Page 86 of Little Dark Deeds

I hadn’t felt that satisfied with myself in some time.

“If you ever lay a hand on me again, you’ll lose it,” I spat.

“I was just teasing.Lighten up.”

Leaning forward, I drilled a finger into his chest.“It’s no wonder you can’t keep a woman.You don’t know how to treat one.”

“Careful, now.I could report this little harassment of yours to the police.”

“You won’t.”

“And why’s that?”

“You may think you know about me, sure—and about my interest in the investigation—but that little stunt with my rearend tells me you missed researching one crucial detail: my husband.You should ask your people to do a little digging on him while they’re at it.My husband’s family ...well, they’re a fascinating read.One might even say frightening.Not for me, but certainly for a scumbag like you.”

CHAPTER 30

The way I saw it, therewere four major suspects in Tiffany’s murder.The first, and most obvious was Tyler, whose motive centered around the woman he’d lost and couldn’t live without.When Tiffany dismissed him and all possibility of a future together, had his sorrow turned to rage?

Then there was Tyler’s wife, Jana.If she were the killer, the clever move would have been for her to eliminate Tiffany without ever revealing she knew about the affair, thus seeming innocent.Instead, she’d gone to Tiffany, discussing her knowledge of the affair in public.Killing her at that point wouldn’t have been a smart move.

And while many lies had been told, the biggest of them all was still Tyler’s affair.

Moving on to suspect three, Chad seemed like the least likely of the candidates.But the more I considered how sloppy the murders were—impulsive, in broad daylight, lacking a great deal of planning—the more my thoughts kept drifting back to him.He, too, could have had a similar motive to Tyler.Twice they’d tried dating, and twice he’d been rejected.Had the sting of being cast aside for another man been more than he could bear?

My fourth suspect was the arrogant Landon Fairfax, a man I’d come to loathe after a mere ten minutes together.I wanted nothing more than for him to be the murderer.

But was he?

I got the impression losing his temper was a regular part of his routine, something he did more often than not.

I considered those possibilities and more as my cell phone rang.I put the call on speaker, and Whitlock said, “Georgiana, you there?”

He sounded out of breath and tense, unlike his usual jovial self.

“I’m here,” I said.