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Instead of spewing out curses, as usual, Jane thrust the knitting needles into his hands. “Here. I’ll show you how to make one.”
She helped him properly angle his knitting needles, surprised to find he had nimble fingers—a thought she would not let herself pursue. “Yes. Like that. Keep it up, and we might be able to tell you made a rabbit instead of accidentally sewing two socks together.”
“Funny girl,” he said, his gaze lingering on her lips for a moment.
Fiona made a snorting sound from her rocker; a sound Beau mimicked from the rocker next to hers. “Don’t let her tease you. A few of Jane’s funny bunnies have had four arms and no ears.”
“I’m sure the kids loved them,” Conrad said, his voice low. “But there’s no way anyone will love my monster.” He missed a stitch and gave a mock growl. “When I had a garage, I put old car engines back together in my spare time. Why is this so difficult?”
He enjoyed rebuilding car engines? Jane almost smiled. She felt as if she were in the middle of an Introduction to Conrad Ryan class—and passing the prerequisite!
Before he caught her staring dreamily at him, she looked away. Wait. Her living room… Something struck her as different. Different but also the same. What…where—the drapes, she realized. Someone had patched and re-hung the curtains Rolex destroyed the day Jane found Ana. Three someones, no doubt.
If that wasn’t the sweetest thing anyone had ever done.
“Thanks, y’all. The curtains look amazing.” Jane threw herself at Conrad for a hug he returned, then jumped up and skipped over to kiss Fiona’s cheek and squeeze Beau’s shoulder. “You guys are the best.”
“We know,” the trio said in unison, as if they’d rehearsed it.
Everyone chuckled as she scratched Rolex behind the ears and returned to her section of the couch. Her precious angel looked like a gargoyle, now that he’d stopped hissing.
Jane cooed praises as the agent worked the needles through the threads, bringing everything together as perfectly as a key in a lock—key! “Conrad, I meant to ask earlier but do you happen to know why Ana carried a golden key shaped like a shovel in her purse?”
“I do. It’s for a locker at the Gold Rush Museum. People store their shoes and socks in a locker and sift through piles of sand. I think she went there to spy on Robby.”
“Really?” How disappointing. That wasn’t quite the scandal Jane had anticipated. “The museum offers literal gold digging? I’ve visited the museum twice in a matter of weeks and had no idea.”
“That’s because you have tunnel vision,” Fiona said without glancing up from her toy. “You get your eye set on a prize and you can’t see anything else.”
Jane shrugged. “What about the mini hammer associated with the fire department?” Hey, look at that? She could mention AHFD out loud without blanching. Her ex, Christopher, had dumped her like she was a hot potato. For no reason! One day he’d just stopped speaking to her.
“Volunteer firefighters offered a trade three years ago,” Conrad explained. “Donate five soup cans to the local food bank and receive the hammer to store in your vehicle. It’s for if you need to make an emergency break-out.”
Oh. “And the, um, bagged panties?”
“A clean pair for an overnight stay somewhere other than home.”
“I see.” Her cheeks heated. Okay, so, forget the items in Ana’s purse. “She was seeing someone after her breakup with Robby?”
“Not that we can tell. She often did overnight surveillance on the people in town.”
Yeah. That tracked. But dang it. She was getting nowhere fast. Time for an abrupt turn. “Let’s say I’m a thief, and I want to withdraw someone’s money while pretending to be them,” she said, and Conrad groaned. “What type of ID would I need to clean out their bank account?”
“Just a computer,” Beau piped up from his chair as he crafted a piglet. How were both the guys better at knitting these toys on their very first attempt when Jane had been doing this for years? “Whose money do you want and by when?”
Conrad released the needles and massaged his nape, a man who seemed to have lost track of his life a few miles back.
“No, I mean, if you aren’t able to hack into programs or whatever.” She started a new toy of her own. Maybe the thief—The Robber—knew computers, maybe he didn’t. And she hadn’t forgotten about the breach of her own security feed. “If you actually go inside the bank, expecting to be filmed.”
“Depends on the amount of cash being withdrawn, I think.” Fiona shrugged. “My first husband—God rest his soul—used to complain when he didn’t have to jump through hoops to access his money. No hoops, no protections.”
Conrad nodded. “Anything over ten grand, the bank has to report to the government. And in a town as small as this one? Everyone knows everyone. No one can pretend to be someone else.”
