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)
She was similar in size to the widow Hotchkins and Nurse Miller. What if she had broken into Jane’s?
“Welcome,” she said, spreading her arms to emphasize the entire gallery. “Are you here for something particular?”
“I am. I’m here to speak with you.” He shifted the lapel of his suit jacket to reveal his badge. “I’m Special Agent Ryan. I’d like to clarify some details concerning your relationship with Dr. Marcus Hotchkins.”
She nearly missed her next step. But she recovered quickly, pasting a bright if brittle smile on her face. “What’s there to clarify? I didn’t have a relationship with Mark. Marcus. He was my best friend’s husband, and I spoke to him occasionally.”
So she’d decided to kick things off with a lie. He removed his sunglasses, saying, “Good to hear. You have nothing to fear, then, as my team finishes their deep dive into every aspect of the doctor’s life. Currently they’re following a financial trail that leads straight to the doors of his many mistresses. Those who lie about a connection to him are being brought in for formal questioning. But like I said, you have no reason to fear.”
Paling, she shifted from one foot to the other. “I might have, maybe, possibly—hypothetically—met him at a motel a few times. But only a few times, and I always felt horribly guilty afterward. But you can’t tell Tiff! She’ll never forgive me, and she needs me right now. She’s never needed anyone more.”
The same selfish, deceitful logic he’d heard from admitted killers. “Did you treasure hunt with the doctor?”
“No!” she assured him a little too swiftly.
No elaboration? “At the Grind, you questioned Caroline Whittington regarding the doctor’s gold, did you not?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I said I didn’t hunt with him, not that I’m ignorant of the gold. Tiff mentioned his obsession a few times. And my friend Emma Miller—she works with him. We had a little too much to drink one night, and she told me how she found a nugget in Mark’s pocket. I just wondered if anyone else had seen it, that’s all. I thought I could maybe, I don’t know, find my own and save my mother’s gallery.”
Emma Miller again. Her fingers were in every pot.
“Hey,” Waynes-Kirkland piped up. “Whoever killed Mark must have carried him to the cemetery to bury him. He never would have stepped foot on the property otherwise. He feared death. That’s why he worked so hard to keep his patients alive. Now, do I look like I can lift a body? And risk breaking a nail to dig a hole? Never.”
Fear of death? This was the first Conrad had heard of it. Was she spinning a tale for him…or had Hotchkins spun a tale for her? “Have you visited the Garden of Memories recently?”
“The cemetery?” Her face scrunched with disgust. “No. Gross.” She backed away from him, her brittle smile reappearing. “Are we done here?”
For now. “Thank you for your time. I’ll call you if I have any further questions.”
“And I’ll answer, promise.” She waved him off.
Sighing, Conrad strode from the building. He drove back to Atlanta, determined to gather everything he needed to arm himself for tomorrow’s confrontation. Another conversation with Mrs. Miller.
Late the next morning, Conrad and Barrow hopped in an SUV to return to Aurelian Hills. A gloomy sky promised a storm at any moment. Not that the other agent cared. He sat behind the wheel, beaming all kinds of sunshine as he talked up his kids.
They had two tasks to complete today. Remove the crime scene tape at the Garden and speak with Emma Miller.
Sure, someone else could perform the first, but the thought of seeing Jane again… Yeah. Conrad needed to see her.
A text pinged his phone, and he checked the screen. Jane. He grinned. Had she sensed his thoughts?
He read the message, his grin fading.
Jane: Ran into Dr. Garcia (not my fault!) We chatted. He says he’s innocent. I also bumped into Abigail Waynes-Kirkland at Gold Fever! She thinks there’s gold buried in my cemetery. She heard it from Tiffany, who read Dr. Hotchkins’s notes about it. Thoughts??????
All this happened today? Conrad pinched the bridge of his nose. So. Waynes-Kirkland was more of a gold hunter than she’d copped to. Was she the one who’d broken into Jane’s home or not?
He jabbed a fingertip at the screen of his phone, typing in all caps. MY THOUGHTS ARE NOT FIT FOR TEXTING. Then he deleted it. Jane might take those words as flirting rather than a stern rebuke.
Therefore, he typed a straight up rebuke. Deleted it. How could he chide Jane for being, well…Jane? The quality he admired most about her?
Finally he settled on a single word: Thanks.
No encouragement, but no chastisement, either. As the seconds passed, however, he stewed in worry. He typed up a second text. Are you being safe? Legit gold or not, the mere suspicion puts you in danger.