Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
I don’t know! That was kind of what Conrad needed help figuring out. “There’s this woman. Jane…”
CHAPTER FIVE
Treat your mysterious past like bait. Dangle tidbits here and there to keep the fish of the sea biting.
–A Gravekeeper’s Guide to Dating
The next day, Conrad threw himself into his work. He chased leads, checked more alibis, and drove to and from Aurelian Hills for in-person interviews. He never connected with Anthony Miller–they merely played phone tag–but the team pieced together enough clues to identify a handful of nicknames found in Hotchkins’s planner.
Emma Miller wasn’t among them–yet. But they had learned the doctor had followed the same script with all his women. Same time, same motel, same room. He’d worked out a long-standing deal with a clerk there. That clerk had identified Mrs. Miller as a semi-frequent guest. And a liar.
But, though she’d outright denied the affair, she had told the truth about calling Tiffany and speaking with Garcia on her personal computer the night of the murder. The discussion between boss and nurse had lasted two hours and eighteen minutes, to be exact, putting the nurse at home and Garcia at the office at the time of Hotchkins’s death.
But. Though Emma and Garcia were each other’s alibis, they couldn’t prove they’d remained in front of their computers the entire length of the video. They could have banded together to rid themselves of a common enemy: Leave the chat room open to create a digital record, sneak into the cemetery, and boom, murder Hotchkins.
A wild theory, yes, but something Conrad planned to keep on a shelf in his mind for further study.
So far Jane’s name had not graced the pages of the planner.
Instead of working all night, he went home and watched his cell, hoping for another call from her. To his surprise, the gravekeeper phoned Sheriff Moore bright and early the next morning, Conrad’s day off. The sheriff then called him. She thought she’d found the murder weapon. Of course, she didn’t know Dr. Hotchkins died due to his fall. Conrad suspected she’d discovered the object used to crack open the victim’s skull. In only a matter of minutes, he would question her about it face to face.
A now recognizable anticipation prickled the back of his neck as he parked the sedan in front of her cottage. He emerged into the afternoon light, anchored an arm of his sunglasses inside the neckline of his T-shirt, and walked toward the porch. As he scaled the steps, the door opened, gifting him with a new glimpse of Jane Ladling.
Punch. She stood in the gaping doorframe, wearing a yellow dress, reminding him of a ray of sunshine. Any lingering agitation got knocked smooth out of him. That sweet peace returned, and he breathed deep for the first time in days.
“Welcome back,” she burst out, as if she could suppress the words no longer. She might have just curtseyed.
Fighting a grin, he nodded and strode past her, entering the cottage. Conrad looked around. Well-worn and well-loved described her home perfectly. His dress shoes should have clacked against the hardwood floors, but the living area was packed with too much sound deadening stuff. Framed photos, amateur paintings and art from at least four different decades graced the wall.
She moved around him and eased upon the floral print couch with the grace of a debutante. Fiona Lawrence occupied a rocker near the hearth, with a lap full of yarn and two knitting needles in hand. Such a homey picture they presented.
Needing a moment to recover, he focused on the older woman.
“Good afternoon, Fiona. Good to see you again.” The woman had tried to insert herself into his personal life and set him up on a date. Forget formalities.
Rolex jumped from the couch and sashayed over, perching at his feet and staring up at him with big yellow beseeching eyes. Their one-sided war had ended? So soon?
Conrad bent down to scratch the little warrior behind the—with a hiss, Rolex clawed his hand hard and fast, leaving two round punctures with jagged tails. Blood welled, and Conrad swallowed a snort. “Good to see you, too, Rolex,” he called as the feline bounded off.
Fiona waved the needles in his direction. “Are you trying to charm me into whipping up my blueberry pancakes, young man?” Humphing, the older woman returned her attention to her knitting. “Aw. You poor thing. Your request is denied for reasons.” She paused before oh, so sweetly adding, “Unless you ask real polite.”
“Ask real polite,” Jane beseeched him. “Please, Conrad.” She pressed her hands together, assuming a classic begging stance. “There’s always time for pancakes.”
Regret swamped him. “I’m sorry, but I’m on the clock.” The moment his boss approved his request to pick up the weapon, his day off had become a day on. He simply hadn’t changed out of his T-shirt and jeans.