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First official date. The words echoed in her head. A double. With suspects. While working a case together. Because he wasn’t done with her. The relationship wasn’t ending—it was starting.
Gah! Now she panicked for another reason. Breathe, Jay Bird. “You should probably tell me something awful about yourself now.”
“Yeah?” He looked ready to grin. “Let’s see. I enjoy camping. When I take you, and I will, there will be no glamping. We will rough it and survive off the land. You will be miserable.” Arching a brow, he asked, “Better?”
Deep breath in. Out. Okay. “Yes. Thank you.” Although, he’d probably chop wood shirtless, ruining her distaste for camping. “D-did you do a background check on Jake Stephenson?” Better to talk about the case right now. Yes. Much better. “Any inside information you can share with the rest of the class?”
“Make her stay forever, Conrad,” Wyatt called. “Did you taste this casserole?”
“Stop eating it,” Conrad called back, clearly exasperated. “I just put that in the oven.”
“Seriously dude. Forever. This stuff is better than crack. Not that I know what crack tastes like.”
Jane swallowed a laugh. She kind of liked the uncomfortably blunt Wyatt.
Conrad toyed with a lock of her hair, saying, “Yes, I did a background check on Jacob Stephenson. During his freshman year of college, the student-run Honor Committee accused him of cheating on an exam. He was kicked out before winter break. No undergrad in the school’s history had ever been sent home that quickly.”
She blinked up at him. Well now. “That’s good to know.”
“Now that I’ve baited you with my hook, why don’t you come inside and stay a while?” He sounded amused. “I’ll let you ask me three highly personal questions.”
Baited hook indeed. This man must be a killer in the interrogation room—offering what you wanted most, so you’d cave to his will. This was a deal too amazing to pass up.
She allowed him to link their fingers and lead her into the living room, where Wyatt patted the couch seat beside him. A smear of creamed pepper sauce marred his shirt now.
“Plenty of room here,” he said.
Conrad released her hand to flatten his palm on the small of her back while making a low, growling sound. “You’ll be taking a walk around the block while I speak with Jane.”
With a heavy sigh, Wyatt unfolded to a stand. “You suck sometimes, bro.”
“I know.” The agent made a sweeping gesture, encompassing the entire living area. “Sit anywhere you want, sweetheart.”
“So nice meeting you, Janie.” Wyatt wrapped her in a hug and whispered, “Con’s never called another woman sweetheart, by the way.” He kissed her cheek and shot off for the door.
Her cheeks flushed. He hadn’t? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t! I won’t fall for him. I won’t!
Determined to enjoy the moment, Jane sank onto the middle couch cushion again. Her official spot now.
“All right.” Conrad sat on the coffee table, like Wyatt. Only, he sat closer, his legs bracketing hers. “You go first. Tell me what you learned at Ana’s. Who are your current main suspects now?”
Easy. “They haven’t changed, really. The Kirklands, who are literal gold diggers. Robby Waynes, who is an all-around terrible person. Tiffany Hotchkins, who keeps texting me. Jake Stephenson because who is this guy, anyway? And Tony Miller, who is a thousand percent petty enough to frame me and participate in my defense.” Not to mention every other man on the board of photos.
As she’d languished in double solitary confinement with Fiona yesterday—for four hours!—she’d matched photos to names and nicknames from the list of sixteen. Her memory had served her well. More than ever, she was certain something connected the guys in the images to the speed daters.
“Are Tiffany’s texts bothersome?” Conrad asked, looking seconds away from a second chuckle.
“Yes! She suddenly wants to be my best friend. Why would she do that unless she hopes to pump me for information?”
“Maybe because you are a wonderful person. With the whole town gossiping about her, she might need a friend. Just a guess off the top of my head.”
Jane scrunched up her nose. “No, that can’t be right. Face it, Conrad. I’m known as that weird cemetery girl for a reason.”
“What even is normal?” he asked. As her eyes went wide, his chuckle escaped. “So what did you find at Ana’s?”
He listened, remaining still as she explained. Rather than question her further when she finished, he returned to a previous topic. “Why don’t we make the three questions you get to ask me about the case?”
Why the change? And why give him time to decide not to answer anything? “Did the GBH find a person of interest who is familiar with thorn apple?”
“Not until yesterday. I’ve been scouring posts on the Headliner in my spare time. A woman discovered a bushel of the stuff growing in her neighbor’s backyard.”
