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Other shouts rang out.
“Actually, the Gold family isn’t buried here,” she said, playing ignorant, “but if you’ll look to your right, you’ll notice—”
“I found it!” The claim came from a distance and silenced the remaining shouts. “I found where Dr. Hots was murdered!”
Gasps and murmurs sounded, everyone turning to look in the voice’s direction. In groups of two and three, her guests broke off, splitting from the crowd. Emma aimed in that direction, too.
“We might as well join them,” Jane muttered, barreling forward to lead the stragglers. You never knew when a clue would turn up.
Conrad caught up, maintaining a post at her side.
“How dare you,” a woman shrieked. Not just any woman. Tiffany Hotchkins.
Jane and Conrad picked up the pace, reaching plot 39 in record time. Stationary lanterns glowed, illuminating the crowd.
Abigail stood beside Tiffany and pointed a finger in Emma’s face. “Haven’t you done enough?”
Emma swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks, her fingers trembling. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Tiff. But I loved him too.”
People were drawing together, creating a circle around the women. No sign of Anthony. Jane decided to reach an organic conclusion. Conrad must have decided the same, considering he didn’t leap to anyone’s rescue.
Please, please, please let someone admit something they shouldn’t!
A vein pulsed in the widow’s forehead, and her hands balled into fists. With a wail, Tiffany Hotchkins launched herself at the nurse. The two hit the ground and rolled. The widow pulled hair and clawed. The nurse merely defended herself.
Okay, so, change of plan. The organic conclusion might be another murder. “No! Stop this!” Jane called. She’d wanted more barbs of information, not a physical altercation.
Conrad acted fast, rushing ahead of her to grab the two combatants and wrench them apart.
Beau arrived a split second later, shooting into the mess to take possession of Tiffany, who fervently fought his hold.
No sign of Sheriff Moore. Jane wondered if he’d stayed behind at the ticket booth for some mysterious reason.
Emma brought her hands to her bleeding face and sobbed. Her gloves had come off, revealing old, scabbed cuts. Jane frowned. Those cuts looked an awful lot like feline scratches. Had the nurse tangled with a cat recently?
A specific cat, perhaps? Two punctures topping two zagged lines.
Breath caught in Jane’s throat, blocking her airway. In an instant, she remembered the terror of being unable to locate her baby. The agony of wondering what had happened.
“You did it,” Jane gasped out. The motive? Love. An unholy, unexpected rage exploded from her. Her movements slowed. A predator locked on prey, she eased the lantern to the ground. “You’re the cat endangerer. That, I know.”
“Jane,” Conrad grated a few feet away as he struggled to contain Tiffany. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. Stand down.”
As if. “The only question now,” she continued to Emma, “is whether or not you’re the killer.” She’d spoken so quietly, no one had heard. In fact, nobody paid any attention to her. Sharper words flew from her tongue. “You were in my house and scared my baby. He could have died.” The thought of burying Rolex… “He could have died as terribly as Dr. Hotchkins. Because of you.”
Jane erupted, launching at Emma. Those hours of self-defense with Conrad were about to pay off. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop her as she plowed into the other woman. They toppled, the nurse ripping from Conrad’s grip.
This time, Emma refused to take her medicine. She fought back.
Conrad moved to pull them apart, only to focus on the lawyer after he shoved his way through the crowd. As the agent took down the irate husband, Jane knocked Emma flat on her back, out cold.
Grinning, she wiped her hands together in a job well done. “Someone call Fiona. Tell her what I did. Oh, and maybe round up one of our visiting doctors.”
“Dr. Garcia!” multiple voices called. “Whittington!”
“Emma did it,” she told Conrad as he forced Anthony to the ground and cuffed his hands behind his back. “She’s my intruder. She might be the murderer too!”
“Maybe. I’ll question her, I promise you.”
Beau maneuvered Tiffany into the same supine position, and zip-tied her wrists.
He just carried the ties in his pocket all casual-like? Okay. Guaranteed Eunice will find that sexy.
Caroline hurried forward. “I’m here, I’m here. Who’s my patient?”
“Emma,” Jane told her.
The assistant crouched beside the unconscious nurse and checked her vitals. Sweat dotted her brow. She’d ditched her bright jacket, at least. Hey, why had she worn a jacket in the first place? Like so many others, she now wore all black.
Hmm. Had Caroline snuck around the cemetery? To what end?
Well. The case wasn’t exactly solved, after all. Too bad for Caroline the cameras came with night vision.
“Take her to the clinic without jostling her too much. I haven’t found any signs of a concussion, but I’d like to do a more thorough examination,” the PA announced.
