Finn sounded impressed. Most law enforcement members were when they saw her in action in an interrogation room. She wasn’t an arrogant woman, but she knew if anyone could delve into a killer’s psyche and unearth its secrets, it was her. Call it a gift, or maybe a curse, but people opened up to her. Particularly violent, delusional people.
“I’ll speak to Gideon tomorrow and let you know what happens,” she said as she rose from the chair. “And I need those files.”
Finn was already reaching into his desk drawer. He extracted a pitifully thin blue folder, rounded the desk and handed it to her. “Thanks for doing this. I know it’s probably not how you wanted to spend your vacation.”
She released a rueful breath. “Trust me, this will be much more exciting than anything else I could have planned.”
“The only excitement I want is the kind you get from making an arrest,” Finn answered with a sullen look. “We’re getting ten calls a day, demanding we get this, and I quote, evil murderer, off our streets.”
Jamie tucked the folder under her arm and shot him a reassuring smile. “Well, that’s why I’m here.” Her jaw hardened in determination. “I’ll do everything in my power to help you catch this guy, Finn. I promise you that.”
Chapter 3
Jamie spent the entire evening and following morning going over the meager files Finn had given her, and by the time afternoon rolled around, she hadn’t gained any insights about the case. Teresa Donovan had argued with her ex-husband in the parking lot of a bar, gone home at midnight, and two hours or so later, took a bullet to the heart.
Until the forensic results came back, there was nothing to prove that Cole Donovan had killed his ex-wife. He had the motive, sure, but Jamie still couldn’t reconcile the man she’d spoken with yesterday with a cold-blooded killer. Besides, judging by Finn’s notes, half the town had a motive when it came to Teresa.
By three o’clock, Jamie finally closed the case folder and left the cozy suite she was renting at Serenade’s only bed-and-breakfast. Joe Gideon had agreed to meet with her at four o’clock, and since she had an hour to kill, she decided to head into the town and poke around. The townsfolk probably wouldn’t want to talk to a stranger, but maybe someone would have something to offer. And if not, she could always sit in the town diner for a bit and eavesdrop.
As it turned out, she did neither of those things. After finding a parking space right on Main Street, she hopped out of the SUV, glanced at a store window and got sidetracked. She stood in front of a small art gallery, admiring a gorgeous oil painting that captured the town of Serenade so beautifully she found herself walking inside.
“Can I help you with anything?” a pleasant female voice asked.
Jamie looked over at the narrow counter by the door, surprised to find the same brunette she’d glimpsed by the fountain yesterday. Up close, the woman was even more beautiful, with the creamy pale skin of a cosmetics model, enormous liquid brown eyes, and a cupid’s bow mouth that had Jamie feeling envious.
“I’m interested in the painting in the window, the one of the town,” she answered. “Is it for sale?”
The brunette nodded. “It just came in last week. One of our local artists painted it, Miranda Lee. She’s unbelievably talented.”
“Her work is beautiful,” Jamie agreed.
The woman hopped off the tall stool she was sitting on and headed over to the easel by the window. “I’ve got it priced at three hundred,” she said over her shoulder, “but I’m sure the artist would be willing to lower the price if it’s too steep for you.”
“It’s fine,” Jamie reassured. “And I’ll take it. It’ll look fantastic hanging in my living room.”
The brunette gave a wide smile. “Wonderful. I’ll just wrap it up for you then.” As she gently lifted the canvas from the easel, she shot Jamie a curious look. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Jamie laughed and gestured to her business attire. “I stick out like a sore thumb, don’t I?”
“Kind of.” With a smile, the brunette extended one delicate hand. “I’m Sarah Connelly, by the way. I own this place.”
“Jamie Crawford,” she answered as she shook Sarah’s hand. “I’m in town helping out a friend. You probably know him, actually. Patrick Finnegan, the sheriff?”
It was as if a light switch had been flicked off. One moment Sarah’s fair face was animated and friendly, the next, it went pale and expressionless.
“Sure, I know Finn,” Sarah replied, a slight edge to her voice.
Well, okay. Definitely some history there, but Jamie knew not to push for details. She could always ask Finn about it later. From the distrustful crease marring Sarah Connelly’s forehead, it was obvious the woman wasn’t going to answer any personal questions.
“So I guess you’re here because of Teresa Donovan,” Sarah added, her motions stiff as she placed the canvas on the counter and bent down to get a roll of bubble wrap.
“I am. I’m with the FBI,” Jamie admitted. “The sheriff asked for my input on the case.” When Sarah didn’t reply, she decided to do some fishing. Might as well, seeing as this woman seemed to know both Finn and the victim. “Were you close to Teresa?”
An incredulous laugh popped out of Sarah’s mouth. She quickly cut it short, offering an apologetic look. “Sorry, I don’t mean to disrespect the dead or anything. It’s just that you’re not going to find any female in this town who was close to that woman.”
Jamie raised her eyebrows. “Who hated who?”
“Oh, it went both ways. Teresa was … Let’s just say she wasn’t concerned with things like wedding bands.” Sarah shook her head. “In Teresa’s eyes, any man was fair game, even if he was taken. The women here didn’t take kindly to her throwing herself at their men.”
“What about the single ones?”
Sarah shrugged. “Teresa saw them as competition. She didn’t want or need friends.”
“What about when she married Cole?”
“What about it?” Sarah taped up the edge of the bubble wrap, grabbed a large paper bag and gingerly slid the canvas into it. “Marriage didn’t stop Teresa from going after any man she saw.”
Jamie had been trying very hard not to feel sympathy for Cole, but Sarah’s words brought a slight ache to her chest. Murder suspect or not, she didn’t envy the man. She couldn’t imagine how disgraced he must have felt, how badly his pride had been damaged knowing that his wife was not just unfaithful, but openly unfaithful.
But was he humiliated enough to kill her?
Her methodical brain piped up and she couldn’t ignore the question it raised. When it came to motive, Cole really did have a doozy of one, didn’t he?
“Let me just ring that up for you,” Sarah said, moving to the cash register.
