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“Follow me, and I’ll lead you out of the cemetery,” Jane instructed, launching down the pathway toward the parking lot. Her friends obeyed, and so did the stragglers, remaining close on her heels.
“Stay calm and stick together,” Christopher called, bringing up the rear in perfect teamwork. “Where are your hoses and buckets?” he demanded as soon as they reached the gate. Determination etched every line of his face.
“The shed.” Like most public areas, the Garden of Memories was required to have fire hydrants, but modern fire trucks had difficulty reaching the oldest parts of the cemetery, so provisions were made.
“Stay here and let the emergency personnel know where to go when they arrive.” He took a step in the wrong direction, and she caught his wrist. “I’ll take you there. Fiona, direct the firefighters,” she called. There wasn’t time to waste. If he got lost…
Jane meant to tell Raymond where she was headed, but he was busy seeing to the injured.
Once again, Jane led the way, passing the old business center. Were Conrad, Beau and the others okay? What had caused the explosion? An accident, or a killer determined to cause a distraction?
“Have you seen Donnie?” she asked.
“No, he told me he needed to leave.”
She balled her hands into fists. Had he done this?
The shed came into view, painted to blend into the scenery. Jane punched the correct code into the keypad lock–an upgrade thanks to Beau–and swept inside. Grimy windows allowed in broken shafts of light. The scent of gasoline, cut grass and dust filled her nose. Where were the hoses and buckets?
The bulk of sunlight vanished as the heavy doors shut. She turned, intending to ask Christopher to reopen the access, but the words died when she spotted what he clenched in his fist. A knife.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She held up her hands to ward him off as she backed up, putting distance between them. “What are you doing, Christopher? Why do you have a knife?”
“Please don’t be afraid of me,” he begged. Though his voice brimmed with reassurance, he never sheathed the weapon. “I didn’t mean to kill Hannah. And I love you. I would never hurt you.”
Jane’s jaw dropped, pieces of the puzzle linking, shocking her to her core. His motive made no sense! “You love me?” Although, she had no problem pegging him as the killer right now. All the clues…
His ex-girlfriend’s uncanny resemblance to Jane.
The phone call after Hannah’s murder to ensure he had an excuse to race to the Treasure Room.
How he always seemed to appear just as Jane needed him.
Tattling on Abigail and Maggie.
Finding the co-written manuscript.
Telling everyone about the secret tunnels.
But a profession of love? This, Jane never expected. “You don't love me,” she informed him. “You broke up with me. And also, no one has ever really killed for love, only hate-in-denial.”
“I told you. I didn’t mean to kill Hannah. And our breakup was supposed to flip a switch inside you so you’d do anything to win me back,” he admitted. “Yet you didn’t, and I thought I had let you go and moved on. Then Marcus Hotchkins died, and you reappeared in my life. But you didn’t see me.” His eyes narrowed. “I realized I had to make you see me.”
Conrad was right. Instead of being a man and telling you how he felt, he tried to get you to chase him by breaking up with you.
“You can't love me,” she said, gentling her tone. “You’re holding a knife, threatening my life.”
“I do love you,” he insisted, “and I’ll prove it. But I need you to listen to me, okay?” He took a step forward, and she took another backwards step. His eyelids narrowed again, and his grip on the weapon’s hilt tightened, his knuckles turning white. “I meant what I said. I didn’t plan to kill Hannah. Only intended to injure her.”
“Why?” Jane croaked. Keep him talking. “Why her?”
“She offered the biggest pool of suspects and gave you a chance to seek revenge against Abigail Waynes-Kirkland while also giving me an opportunity to ruin Maggie’s life for cheating on me with a coworker. She doesn’t know that I know, but I do.” Anger infused his voice. Then his posture softened. “I never intended to injure you in the Treasure Room, Jane. You arrived before I was ready…I didn’t expect…didn’t plan for how long it would take to…but I did catch you before you fell,” he ended proudly.
“As if that makes it better,” she snapped. Careful. He has a knife, remember?
“You were supposed to find an unconscious Hannah after I left. Then you would’ve called for help, allowing me to come to the rescue and revive her. You could launch an investigation. Since I was there and a hero, you’d want to include me, allowing me to prove I’m better for you than Conrad.” Once again, anger infused his tone. “But Hannah died, and I panicked, I admit it. I had no other choice but to work with the situation presented to me.” His hazel eyes implored her to understand. “I had no intention of striking you, but Lucy revealed herself, and my body acted of its own accord.”
Air hitched in Jane’s lungs, the rest of the story writing itself. “You did it. You left the grocery store without the other firemen noticing. But they told Conrad you guys stayed together.”
