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“And why do we want to do this?”
“We are the only voice the dead have.”
CHAPTER NINE
Never pay attention to rumors. They’re like always mixed with assumptions and frosted with exaggerations.
–Jane Ladling’s Campaign Companion Code
With a breakfast casserole in hand, Jane led Tiffany up Fiona’s driveway. The cozy Bedrock neighborhood provided a blend of southern style craftsmans and folksy Victorians. Even better, it wasn’t far from Conrad’s new place. Perfect for when Jane moved–
Whoa. She may have turned a corner regarding relationships and the curse, but there was no sense in counting her eggs before they hatched. She had zero plans to permanently move in with Conrad, now or ever. Garden of Memories was her sanctuary, and that was that. Wasn’t it?
She forced her thoughts to return to her dearest friend. After Fiona’s second husband died, she sold her family farm outside of town and moved into this charming Victorian. With its wraparound porch and steeply pitched roof, everything about the place invited new and old friends to relax and enjoy a cup of honey sweetened tea.
They entered the abode without knocking, a privilege granted to Jane years ago. Immediately she was struck by the deluge of whimsy and nostalgia. From the creak of the hardwood floors to old-fashioned lace curtains, every nook and cranny hummed with character. Framed photos of Fiona’s children and grandchildren lovingly graced the walls alongside their artwork. Various knitting projects were stashed here and there. The scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies lingered in the air.
“This feels like home,” Tiffany muttered, eyes wide as she spun in a slow circle, taking everything in. Nervously removing her coat and smoothing her top, she asked, “Who else is coming?”
“Only the members of Team Truth.”
“That tells me nothing. Who are the members of Team Truth?”
“Besides Fiona and myself, there’s Conrad, Beau, the Sheriff, Trick, Holden and Isaac. Rolex and Cheddar serve as our mascots.” Go guard cat and the corgi! How cute was that? Maybe she should have matching shirts made.
“Sorry, but my guys can’t make it.” The masculine voice hit Jane’s ears, and she yelped with surprise.
Spinning, she came face to face with a grinning Beau. The stinker must have snuck in behind them, just to prove a point.
“I’ve got them out on jobs. Also, I told you I can be invisible,” he said.
She humphed to let him know such shenanigans were beneath him. “Showing up your boss is a good way to get yourself fired, young man.”
He snorted. “You love having me around.”
Yeah, she really did. “Do those jobs have anything to do with the current investigation?”
“They do,” he replied, but offered no more.
So they were doing what? Guarding Ashley? Searching for Tom? Hunting clues Jane had yet to unearth?
“I’m guessing no one attempted to murder me from the shadows?” Which was kind of a problem. Maybe she wasn’t on the right path. After all, the Gentleman had threatened Ashley. So why not Jane? Was she not locked on the right target?
Although, to be fair, the reporter received the letter before Tom left town. What’s more, menacing letters took time to create and mail. Maybe Jane’s would arrive any day. A girl could hope, anyway. Not that she approved of someone threatening her life. But. With her gut on the fritz, getting a little something to let her know she was on the right track could be nice.
On the other hand, why would a hardened criminal like the Gentleman, who might be cold and cruel enough to sneak into a man’s house and dose his morning coffee, run away simply because the law hunted him? Shouldn’t he dig in his heels, stand his ground, and wreak more havoc?
And what about Tom’s brother? Why had Jane never heard of him? Was Tom’s current lady love paying the brother’s bills as well?
Something wasn’t adding up. What was Jane missing?
Beau snapped his fingers in front of her face, pulling her from her head. “There you are,” her friend said with a small smile. “You are correct. No murder attempts. No one but me followed you.”
And now she suspected she was on the wrong road again. Unless she wasn’t.
Her friend motioned to her hair with a tilt of his chin. “That’s new.”
“Conrad won’t be able to keep his hands out of it,” Tiffany piped up with an enthusiastic nod.
“Agreed,” Beau said.
Biting her bottom lip and blushing, Jane wound a lock around her index finger. “So you think Conrad will like it?”
“Oh yeah,” Beau replied. “He’ll like it.”
Tiffany brightened and raised an arm into the air. “It was me. I made her do it.”
Beau ruffled the widow’s hair, and she beamed at him. “You entered the bullpen and survived.”
“I know!”
Bull? Please. Jane was as sweet as a bird.
The scent of maple syrup, bacon and butter overshadowed the cookies, making her mouth water and her brain blank. She forgot everything but the food. “Fiona?” she called. “We’re here, and we’re ravenous.”
