“Please don’t fret. I won’t harm you, all right?” Caroline continued. “I’m not a bad person. I’m really not. Before Marcus, I’d never hurt anyone. You’re going to sleep for a bit. That’s all. Just let it happen. When you wake, I’ll be gone. You can pretend this was a terrible dream.”
Truth? Lies? She tried to shout for help, but no sound emerged. She fought with all her might. Her limbs refused to cooperate. Helpless? No! But no matter what she did, she remained immobile and silent.
“I refuse to go to jail for defending my honor.” The self-admitted murderer rushed around the room. Different sounds registered. The rustle of clothing. The squeak of tennis shoes. A clink of…glass? “I loved him. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. I shouldn’t have moved to Aurelian Hills, but those decades old rumors are true. The proof is in the Gold Fever! exhibit. I was born to find gold, Jane. Marcus caught me studying between patients. I shared things with him I’d never shared with another. My maps. The code.” Bitterness infused her tone. “Why? Why did I do that? All along he planned to steal everything for himself!”
Ohhhh. This happened for love and money. Jane had absolutely guessed some of this. Hadn’t she? She’d guessed a thousand other things, too, but come on! Give her some credit. You had to explore every angle to find the right one, probably. The fact that Conrad had only been halfway right about the motive, well, Jane could live with that.
Please, let me live with that. How did Caroline even expect to get past Beau?
Beau! Jane must warn him of the danger. Fighting...fighting so much harder…her heart slammed against her ribs. “Yew wosh gwet…”
“Mr. Harden,” Caroline called with a frantic tone. “Help me! Something’s wrong with Jane!”
“Nnnn,” she tried to shout.
The door immediately opened, hinges squeaking.
“She’s having trouble breathing, and I can’t get her dress off her. Help me save her and get that corset off her body.”
Jane sensed his presence at her side. His head and his clean scent. His strong fingers working her gown. Fighting…a finger moved.
“Jane,” he cried. “Stay with me. Something’s wrong with her, Dr. Whitting—”
An intake of breath. A heavy thud. No, no, no. Beau had just hit the floor, hadn’t he, as drugged and helpless as Jane?
“I’m sorry. I really am,” Caroline said, confirming her worst fears. Once again, the PA puttered about. She moved at a more harried clip, opening and closing cabinets. Taking things she might need? “This is all Marcus’s fault. His stupid affairs! He owed so much money. Did you know he was being blackmailed and paying secret child support?”
No. And dang Conrad to heck for not telling her. A second finger twitched. Then a third. I can do this!
“I never should have told him what I’d found at the cemetery,” Caroline continued. “Never should have invited him to help me search for more. Why did Emma have to walk into the room that day? She and her swaying ponytail ruined everything! He ruined everything.” A laugh, just as bitter as her words. “If he’d just kept his word to me, none of this would have ever happened. I had a right to my anger!”
Anger? No. Rage. A moment of rage had ruined the woman’s life. Well, and Dr. Hotchkins’s.
What would have happened if Jane had killed Emma when she’d lashed out about Rolex? Her stomach twisted. Lesson learned. Control mattered.
“I did everything right. I got rid of Garcia for the day and took your appointment. I fed you information, weaving in enough misdirection. The symbol should have worked. The posts should have worked. I gave them too many suspects to ever pick just one. Convincing Emma to break into your home and visit Fiona should have worked. I could have lived my life the way I always dreamed. Now I’m forced to start over. Again.”
Jane’s hand curled into a fist. The haze over her eyes dulled, bits of color coming into view. With great effort, she angled her head. Yes, Beau lay sprawled on the floor. Caroline stood near the door, zipping a bag.
A crash sounded, startling the PA, who dropped the bag and stumbled back.
“Jane!”
Conrad. Her heart leaped and flipped.
“Help,” she managed to gasp out. She even pulled herself into an upright position and drew the other woman’s attention.
With a cry, Caroline swiped up a pair of stitch cutters from the cart and darted behind Jane. As a furious Conrad barreled into the room, a gun in hand and a second agent at his heels, the murdering PA pressed the scissors against Jane’s carotid.
Panic flared as Conrad took aim. Jane could only sit there, her body not fully her own to command. She gazed at the pallid Conrad, who’d never looked so fierce or terrified.
He kept his weapon raised and rock steady. “Let her go. Hurting her will only make things worse for you.”