Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
She murmured her agreement, her heavy eyelids already closing. “Maybe I’ll grab a short wee little nap.”
“Good idea.” The wonderful man swept her into his arms. “Couch or bed?”
“Bed please.”
His chest puffed with something akin to contentment as he carried her to the main bedroom. A mattress cushioned her as he gently laid her down. Excellent. The softness reached her preferred firmness level: clouds.
He kissed her brow, whispering, “I’ll return as quickly as humanly possible.” Clothing rustled, and a door snicked closed.
Jane drifted off…until a cold hand clutched her arm and shook her.
“Ms. Ladling. Jane. Wake up.”
What the—she blinked open her eyes and gasped. Jessica Thacker stood at the side of the bed, pale and trembling. She held a gun.
Jane jolted upright. “What are you doing? Why are you here? Why are you pointing a gun at me?”
The first lady licked her lips. “You will pick up your cell phone and call Mr. Ryan. You will tell him to release Tom, or I will kill you.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Thou shall remember that behind every great politician, there's an unsung heroine of style and snack management.
–Jane Ladling’s Campaign Companion Code
Fully awake, Jane gawked at the intruder. Jessica’s usually perfectly coiffed hair hung to her shoulders in utter dishevelment. A heavy, angry flush painted her cheeks in an uneven, mottled hue. Tear marks streaked her once flawless, subtle makeup. Her silk blouse was rumpled, her wool pants wrinkled. Gone was her poise and grace, replaced by vulnerability and desperation.
The mayor’s wife backed away, but maintained her aim. “Grab the phone. Slowly.”
“How did you get in? Why are you doing this?” Her heart raced, and her stomach twisted. Nerve endings hummed with apprehension as she reached for her cell phone. “What do you hope to gain by this?”
“Hurry!” Jessica snapped, ignoring her questions. The gun shook in her grip.
“I can’t go slow and hurry at the same time.” Jane considered her options. During their first case, Conrad had given her self-defense lessons. Should she risk going for the weapon? Toss a pillow in her attacker’s face and run? Push for answers?
“Slow,” the other woman grated.
At a pace a snail would envy, Jane clasped the phone and stood. Push for answers won. “You won’t shoot me, Jessie.” Establish a connection–check. Now, to be both firm and friendly, showing refusal to back down, but it was okay because they’d both benefit from it. “You need me to make the call. I’m happy to do it, but only after I know what’s going on. Tell me why you’re doing this. You weren’t considered a person of interest any longer.” Mostly. “You were free and clear.”
Jessica scowled at her. “No one is ever free after meeting Thomas Bennett.” She tossed an expectant look over her shoulder, as if searching for something. Whatever she saw calmed her, and she smiled. “But we will be.”
Jane blinked. “We?”
“Hello, Cemetery Girl.” A sweet-faced Tiffany entered the room and waved. “I hope you don’t mind, but I used the guest facilities.”
What! Betrayal? From Tiffany? No. No, no, no. Not her, the one Rolex so stalwartly adored. “How could you do this?”
Tiffany only had eyes for Jessica. Frowning, she pushed the first lady’s hand down, lowering the barrel of the gun. “I told you a weapon wouldn’t be needed.”
Stubborn as a mule, Jessica aimed at Jane once more.
The widow exhaled heavily, then shrugged. “I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on, Jane. Well, I’ll tell you. Jessie came for breakfast this morning. We discussed our mutual Tom problem. She had a solution, so I signed on to Team Freedom and gave her Conrad’s spare key. It’s helpful when you label things.”
“I thought we had a friends-for-life moment,” Jane said, pressing her palms against her stomach to calm the sudden flight of butterflies.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Friends? You and me?” Tiffany scoffed. “I’m tired of being blackmailed, and I’m finally going to do something about it. Do you know how horrified I’d be if Tom posted videos of our private moments?”
Jane gnashed her teeth. “You told me you two only kissed.”
“Stop acting like a child. I lied,” the widow said, tossing her arms up. “Obviously.”
Yes, but how could Tiffany do this? How could she threaten another life? Rolex loved and respected her. “Rolex may never forgive you for this.”
“He’s a cat. I’ll get over it,” she responded dryly, the final nail in her coffin.
“You are dead to me,” Jane snapped, “and not in a good way.”
“None of this was supposed to happen,” Jessica cried. “For eleven months, I’ve met each of Tom’s demands. I was saving to buy him off, but noooo. The deputy had to go and die, bringing the authorities onto the scene.” Once she started talking, she erupted with information, unable to hold back her stream of grievances. “When the investigation into Josh’s murder heated up, Tom vowed to blast footage of us if ever he landed behind bars.”