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“Yes. And we think we’ve already identified who has a prescription for it. During the course of the investigation, we learned Mason Thorton has a genetic condition that causes his heart to race at random intervals.”
Connection! This one led to Mason, as well as Abigail, who most likely had unfettered access to her fiancé’s medication. But was this too easy?
No. Nothing about this case was easy, and this explanation fit what Jane had suspected from the beginning. “So I was right all along. Abigail Waynes-Kirkland is involved. Maybe with Mason’s aid, maybe not. Probably not. Who’s dumb enough to use their own medication? Meaning, this could be a setup to blame the ex-husband. A continuation of the cat-and-mouse game. Unless that’s what we’re supposed to think, and Mason is using reverse psychology. Did he and Abigail work with a hitman? Perhaps Jacob. What better reason to off him? He knew their secrets. And what about Lucy?”
Had she lied about what she’d seen? Jane stiffened. What if the former bank officer was involved and a woman did the deed?
Conrad echoed Jane’s suspicions, saying, “Lucy stole fifty thousand dollars mere months ago. She’s obviously for hire. Someone could’ve paid her to weave a false narrative.”
Jane’s stomach sank. Perhaps. And all along she’d been falling for her friend’s act. Again. “What if she’d been in on it from the beginning?”
“Yes. What if?” Conrad gave Jane’s temple another kiss. “Keep walking me through your thought process.”
Very well. “At the time of Hannah’s murder, Abigail is grocery shopping and having her nails done. Lucy is in the room with me, and someone is behind me. Maybe Jacob. Did Lucy pretend to attempt to warn me to throw me off the scent? Except, she didn’t corroborate Abigail’s story about seeing a woman run out the front door. And why would Lucy need to flee? Did she actually make the 911 call to report an unconscious dark-haired woman, all to galvanize both you and the fire department, starting the game?”
Although, again, Lucy’s terror struck Jane as genuine. But considering she’d taken a whack to the head, how accurate was her memory and judgment? Plus, the woman had snowed her once before.
“Maybe Jacob chose to come forward,” she continued, “causing Abigail and Lucy to panic. They decided to kill him and use the opportunity to take out the sheriff while hobbling his crack investigator fiancée with emotional anguish. So Abigail stole Mason’s pills, hoping to blame the man she supposedly loves, even knowing we’d suspect her. Yet, she convinced herself we’d only be able to prove Mason’s involvement, never hers. He’d go to jail, and she could spend what remained of his money after Lucy got her cut.” If she didn’t strike again, killing another partner.
It all made sense. But was it on target?
“I’ve got my deputies looking deeper into Waynes-Kirkland, Lucy and Mr. Thorton,” Conrad said. So he’d suspected them before hearing from Jane? Such a smart, smart man. “As soon as I’m solid on my feet, which will be no later than tomorrow, two of the three will be hauled in for formal questioning.”
Jane and Conrad discussed the particulars until his dismissal from the hospital. He was surprisingly steady. As they passed through the lobby, the gang noticed and followed them out. Wyatt and Susan had arrived, and once again, hugs abounded. And also, Jane had won a gift card registration journal.
Everyone followed Conrad to his adorable bungalow. In the driveway, a sedan Jane had never seen was parked next to her hearse. Hmm.
“Do we have a guest?” she asked.
“We do.” He said nothing more, but his leading tone prompted immediate curiosity.
How had the mystery person gotten inside?
Jane entered first and found Tiff balancing on a ladder, hanging a banner, while Rolex and Cheddar watched. Jane’s sister June clapped behind them, directing the other woman.
“To the left,” June said. She’d sucked up all the height genes in the family, standing at five foot eight. They shared the same dark hair, but her sister’s eyes were a deep, dark brown.
Noticing the crowd flooding into the living room, Tiffany and June called, “Happy engagement!”
“And even happier recovery!” Tiffany added. She climbed down, swiped a paper horn from a bowl, and blew. In addition to the banner, balloons were scattered along with bunting and a decoration that looked like someone tried to combine a blow-up engagement ring with a hospital gown.
Uh… “Are you okay with this?” Jane asked Conrad for his ears alone. He didn’t feel the greatest right now.
“They texted me, and I gave permission. Thought we could use a distraction.”
No, he’d thought Jane could use one. And she loved him so hard for it. As she took everything in, she spun the real engagement ring around her finger. Dread, joy, and love overflowed inside her. But she didn’t cry again. Because she refused. Though yes, she sniffled a bit as she made her way over to hug her sister and Tiffany for their efforts.
“It’s good to see you again,” she told June.
“Really? You mean it?” June brightened as if she’d just swallowed the sun. “I’m so glad you said that because I am here to stay! I’m starting over, and I thought, what better place than my sister’s hometown? I’ll help you with the wedding and with the Garden and we’ll get to know each other better and become best friends and life will be great. And I’m happy to be a bridesmaid if you need one. But no pressure! Except pressure! I’d love to be a bridesmaid.”
“Don’t hold your breath, expecting a request,” Tiffany announced. “I’ve nearly passed out every day.”
Jane laughed at the widow’s joke. Who knew Tiff would express a sense of humor? Of course, she wasn’t funny, but that wasn’t the point. That she felt comfortable enough to try, that she’d come here tonight to do something nice for Jane and Conrad, that was all that mattered. Any last remnants of resentment toward her several times removed relative completely faded.
Wait. Back up a bit. June was moving here? As in forever? Jane hadn’t seen her sister in years. Had barely spoken to her on the phone and only recently had they started texting regularly. Not that a couple texts every month equated to regularly.
Conrad closed the distance and wrapped an arm around Jane’s waist. “Hi. I’m the fiancé.”
