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“How can I rest?” She scooched into a sitting position against the scratchy pillowcase. “I just discovered another dead body.”
Tiffany offered a noise of disgust. “Because of course you did.”
“Maybe someone has mentioned something on the Headliner,” Jane said, fiddling with the edge of her paper-thin blanket.
“Fine. I know a hint when I hear it.” The widow whipped out her phone. “I’ll start searching now.”
Beau glowered at her, while Fiona wagged a finger. “You’re not supposed to encourage this, Tiff,” the older woman said, clearly trying to remind her of a previous conversation.
Tiffany sputtered a protest. “You’re paying me a stack of blueberry pancakes to distract her, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
With a sigh, Fiona clasped Jane’s hands. “We’re more interested in what happened to you. It’s not like you to faint.”
“I didn’t. Someone hit me from behind.” Her gaze swung to Beau. “You don’t have security cameras installed inside the Treasure Room, do you?”
Her best friend shifted his weight from one combat boot to the other, still saying nothing.
“There’s no such thing as security client privilege, you know. I believe I’ve mentioned that before.”
His lips quirked. “You’ve mentioned it, yes.”
She replied with a sunny smile. “Never mind. I’ve already followed the clues and deduced the answer. No, you don’t. Otherwise you’d be with Conrad, watching the footage.”
The color filling his cheeks answered for him. “I had a meeting with Hannah on the books for next week.”
“Oh.” Now that was a good tidbit of information. “Did she mention why?” A stalker? Harassment by her ex, perhaps?
“Shoplifting.”
Well. That was disappointing, to say the least. Though it might point to Abigail.
“I’m honestly surprised it took this long for someone to whack you over the head,” Tiffany said, scrolling on her phone.
“Let’s put the investigation talk on hold until we’ve spoken with the doctor,” Fiona suggested in a no-nonsense tone. “We don’t even know what injuries Jane has sustained.”
“Good advice,” announced a woman in scrubs and a white coat as she swept into the small room. “I’m Dr. Lacipo, and I’ll be checking you out today.”
After Jane’s friends filed out, the doctor got to work. With quick efficiency, Dr. Lacipo palpated the back of Jane’s head, checked her pupils, her responsiveness, and her motor function. “No signs of concussion.”
Jane heaved a sigh of relief.
“I’ll initiate the discharge paperwork, but you need to take it easy for the next couple of days.”
“Sure, doc.” Wasn’t like investigative work was hard.
“I’ll be sending you home with a list of instructions. Follow them. Judging by the crowd waiting in the hall, you have someone to drive you.”
“That will be me,” Conrad said, striding past the curtain, his expression grimmer than Jane had ever seen it. Her stomach began to churn all over again.
He flashed his badge, and the doctor fled.
“What?” Jane demanded, hit by dread. “Did you not find the cat?”
“No, not yet.” He sat at her bedside and took her hand. Did she detect a slight tremor?
“I’ve got men searching for Lucy Chang. We will find her, I promise you. And the cat.”
Jane finally put two and two together. What if the feline was Lucy’s cat Cartier? But why would Lucy and Cartier be in the secret chamber at the Treasure Room long enough to require a litter box? “What about the murder?”
