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“An act of revenge.” But oh, boy, did Conrad and crew have a mountain to climb with the whole Thacker situation. If the husband mirrored the wife, he would deny, deny, deny. “For the record, I disagree with Madeline. Lovers can turn on you. I think he’s staying with someone he’s blackmailing. Perhaps Jessica.” But. Hmm. “What if the mayor is the Gentleman? Madeline said her father suspected Tom Bennett, plus his brother and a dark-haired man. The mayor has salt and pepper hair, heavy on the pepper, ergo a dark-haired man. Maybe I should attend the interrogation? For the good of the case, of course.”
He snorted. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Jane’s heart leaped. “What did you ask Mr. Garfield about?”
“His children.” Conrad released her to take a drink of his sweet tea. “They both visit often, and either one or both could have snuck into the deputy’s home.”
The Garfield siblings. Ken and Barbie. They did have a motive. Finally settle the tree debate between neighbors. Even as cantankerous as Hugh Garfield was, the pair probably loved him. And, with his illness, stress must be especially bad for his health.
“Were you able to speak with the children themselves?” she asked. “Does Ken have dark hair?”
“No and yes. But if I had to guess, I’d say Bennett is my shooter. He was either hiding in the Garfield house or lurking nearby.”
Then Tom was going down. But what did Conrad’s attempted murder add up to? That Tom was, in fact, the Gentleman, rather than the mayor or his brother, who Gunn might have suspected still lived, if BOSS actually existed? And if so, how did they prove it?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Thou shall always trust your boyfriend to get the job done, but never be afraid to doublecheck his work.
–Jane Ladling’s Campaign Companion Code
“You’re taking the day off, and that’s an order.” Jane used the sternest tone she could manage as she keyed into Conrad’s home.
As soon as they were inside, he gathered her close with his good arm. She leaned into the touch. “I really am okay,” he said.
Mercilessly, she pointed to the couch. “You are allowed to do nothing but relax and heal. Am I understood?”
He laced his fingers through hers. “As long as you’re doing it with me, I will obey Madame Jane.”
All day snuggling with Conrad? Well. Sacrifices must be made. Nodding, she announced, “Fine. But only after I get you properly settled in.”
She helped him settle on the cushions, and Conrad soaked up the attention like a sponge. Propped on pillows and stretched out, he watched her with soft eyes as she removed his shoes, tucked a blanket around him, and sat beside him to smooth the hair from his brow.
“You’re taking this so much better than I expected,” he said, leaning over to brush the tip of his nose against hers.
Had she run from him in the past, any time the curse seemed poised to strike? Yes. Would she run in the future? The urge might be there, but she’d fight it. Right now, she concentrated solely on his recovery.
“I wonder if we should send out a press release to let the citizens know you took a bullet for them,” she muttered thoughtfully. More to herself than Conrad. “Yes. We should. I’ll contact Ashley.” Perhaps, once the conversation got going, she’d ask the burning question. How did you know?
She grabbed her phone and noticed another text from June. Oops! Jane had forgotten to respond to her sister’s last text.
Juniverse: What are you up to?
As much curious as remorseful, Jane responded:
Patching up my boyfriend. What are YOU up to?
Juniverse: Nothing.
Oookay.
Jane: Is there something you’d like to discuss?
Juniverse: No thanks.
Sighing, Jane shot off a quick query to NewsKat to get things rolling, but minutes passed and nothing came in. She set the phone aside and noticed Conrad giving her a bemused look. “What?”
“This is you taking a day off?” He pulled her next to him, and she let him, both of him careful of his injury.
They cuddled up and spent hours chatting about everything and nothing. Even Cheddar hopped onto the couch with them. In between topics, Conrad fielded calls from Wyatt and his favorite foster mom, Susan. Both asked to speak with Jane. Only her assurances that the big, bad lawman was on the mend, thanks to her tender care, helped alleviated their worries.
The only downside was Rolex’s refusal to participate in the layabout. Instead, he perched in a window seat, peering out the glass longingly. Missing Tiffany?
Conrad’s stomach grumbled as the sun lowered on the horizon, and Jane shot up. Someone was hungry? Under her watch? Grandma Lily and Fiona would be scandalized. “You require nourishment to speed up your recovery, and I will provide it.”
“Just order pizza or something,” Conrad said, trying to draw her back into his tempting warmth.
