Page 36 of Dirty Valentine
I counted the red pins.“Seventeen unmarked graves?Patricia said they’d found burial sites, but she didn’t mention this many.”
Jack’s jaw tightened as he traced his finger across the map.“Either she didn’t know the full extent, or she was holding back.”
Seventeen people.The number sat like lead in my stomach.“That’s not a few random burials—that’s systematic elimination.If Thomas was right about this…”
“If Thomas was right about the conspiracy,” Jack said.“That’s a lot of people who would have had to disappear to make room for the land grab.”
We spent the next thirty minutes going through Thomas’s files, looking for any reference to JMH.His research was extensive and carefully documented, with cross-references and supporting evidence that painted a picture of a man obsessed with uncovering the truth.But there was nothing that pointed to who he might have had dinner with on the night he died.
“Nothing,” I said, closing the last folder and rubbing my tired eyes.“If JMH exists, Thomas was being very careful about keeping that connection private.”
Jack leaned back in Thomas’s desk chair, surveying the organized chaos of the office.“Could be someone he was trying to protect.If he was meeting with a family member who was willing to share information about their ancestor’s involvement, he might not have wanted to create a paper trail that could expose them.”
As we locked up Thomas’s office and headed back toward the parking garage, the weight of what we’d learned settled over me like a heavy blanket.Thomas’s extracurricular activities shed new light on a few things.
“We need to take a deeper look at Patricia Whitman,” I said, voicing what we were both thinking.“The grieving widow act seems a little thick now that we know her husband had a tendency to stray.”
“One of the oldest motives in the book,” Jack agreed.“Maybe the setup was just window dressing.”
The storm clouds that had been threatening finally opened up as we reached the Tahoe, fat raindrops hitting the pavement with the violence of accusation.By the time we were inside the vehicle, the drops had turned into a steady downpour that drummed against the roof and turned the campus walkways into rivers.
“The question is what to do next,” Jack said as he navigated through the streaming rain.“We need to verify Margaret’s alibi with the online grading system, and we need to have another conversation with Patricia Whitman.”
“The one where we ask her if it bothered her to share her husband’s affections,” I said, watching the windshield wipers fight their losing battle against the deluge.
“That’s going to be a fun conversation,” Jack said grimly.“But first, how do you feel about stopping for a donut?”
“I was just thinking I could use a snack.”
The rain was coming down harder now, turning the Virginia countryside into a watercolor painting where the edges of everything blurred together.It seemed fitting, somehow, for a case where nothing was quite what it appeared to be, and the truth was as elusive as shadows dancing in the mist.
CHAPTERELEVEN
The rain had finally stoppedby the time we pulled into one of the angled parking spaces that surrounded King George’s historic Towne Square, though pewter clouds still threatened overhead like a storm that couldn’t make up its mind.It was one of those picture-perfect spaces filled with reminders of a different era—cobblestone streets, American flags, gas streetlamps, and antique hitching posts.
But today, something felt off.Maybe it was the way the Spanish moss hung too still in the humid air, or how the usual foot traffic seemed sparse for a weekday afternoon.Even the cheerful pink-and-white-striped awning of Lady Jane’s Donuts, nestled between a women’s clothing boutique and an art gallery in the middle of the block, looked somehow garish against the brooding sky.
“The baby wants a donut,” I announced.“And then tacos for lunch.”
Jack’s mouth quirked in that way that meant he was fighting a smile.“The baby’s pretty opinionated for someone who doesn’t have a job.”
I snorted out a laugh and Jack opened the door for me to Lady Jane’s.The bell chimed with false cheer as we entered, the sound somehow too bright for the heaviness that had been following us all morning.The interior was a deliberate throwback to simpler times—white subway tiles, vintage cake stands displaying the day’s offerings, and mason jar light fixtures that cast a warm glow over everything.The sugar-scented comfort of yeast and glaze bombarded my senses and I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes.
Behind the counter stood Jane herself—a woman in her early forties who looked like she’d stepped out of a 1950s magazine and never quite found her way back to the present.Her dark hair was styled in perfect victory rolls, her red lipstick was flawless, and she wore a fitted blue dress with white bobby socks and saddle shoes.A frilly apron tied around her waist completed the look, though I’d always suspected the vintage aesthetic was carefully calculated to charm the steady stream of male customers who kept her business thriving.
She looked up as we entered, and her face immediately lit up with recognition—though her gaze lingered on Jack a beat too long for my comfort.
“Well, well,” Jane said, her professional smile not quite reaching her eyes.“Sheriff Lawson and Dr.Graves.I saw that awful business at the cemetery on the news.Must’ve been terrible finding that poor man like that.”She smoothed her apron with careful hands.“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before, Sheriff.”
“I’m usually too busy to stop in,” Jack said, his tone professionally neutral.
“That’s a shame,” Jane said, her smile sharpening just slightly.“Your deputies certainly find time.They keep me in business.”
“As long as they can run down a criminal then what they eat is between them and their sugar dealer,” Jack said smoothly.
“Oh, they stay in shape,” she said, her smile knowing in a way that made me wonder how many of Jack’s men she was keeping physical fitness tabs on.“And after seeing the top cop for the county in the flesh I can see why the standard is so high.”
I cleared my throat and Jane’s unrepentant gaze turned my direction.
