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“Wow. Jump to conclusions much?” She tsked at him. “I’ll be the one asking Blake our list of questions. There’s only one ace detective in this car, bud, and it isn’t you.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “You’re a brat. You know that, right?”
“Maybe.” As haughtily as she could manage, she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’d rather make the trip with you than without you, and I’m willing to bargain. What if I promise not to approach Blake? To just drive by his house, all innocent-like?”
He laughed outright, the rusty bark that warmed every inch of her. “You mean you’ll be content to stalk the man from a distance, the way you did with Tiffany Hotchkins?”
Speaking of— “Don’t forget we have dinner plans on Saturday. We’ll call it Operation Gravestone.”
His brow cocked. “No stone left unturned?”
“Something like that. We can brainstorm during our road trip.” She leaned in and kissed his lips, surprising them both, then darted out of the car and hurried inside the house to prepare.
CHAPTER NINE
“Meet your next fixer upper!”
Diamond City, Nevada - Diamond in the Rough Party
4 Matches Made!
Jane fell asleep two minutes after staggering into her bedroom. That meant no blueberry pancakes for her, dang it. Not even plain pancakes. No trip to the city with Conrad. No confrontation with Blake. And she still hadn’t checked the photos she’d taken at the Gold Fever! exhibit.
On the plus side, she’d learned Beau completed his search of the grounds and he’d never found planted evidence. She must have stopped the Kirklands before they completed their mission. Also on the plus side, Fiona had given her the biggest hug.
Now, however, it was time to rise. With a groan, Jane eased into an upright position on her four-poster bed. Sunlight bathed into her small, somewhat cluttered room, filtering through a window draped by thin, light purple curtains. A cat hammock kept those curtains parted twenty-four seven, allowing Rolex to peer out any time he pleased.
Speaking of, her precious sat on the gorgeous patchwork quilt, crafted with love in shades of lilac, violet and lavender, and licked his belly, a leg extended into the air.
“I’m not gonna draw you like one of my French girls,” she teased, scratching him behind the ears. “Did our guests leave?” The house struck her as eerily quiet.
Her phone lit up on the antique nightstand, next to a stack of hats, signaling a new text, but the device emitted no sounds. Ugh. The thing was only a few years old. If she had to fork over a single cent to buy another one, she was gonna be so mad.
She leaned over to swipe up the device and frowned. There were three texts from Tiffany.
Mrs. Hots PMS: Don’t forget! My house, Saturday. 7:00 pm.
Oh wow. Okay. Until this moment, Jane hadn’t realized giving someone a title of ‘Possible Murder Suspect’ would also reference premenstrual syndrome. She made a quick adjustment, deleting the PMS.
Anyway. There was a picture attached to the message. An admittingly cute selfie of Tiffany and Jake. She smiled at the camera while he kissed her cheek, locks of her dark, shoulder length hair mixing with his lighter strands and streaking over his freshly shaven jaw.
How adorable would Conrad look with Jane’s long mane hanging over him?
Focus! Right. She read on.
Mrs. Hots: You’re still coming, right?
Mrs. Hots: If you’re planning to blow me off, just tell me.
Had Jane been this irritating when she’d texted and called while under the influence of the thorn apple? Because yikes! Tiffany sure was eager to make this dinner happen. Too eager for an apology dinner, perhaps? In books and movies, most people tried to cancel those.
Yeah, this was suspicious. Definitely. Could it be a set-up of some sort? Tiffany and Abigail were super close; the best of friends since elementary school. They must hope to use this dinner to draw Jane out of the house, allowing the Kirklands to come back and finish whatever they’d attempted to do. Probably with Robby in tow.
Well, then. The trio had a big surprise coming. As head of security, Beau would be stalking the grounds, ready to nab them the second they stepped foot on the property.
One way or another, Jane was getting answers.
Other messages awaited her.
Agent Spice: Not gonna fall asleep? He may say otherwise, but Rolex has been fed. Also, I added my feedback to your case notes. And just in case you’re beginning to fall in love with me thanks to my newest gallant deeds—I snore.
Her heart leaped. This man. Oh, this man. What was she going to do with him?
Beaudyguard: The goal is to keep you out of jail—you get that, right?
Fionality: I’m gonna need some Jane time today. Check your bathroom.
Her bathroom? Why? Then she spotted the current day and time and executed a movie worthy double take. Wednesday, 7:13. A.M. As in morning. Weed-whacking Wednesday. Which meant she’d slept all yesterday and all night. She still wore her prison uniform—the dress she’d selected for her visit to the museum. Ugh. Usually, she was up and clean and inspecting the grounds by now.
