldn’t help but brag, “I ensured your phone gave mine permission to find it, allowing me to track your whereabouts, then I deleted the message informing you of the change. You should really update your passcode. It’s the same now as it was when we dated.”
Yes. Rolex’s birthday. And wow. Christopher really had been steps ahead. Jane had never guessed he messed with her phone. Except she had lured Christopher into making a confession, so she was clearly twenty steps ahead of him. All she had to do now was stall.
Her stomach churned. “Am I supposed to run away with you or stay here and continue blaming Abigail and Maggie and Donnie?”
His entire countenance softened again. “I knew you’d see it my way. They are terrible people, aren’t they? And you don’t even know the half of it. The girls have said awful things about you behind your back.”
As if the opinion of people she wouldn’t trust with hearse, much less with the fabric of her entire life, bothered her.
“Jane,” Conrad called, his concerned voice seeping through the cracks in the wood.
Relief exploded inside her, but Christopher jolted, his attention swinging toward the door.
Jane seized her chance. Remembering a self-defense move Conrad once taught her, she cried, “Hi yah,” and performed the world’s best roundhouse kick. The blade fell from Christopher’s grip, clanking to the floor.
That worked? Well, of course it worked! Grinning, she swooped down and grabbed the handle before the fireman had a chance. At the same time, Conrad and Donnie burst through the doors. The love of her life had a gun aimed and ready.
Donnie pointed at Christopher. “He’s there!”
“Hands in the air, Wellington,” her stunning lawman commanded.
With panic glittering in his irises, Christopher attempted to grab Jane. To use her as a human meat shield or drag her away with him? He’d forgotten she held his knife.
She slashed his hand before he made contact, and he howled with pain. “That’s for blowing up my cemetery, being a lowdown dirty murderer, and worst of all, kidnapping a cat!” Of course the man had a lot to pay for, but disturbing her “guests” first came to mind.
Donnie rushed past Conrad to tackle Christopher to the ground. Beau, Trick and a deputy arrived next.
“Stop! This is just a misunderstanding,” Christopher called, but Donnie subdued the other man easily, allowing Conrad to sheathe his weapon, stalk over and secure metal cuffs to Christopher’s wrists. After reading the firefighter his rights, Conrad jerked the prisoner to his feet.
As the deputy took custody to finish the arrest, Conrad stalked over to wrap Jane in his arms.
She beamed with pride. “Did you see my sweet move? I dropped him to the ground.”
