Broadrick grabbed my hand, and we started for Trish's front door. "Babe, I never stopped."

Well then. I'd have to worry about processing that later.

The pea green Kia sat parked in the driveway of the simple one-story ranch home. Places on this side of town didn't normally have garages unless you sacrificed the yard. Trish had kept the yard.

A text stopped me a few steps from the front porch.

SHILOH: How is Spencer doing? Frankie says he'd like to see proof of life. Lol.

I rolled my eyes at the text but didn't stop to answer it. The only person who might end up dead after watching the cat was me.

Broadrick dropped my hand as we reached the front door, and I gave it my best cop knock. The kind where you ball up your fist and hammer away at the door like you're trying to break it down through force alone. I needed Trish as off kilter as possible because she wouldn't give up her secrets easily.

"Vonnie? What are you doing here?" Trish asked as she slowly opened the door, only letting her nose and one eye peek through.

I smiled my most friendly smile. "Just stopping in for a visit."

Damn, I definitely should have brought a box of cookies with me. At least a cupcake. Something to help get me in the door. I leaned against it, pretending like nothing was wrong, and Trish eventually stepped back to let us in.

Broadrick was stiff as we walked into Trish's home. He looked like he might pull out a gun at any moment, but I remembered the mice situation at the diner. Trish would not be taking any wild shots at us.

"Come on in, I guess," Trish said and pointed to the long cream-colored sofa on the same side as the door. "Would you like something to drink?"

I sat to be polite, but Broadrick stood at the end of the couch looking intimidating. He was throwing off the entire mood I wanted to set. "No, thanks. We don't have time."

It wasn't a lie. I promised myself I'd solve the case in a week and it was already Thursday.

"What can I help you with then, sugar?" Trish asked sounding all Southern and friendly.

I stared at her with my eyes squinted for a better view. She had on a black shirt and black pants. The standard uniform for the diner. She must have a shift later.

Right then, all the evidence I'd built up in my head against Trish faded. Could she really do what I was about to accuse her of? Better to rip off the Band-Aid and see how she responded to it, I guess. First reactions told a lot about a person.

"Let me skip right to the point, Trish. Are you sleeping with the chief of police?"

Trish reared back like I slapped her. Her body physically took a step back and her mouth opened in shock. "What? The chief?" she asked with a laugh.

A suspicious laugh.

"That's what I asked?"

She tugged on the bottom of her shirt. Definitely hiding something. "Of course not."

"Then who? You were at the bed-and-breakfast the night of the shooting even though you live here. You told Katy you're writing a book, but the facts don't add up. You have the peace and quiet you need here."

There was no reason for her to pay the outrageous prices Katy charged for a room, especially on a single waitress' salary.

A big white cat jumped on the couch and pawed at me. Watching Spencer had given me a fear of cats, but I gave the animal's tail a quick pat so it didn't bite.

Trish gaped at me in horror. She swallowed thicky, and I swear sweat beaded at her hairline. Definitely hiding something.

"If not the chief, then who, Trish?" I asked again.

She didn't answer.

"Who?"

Her face paled, and she wobbled on her feet. "Jerry! Okay, fine. It's Jerry."

"Jerry?" I whispered, more to myself than to her. That was not a name I expected. At all. Never in a million years. "Jerry, the part owner of the diner?"

"Yes," she said, looking embarrassed.

"From the diner?" I asked again. We needed to be sure of this development.

Trish nodded. "You can't tell anyone, Vonnie. Seriously. None of the bakery girls can find out."

"Trish, he's like seventy-five years old," I said, unsure if it was a statement or question. I'd have to look Jerry up on my favorite background website to check his age.

She wiped her hands on her pants. "Age is just a number. I thought you, of all people, understood that," she said, slanting her gaze at Broadrick and me pointedly.

It was my time to look uncomfortable. Sure, we had an age difference. A couple of years. Nothing like Trish and Jerry. Plus, I'd attended a sex toy party with Trish for Tabitha's bachelorette party. She took home three bags of toys. How did Jerry keep up?

The cat jumped on my lap, leaving white hairs on my jeans. "If it's Jerry, why don't you just come here? Why sneak around the bed-and-breakfast?"

They were pretty public at the town's only hotel. Why take the extra risk? At least drive to Clearwater.

Trish cleared her throat and licked her bottom lip. "Think of the rumors, Vonnie. What would people say if they saw his car in my driveway?"

"Hmm." She had a point. People in this town liked to gossip. I knew because I was one of them.

"This thing between us is..." her sentence trailed off as her smile grew. "It's new. I don't want to jinx it yet. This way we can park at the diner and meet at the bed-and-breakfast with no one realizing."

It sounded like a pretty story, but she left out one major fact. "What about the cameras?"

Trish waved her hand and answered the fastest she had for the entire interrogation. "I check in with my book story and he knows about the back hallway. We're covered."

Damn, did everyone sneak around in this town?

Her cat bit my fingers, and I jerked my hand away. The wild beast jumped on my shoulder. What was with cats and trying to kill me?

Trish laughed and picked up the white ball of terror. "Marshmallow doesn't normally like people. You must be special."

"Yeah, something like that." More like they smelled my annoyance.

A quick laugh escaped Broadrick, but by the time I yanked my gaze to him, he was silently biting his lips.

"Just please promise me you won't tell. Please." Trish literally held her hands out in front of her as she begged.

"I won't tell. Scout's honor." Some things were too disturbing to unleash on the city. No one else needed the mental images.

Trish saw us out, and I contemplated her answers on the ride back to my rental.

"Did you get the answers you wanted?" Broadrick asked as I handed him the bike helmet in my driveway.

Did I?

"No. Something is off about her story."

He snickered. "Yeah, she lives in Pelican Bay."

No, it was more than that. I wanted an answer to solve the case. She didn't give me that, but only more questions.

Nothing moved inside my house when I opened the door, and I took that as a good thing. NB lifted his head as I stomped the snow off my boots in the entryway but then returned to sleep. He was apparently still cranky over the early morning wake-up.

The noise of crinkling paper came from the kitchen. Did I have a mouse? A giant rat?

"What's that noise?" Broadrick asked.

I followed him toward the sound. "You have to be kidding me?"

Spencer was circling in the space on top of my trash can, crunching down the sandwich wrappers and containers from the diner. He plopped down, making himself comfortable, and then meowed at us as we stared at him.

I grabbed for the cat and he hissed, reaching out a paw to rip my skin off. "Fine, you know what? You live there now."

"You're just going to let him stay in the trashcan?" Broadrick asked but never made a move to grab the cat.

"Yup." I snapped a photo of him with my phone and then sent it to Shiloh for her proof of life request.

She answered almost immediately.

SHILOH: Awww. He's so adorable. We'll see you soon.

Unless they showed up in the next five seconds, it was not soon enough.