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His deep, husky voice sent shivers down her spine. “Hi. Hello. I was calling to see if you’ve interviewed Tiffany Hotchkins. The wife.” Jane flipped through her notebook. “Tiffany is certain her husband had an affair with tons of locals. Abigail Waynes-Kirkland might or might not have been one of those women. Apparently, Dr. Hotchkins gave, um, vitamin D injections in exam rooms. Um…you know what that means, right? Anyway, most of the women are single, but some are married. You’ll want to look into their spouses too probably. I have a list of names and descriptions.”
“Jane Ladling?” he asked with a tinge of amusement.
Heat filled her cheeks, quickly spreading through the rest of her. Focus. “Right. Sorry. Yes, this is Jane Ladling. Why don’t I start over?” Deep breath in. “Have you interviewed Dr. Hotchkins’s wife? Or her friend, Abigail Waynes-Kirkland?”
The agent’s sigh crackled over the line. “I’m currently pursuing several people of interest. That’s all I can tell you.”
Several? Don’t ask. Don’t you dare. “Am I still one of those people?” Argh! She’d asked.
A pause. Then, “There’s definite interest in you here at the bureau, Jane.”
Wait. What? His words had a flirtatious edge—and so did his tone. She caught herself doodling Mrs. Special Agent Conrad Ryan and drawing hearts.
Focus! Was she or wasn’t she in trouble here? “There’s something else you should know,” she told him, forging ahead. “Dr. Hotchkins’s nurse may or may not be one of the women who may or may not have had an affair with him. I’m not sure yet.”
“Yet?” Another sigh, this one heavier. “Do not question anyone or look into the case, Jane. That’s my job. Do you understand?”
Equally unwilling to lie or give up, she bypassed the question entirely. “Look, you missed a wild scene at the Hotchkins’s house this morning. Tiffany accused everyone of sleeping with her husband. Emma Miller, his nurse, rushed out crying and sped away. I’ve even heard Dr. Hotchkins argued with his staff the day before his murder. Don’t you find that the tiniest bit suspicious?”
“What I find suspicious is your visit to the widow of the victim found on your property. A man you claim you’ve never spoken with. Why would you do that?”
“Because it’s polite. I didn’t know the doctor, but I went to high school with Tiffany.” Rolex wove through her legs and meowed for a second breakfast. “Someone has to solve the crime, put a murderer away, and clear the good names of the innocent.”
“That’s right. Someone has to, and it’s me. Trust me on this. I’m working as fast as humanly possible.”
The fierce promise underlying his statement comforted and delighted her. But it wouldn’t stop her. “Everyone needs help now and then, and you could clearly use mine. You wouldn’t have this lead about Dr. Hot’s nurse without me. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you call him by that ridiculous nickname. And I’ve been looking into the clinic employees since day one.” He said no more.
“Well? Have you found anything?”
Sigh. “I’m pursuing several people of interest,” he repeated. The sound of papers rustling drifted to her ear. “Did you get someone out there to beef up security?”
Using her shoulder to anchor her phone in place, Jane picked up Rolex and carried him to the couch. “I called a local business from…” What was the name of the company? Oh yes. “Peach State Security. We haven’t managed to connect. Apparently he just opened up shop, so I’m going to give him a couple more days.”
“I instructed Sheriff Moore to have a deputy patrol the cemetery each night, but he doesn’t have the resources to spare the man much longer. Nor do I. If you don’t hear back from Peach State Security by the end of business today, let me know. I’m acquainted with several firefighters here in Atlanta who install security equipment on their off days.”
“Okay, will do,” she said, trying not to melt into a boneless heap. Other than her grandparents and Fiona, no one had ever worried about her wellbeing. Not that anyone wanted her to die. Not that anyone in Aurelian Hills hated her. She was just…overlooked.
When a loud knock echoed through the house, scaring Rolex, Jane closed her notebook and popped to her feet. “Gotta go. I’ve got a visitor. No doubt it’s someone else wanting a look at the crime scene. Don’t worry, though. Rolex and I are taking care of it.” She disconnected before he had a chance to do more than sputter. Oops.
She rushed to the open door, a tower of strength suddenly standing before her. A white T-shirt hugged sculpted muscle. Denims and combat boots showcased a body built like a Mack Truck.
A familiar face kick-started her heart, and a bright smile bloomed. “Beau?”
He nodded without returning her smile. “That’s me.”
