Page 18 of End Game

She cut the thought off. The events of the night were stirring up her imagination.

“Were what, Miss Krowne?” Morgan prompted.

“Nothing, I . . . ”

“Listen to your instincts, Kayla,” Ash said in a quiet voice.

“As if she were hiding. She wouldn’t allow me to turn on the gazebo’s lights.”

“Any ideas why?” Morgan asked.

She shook her head.

“You entered the gazebo, then what?”

“I went to greet her, but my shoe caught on the area rug, and I stumbled.”

The detective glanced down at her stilettos, where they lay haphazardly on the floor beside her. The pointed, rhinestone toe glittered in the study’s bright light.

“Go on.”

“When I straightened, I saw the—” She touched her own forehead, unable to say the words.

Instinct had her lifting her gaze to Ash, almost as if looking at him would give her the reassurance, the courage she needed to continue. Which was ridiculous. She barely knew the man.

Why hadn’t she looked to her parents instead, two people who had never let her down?

Then she’d recalled Ash’s gentle care with her after finding her huddled on the floor. His fierce protection.

“Are you of a similar height to the governor?”

“Nearly the same. Without heels, she’s an inch taller.”

Ash and Morgan shared a meaningful glance. The agent’s jaw turned stone hard.

Despite the warmth of her borrowed coat, anxiety tacked down her spine.

“What?” she asked.

“Did the governor say anything to you, prior to your stumble?” Morgan asked.

There’s something I need to tell you. Something you must keep to yourself.

Her fingers toyed with the coat’s button.

Promise me. Not even your mother.

A promise Vicky wouldn’t have exacted lightly. Her godmother knew how close she was to Jillian. Requesting she keep something from her mother was a big ask.

Kayla needed to figure out what Vicky wanted to tell her. It might not have had anything to do with her murder. Maybe it concerned one of the other aunties or even Jillian.

The last thing they needed right now was the police nosing around into their private affairs.

“Nothing outside of a greeting,” she said.

“Can you think of anyone who would want to kill you, Miss Krowne?”

“Me? I’m not the one you should be worrying about.”

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