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To be here already… They must have left the event mere minutes after Jane and Conrad. Was anyone taking this case seriously?
Conrad blew out a breath and raked a hand through his dark hair. Several strands refused to fall and remained standing, sticking out in spikes. Even exasperated, he was gorgeous.
“Anything else you’d like to discuss with me before we go in?” he asked when she killed the engine and tossed the car keys into her purse. “Or shall we kick off your interrogation?”
“There are lots of things I’d like to discuss with you.” In the sudden quiet and darkness, however, a twinge of jitters nearly got the better of her. Instead, she forged ahead. “But we’ll start with the interrogation. Namely, I’m interested in Ana’s stories.” The journalist’s accusations were never far from her mind.
“All right. The interrogation,” he said. Disappointment edged his tone. Which left her disappointed in herself. “If even half of her accusations are correct, Aurelian Hills is basically a penal colony in the making. Neighborhood watches that facilitate thefts not safety. Counterfeit coupon rings. Secret society hazings. She also suspected the cemetery of being part of an underground gold smuggling operation.”
“What!” Yes, Dr. Hot’s killer had claimed to find a nugget on the property, but no other nuggets had been discovered since. And Jane had searched. A lot. “Ana was so not right about the cemetery.”
“Yes. True.” He unbuckled and reached over to link his fingers with hers. “Hightower is investigating the speed daters, but nothing nefarious has popped up.”
“Yet,” she corrected. Comfort accompanied contact as his rough palm pressed against hers.
“Yet,” he agreed. “While I’m in town, I plan to chat with some people about a few of Ana’s other stories. And no, you may not join me.”
“Why would I want to join you on such a fruitless endeavor?” Other than longing to be by his side.
They sat in silence for a moment, his scent infusing her every breath...and maybe, possibly, fogging her head, threatening her inner most defenses.
“Jane,” he said, his tone gentler.
Just as before, when he’d come over and tried to discuss their relationship, she panicked like some silly schoolgirl, and there was no stopping it. Her inhalations turned shallow. Uttering her deepest thoughts and feelings would solidify this…thing between them. There’d be no going back.
The sooner they started, the sooner they ended.
Not ready. She’d lost so many people already, in one way or another. First her parents. Then her grandparents. Both of her boyfriends. One day, she would lose Fiona and Rolex. They couldn’t live forever. Jane would become a shell of herself. No way she would survive losing anyone else.
Hating herself, she returned the conversation to the case. “Has anyone mentioned Dr. Hotchkins’s list of favorite girlfriends? It’s supposedly floating around on the Headliner. Beau might have mentioned it since you guys love texting each other apparently.”
Another pause. A weary sigh. “I’ve seen the list, yes.”
She perked up. “The hosts of tonight’s event believe the doctor’s side slices are in danger.”
“Doubtful. There are fifty-eight names in total. Thirty-six sure things and twenty-two possibilities. Ana put it together. She added a star next to three women. Caroline Whittington, Emma Miller and Abigail Waynes-Kirkland.”
Caroline. Dr. Hots’s murderer. Emma, Tony’s ex. Abigail, Robby’s sister. Interesting.
“Theories about Mrs. Waynes-Kirkland and her brother Mr. Waynes are prevalent in some of the notebooks we took from Ana’s apartment. She believed the siblings recently acquired jobs at the museum to steal documents from the Gold Fever! exhibit and replace everything with forgeries. Hightower is doing a deep dive on them both before setting up meetings.”
Knew there was a connection! Jane had planned to hunt down Robby tomorrow. A museum drop-by meant she’d get to speak with Abigail too.
“Now,” Conrad said, shifting in his seat to face her fully and unveil a grim expression. He never loosened his grip on her hand. In fact, he held on tighter. “I’m rethinking my strategy with you. I think I made a mistake, not pushing you and your fear of the curse, at least a little. It keeps things murky and allows you to jump to conclusions. So. I’m switching approaches. Nothing major, though. All right? But I want you to feel free to push back. Or not. Your choice. You ready?”
“No!”
“Too bad. Here goes. You believe you’re cursed. Despite the implications of this, I like you. Romantically. I want to date you.”
“Casually but also exclusively?” she managed to squeak out. “Even knowing we’re doomed?”
“Yes and yes. Though I don’t believe the doomed part.” He waited a moment. “Will you tell me more about the curse?”
Though she trembled with surprise, excitement, and dread—he wanted what she wanted!—she nodded. She owed him that much. “It’s generational and affects only the women of the family. None of us have ever kept the man we love.”
