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“It’s okay. At least now I can talk to you about it tomorrow. She wasn’t going to spend the night, but...”
“But you’re that good?” Isabelle asked.
“I’m pretty good.”
Isabelle had to slap a hand over her mouth to stop her laughter again. This time Jill joined her, relaxing for the first time since Isabelle had arrived.
Jill filled a glass with ice water and sucked it down as if she’d been working out. “So what was so gosh-darn urgent you had to interrupt my night of illicit love?”
“Nothing. I wanted to talk about Tom.”
“Why?”
“A night of illicit love.”
Jill set the glass down hard. “I knew it! You two were throwing off sparks from day one.”
“There’s a little chemistry.”
“So what is there to talk about? Was it weird?”
“No, it wasn’t weird!”
Jill arched an eyebrow as she refilled her glass and poured one for Isabelle, too. “I don’t know what you people are into.”
Isabelle was laughing again, half at Jill and half in delight because she was talking about Tom. That was a sad state to be in. “The problem is that there’s actually a lot of chemistry. And it wasn’t weird at all. And I just wanted...some confirmation, maybe? Some reassurance. You like him, right?” Before Jill could answer, Isabelle held up her hands. “Oh, God,” she groaned. “I don’t even know why I’m asking. It’s only temporary.” What was she thinking? That Tom could be her boyfriend? That it would be safe because she’d see him only once a month so he’d never find out more about her?
Jill ignored her outburst. “I like Tom a lot. He’s a good guy. I can tell.”
“Maybe he just makes a good first impression.”
“Maybe. But I’ve met a lot of people in my life, and I’ve got good instincts. I grew up black and poor. Cops are not my favorite people in the world, but I liked him right away. Unlike, say, that asshole FBI guy who came knocking today.”
Isabelle’s body went numb. She almost dropped her glass of water. “The FBI?”
“Didn’t he come by your house? I saw him head over there.”
“No. He... I went snowshoeing today. He must have missed me.” She pictured him trying to look through her window, and her pulse picked up. “Why would the FBI be here?”
“Same reason everyone’s here, I guess. He was asking a lot of questions about who lives around here, and he was interested in the summer cabins. Frankly, I got the idea he was checking on Tom’s work. I guess those two agencies don’t like each other.”
Isabelle nodded, hoping her face wasn’t as pale as it felt. “So he wasn’t asking anything odd?”
“Odd?” Jill frowned at her, but she shook her head. “Not really. Asked how long I’d known the neighbors and all that. He asked me about an older man. Maybe it was someone related to the guy arrested this morning.”
“Right.” A man. Could have been any man.
“He asked about a woman, too. I hadn’t heard there were any women involved, but I guess they must be married and have families, after all. It makes sense.”
A woman. Sweat prickled her brow. “What was the FBI agent’s name?”
“I don’t remember. You should ask Tom. Why?”
Shit. Why, indeed? “I’m just...worried he was rude to you. You said you didn’t like him.”
Jill clicked her tongue. “No, he was only smarmy. Glad-handing me, pretending we were friends. I don’t trust that.”
“All right. I’ll keep that in mind.” Isabelle briefly considered running back home and packing a bag just in case this was about her. But that made no sense, did it? How would the FBI have found her after all this time?
