Page 4 of The Jade Stone Sleuth

When Malik fell, she hadn’t seen it as he’d been ahead of her on the trail and around a bend. She’d heard a whisper of sound that could’ve been someone speaking to Malik, but it had been raining and windy so she wasn’t certain. Malik had cried out as if in surprise and then she’d seen his body hurtling toward the ground over a thousand feet below. She’d heard him yelling, legs and arms wind-milling, and then she’d seen his body slam into the rocks. The awful finality after that tragic impact hadonly been broken by the rainfall, the wind, her own alternating screams of ‘Malik’ and ‘help’, and other hikers concerned exclamations.

She’d raced back down the trail to get to him, almost slipping and falling herself multiple times. Now she wondered if she should’ve gone the other direction and seen who was around the corner or if she’d been making it all up in her head. The police had never said she was crazy, but they also hadn’t found anyone suspicious on the always-busy trail or with ‘just cause’ anywhere near the scenes of any of her boyfriends’ deaths.

The FBI had gotten involved in Malik’s case. His parents had demanded it. It hadn’t been ideal dating Malik and knowing his wealthy mom and dad didn’t like her. Growing up in a close-knit community with many friends, cousins, and siblings and her dad the well-loved pastor, she hadn’t experienced dislike or prejudice often. She certainly hadn’t wanted to alienate an only son from his loving parents.

It was even worse knowing that his parents thought she somehow contributed to Malik’s death.

What if she had? What if each of her boyfriends had died because of something she’d done? The only commonality was her, and the jade stones.

Clara was horrified by the deaths but had no idea how to prove they were accidents or prove they weren’t. The only thing in her power was her trust in her Savior to pull her out of the funk she’d dipped into after Malik’s death and her determination that she’d never date someone seriously again. It wasn’t fair to any man to risk dating her, and she couldn’t possibly handle watching someone she cared about die again.

It didn’t matter if she hadn’t been in love with any of the men. It still ripped her heart out to have them die, and the guilt of thinking it was her fault dug at her every minute.

She shoved the pain and memories away, said a prayer for positivity and the Savior’s light to lift her, and focused on the hike.

“Come on, ladies,” she called to her legs. “Let’s step it up and pretend we’re fit, shall we?”

She smiled at her silliness. Her next younger sister Melody would be laughing with her and probably videoing for her social media channels. Her oldest brother, Vance, who owned and ran Jade Valley Health Spa Retreat, would be instructing her on how to mentally push herself farther and correcting her hiking form. Their youngest brother Lincoln would be composing and singing hilarious songs to make her laugh. Lincoln was the goofy, happy light of the family. She should’ve brought one of them, or her friends Weston and Jane, with her. Hiking alone was no fun.

“That’s it,” she called out. “One, two, three, four … who’s got the cutest legs on the floor? Five, six, seven eight, bend and straight, bend and?—”

Clara darted around a rock formation and slammed into something hard and soft at the same time.

She froze, eyes widening, and stared up at the most handsome face she’d ever seen. The man’s eyes were a deep brown that seemed to pierce right through to her soul. What could he see? She’d been pep-talking herself because of her recent dark thoughts. What if he could read the despair and the attempted positivity?

His lips turned up in a smirk that made the skin at the edges of his eyes and mouth crinkle. His eyes had wisdom and depth to them and his tanned skin did as well. This was no twenty-year old hoping for a ‘cougar’ like most of the available men left in her small valley. This was a full-grown man who had seen the good and bad in life and could possibly be a gift from heaven above. If she was interested in dating. Which she wasn’t. How quickly she could forget her self-made vow.

“Forgive me,” he said in a deep and appealing bass. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

His gaze dropped to her hands and then back up to meet her gaze. It was then she realized that she had both palms planted on his chest, her fingers splayed and cupping the muscles of his chest through the material of his obviously expensive shirt.

His very well-built chest. She’d never touched muscles that lovely and well-formed.

“Oh!” She pulled her hands away and stepped back. “No, this collision is all on me. I assumed wrongly that any human or animal could hear me singing and would be forewarned and running scared the other direction by my off-tune alto.”

His lips turned up even more, a full grin now. He had perfect white teeth, like a model. Clara leaned against the nearby rock formation. That grin was powerful. Butterflies danced in her abdomen and her legs weakened from the force of it.

“I may have heard some impressive rhymes and a lyrical soprano. I changed course to investigate, but I didn’t realize you were that close.”

They both smiled, her with a little embarrassment, him with obvious enjoyment. He liked teasing her.

“The rock formations distort sound,” she explained. “Nobody in their sane mind would call my voice lyrical.”

“Ah.” He chuckled. “Forgive my insanity.”

She also laughed, liking the twinkle in his deep-brown eyes. She looked him over. His dark hair was perfectly cut and styled, and she could swear his eyebrows were plucked. He wore a fancy watch and hiking clothes and shoes she’d only seen on some of her brother Vance’s high-dollar fitness clients.

He took her in as well. She shifted, wondering if he could tell her clothes were handmade. She was a great seamstress, and bought high-quality fabric on discounts but definitely no exclusive name brand tags on her clothing like his.

His gaze dropped, sweeping over her legs. It was smoky hot and alluring, but when he glanced back up the teasing glint was back. “I think you do have the ‘cutest legs on the floor’.”

Her face flared red. “Positivity helps when those legs are tired.”

“Is it all right to admit I admire the positivity and the ‘cute legs’?”

Her mouth went dry. This man was attractive, fit, and able to effortlessly flirt with her, but he appeared too be perfect to be real. The entire interaction felt like a dream and the gorgeous man seemed like someone who should be on the big screen, not in remote Jade Valley.

“No,” she sassed back. “I don’t share my positivity or cute legs with strangers.” Her neck and cheeks got even hotter. That sentence had come out really odd.

---