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“I knew the third time would be the charm,” her friend said.
They’d spoken to two others who’d all but slammed the door in their faces.
“Here you go,” the mother said, claiming her child and slapping the key in Jane’s palm. “I’ll miss Ana. She was fun. I can’t tell you how many times she babysat my trio of heck-beasts when I had to work late or brought over a bottle of wine to share with me. She certainly had a lot of interesting stories featuring the people in this town.”
Having neighbors sounded lovely. “That she did.”
Jane waved as the door shut, then she and Fiona aimed for the correct apartment. There might be something wonderfully or terribly insidious to this dress-up and pretend thing, after all. A twist of the key, and the lock clicked. The door to Ana’s place snickered open.
“Wow. Gotta say, this was almost too easy,” Fiona said with a shudder.
“I was just thinking the same thing. But the worst part is, I didn’t even get to finish my heartfelt story of being separated from my dearly departed older sister through no fault of my own.”
Okay. Mind on the mission. Jane really hoped to find a crime board outlining everything Ana had investigated. What a timesaver that would be. “While I search for clues, you wait downstairs in the lobby to act as my lookout.”
“Ten-four. If any lawmen or dubious characters show up while you’re searching for those clues, I’ll contact you immediately. You get a text from me, you get out of there, okay? Even if the text is garbled nonsense because I’m typing without looking while I do some distracting.”
“No problem. And thank you.” Jane kissed her cheek before slipping inside the one bedroom and closing the door behind her. Rather than turn on the lights, she used the flashlight on her phone for illumination.
As she prowled through the home, she nearly tripped over a couple stacks of boxes. Ana’s real family must have started the heart-wrenching process of packing up her stuff.
The would-be journalist had decorated her apartment in an eclectic style of mismatched...everything. Everything seemed to belong to a different design style. The common theme: pops of color. From the bright yellow and teal comforter to the red sofa with silver nail heads and pink throw pillows.
In a section cordoned off with hanging cloth, Jane found the “office.” Over a collapsible wall-desk, twinkle lights illuminated a cork bulletin board covered with photos.
Jackpot. Most of the pictures were printed from a social media page and featured men Jane had never met, in typical profile poses. Their ages ranged from twenty to forty. Ana had written names, dates, and locations on the back of each.
Jane used her phone to record a video of the photos. Hey! There was Robby. She snatched the printout off the tack, bringing the image closer to her face. Yep. Definitely Robby. He sat on a boat, grinning, and holding up a fish he’d caught.
Another photo caught her eye. Blake. Oh! And there was another of Blake. In the first, he had his arm wrapped around a petite brunette at a formal event. He wore a suit and tie: she wore a black gown. In the other photo, the same brunette kissed his chin while they lay in bed. An early morning selfie. Both were smiling.
The wife? Or the alleged girlfriend he denied having?
Oh, and there was another of Robby. And Tony. Another of Tony with his ex-wife Emma. Even handsome, golden Jake Stephenson was mixed in—but not with his fiancée Tiffany. No, he had his lips pressed into the cheek of a completely different brunette. And also a blonde.
Were the other women the reason Jake had sought a fresh start in a new town? Had he cheated on one with the other, earning the wrath of both? Or were all these people innocent?
Jane stepped back and took in the full impact of the bulletin board. There was a (slight) possibility Ana had been a stalker rather than a journalist. But had she also been a thief? Had she targeted these men and paid a lookalike to drain their accounts? Or had she chased the thief?
In the next room, hinges squeaked. Someone had just opened a door. Fiona was supposed to stay in the lobby and text her if there was a problem. But her friend might not recognize one of Ana’s actual family members.
Jane powered off the flashlight on her phone, going still. Heart thudding, she backed into a shadowed corner and crouched.
“—that you are breaking and entering right now, sheriff,” Fiona was saying.
Relief deluged Jane, and she straightened, stepping past the cloth divider. Except, what did her friend mean, sheriff?
“I told you to stay behind me, Fee,” a deep, familiar voice proclaimed, all but dripping with exasperation. Oh yes. The sheriff indeed. “I didn’t pull my deputy off this to let you and Jane finish doing whatever it is you’re doing.”
