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His features softened. “Sweetheart, there’s always a reason for you to spend the night at my place.”
Well. If he insisted she stay another night, she’d have to–
“But I do know you have duties at the Garden,” he added, “and I won’t stop you from seeing to them.”
She slapped on what might be an overbright smile. “Yes. Of course.”
An elevator dinged, and seconds later, Barrow rounded the corner, approaching with a file in hand. “Hate to interrupt, but we’re ready for round two of questioning.” He patted Conrad’s shoulder, letting him know he was invited to participate, before he turned an apologetic eye to Jane. “I’m sorry, but the prosecutor is fully involved, and consultants of consultants are out. Conrad is an exception because the election for sheriff is a lock.”
“Will you at least ask Tom why he never sent me a threatening letter?” she beseeched.
“If it comes up organically,” the agent said, but Conrad winked at her, letting her know it was as good as done. When Barrow’s phone dinged, he glanced at the screen and huffed. “Give me a minute.” He stomped to a private corner to make a call.
Conrad kissed Jane’s forehead. “I’ll contact you when we finish up here. Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at six for your quote unquote best Valentine’s Day ever.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. “Yes, please reach out when you finish. But. Um. About tomorrow. Maybe we shouldn’t give each other presents this year. Just this year. So there’s no pressure. For you.”
“Too late. I already got your gift.” Mimicking a southern belle, he lurched back and pressed a hand over his heart. “Why, Jane Ladling-Ryan. Did you forget to buy or make your precious boyfriend a present?”
“How dare you?” she said with an affront she only halfway faked. “I absolutely did not forget. If anything, I over-remembered. Maybe I don’t want you to feel inferior because my gift is so much better than yours. Huh? Did you ever consider that?”
“That’s a trick question. There isn’t a gift better than mine.”
What! The pressure jumped to stage critical!
“Conrad,” Barrow beckoned, waving him over.
Conrad kissed her brow. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
His voice was all calm–but she was all panic. “Sure, uh, thing.”
Jane was a bundle of nerves as she waited for Conrad to pick her up for their Valentine’s Day date. He was late. Three minutes and forty-eight seconds late, to be exact. Had something bad happened?
“That dress is a dragon slayer,” Tiffany said with a nod of approval.
They occupied the cottage living room, with Rolex curled up next to Jane, gazing adoringly at the widow. The crush had grown into a full-fledged obsession.
“Thank you.” Despite the cold, she’d selected a summer fit-and-flare for the festivities. Pastel strips, exaggerated vee between the bust, and thin shoulder straps. Though she’d added her royal purple wrap coat. Might not fit the season, but it was a favorite dress, and she’d never worn it. What better day than Valentine’s Day with her love? Rather than a hat, she wore a pink bow in her hair. “To be honest, I think I would prefer your outfit right now.”
The widow managed to wow in an oversize T-shirt, ratty sweatpants and furry house slippers. Her dark locks were anchored in a messy bun. She lounged on the couch, balancing a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream on her stomach. The perfect style for a night of internal sleuthing. Exactly what Jane longed to do. Think.
Why did Tom take the time to invent the Gentleman but not plant better evidence? The supposed crime boss had slipped under local law enforcement’s radar, as well as that of GBH agents, who’d probably scoured the town repeatedly since the murder.
Had Tom truly killed Deputy Gunn to protect his escape plan? If so, why had he picked a name linked to himself? The whole point of disappearing was, well, disappearing. Two and two weren’t adding up to four. And if she was getting three, that meant Tom Cat might not be the killer.
So who was? And where was Conrad, anyway? He’d never been late.
“This Valentine's Day I’m dating myself, and I’m excited about it.” Excitement crackled in Tiffany’s eyes. “It was Rolex’s idea, wasn’t it, sugar?” She leaned over to pet him. “The sweetest little cookie suggested we celebrate all things me. I’m amazing, and it’s time I realized it.”
Jane tsked her tongue. “My darling little boy is determined to play near the wolf’s den. I should probably shout danger, danger, but that will only send him deeper inside.”
Rolex purred even louder, proclaiming his agreement.
Tiffany giggled, which caused Jane to giggle, and soon they were laughing together. Something akin to affection arced between them. A friends-for-life type of connection, and it sort of freaked her out.
She whipped out her phone, desperate for a distraction. Maybe she’d missed a message from Conrad. Nope. But she had missed texts from Beau and Ashley.
