Page 122 of Conrad

No more games.

Conrad was the happily ever after she wanted.

She picked up the house phone and dialed their security office. Geoffrey answered.

“I need a car.”

“I’m afraid your father has requested no more vehicles for you,” Geoffrey said. “He says we are to drive you.”

Of course.

“Fine. Then how about a ride?”

“Where to, ma’am?”

“Duck Lake. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

“I’ll have Franco pick you up in front.”

Good.Because she had some questions for him.

Ten minutes later, wearing leggings, an oversized sweater, a vest, and her hair pulled back, she climbed into the back of the warming Lexus, Franco at the wheel. He wore a wool jacket, gloves, and sunglasses, and was clean-shaven, her armed chauffeur. “Duck Lake?”

“The sheriff’s office, to be clear.”

“Ma’am—”

“We’ve been over this. Not ma’am.”

“Miss Pepper.”

“Just drive, Franco.”

His pursed mouth said everything.

She sat back and pulled up her phone. Scrolled through her social media, reading the comments. So much love, so much hate. She’d gained followers, lost followers, and really, did it matter?

Whatwasshe trying to prove?

They’d left the city, rounding the lake toward Waconia, the sun having cleared the horizon to the east, the golden swatch of dawn fading into the blue sky. She should have gotten another cup of coffee for the road.

“I didn’t realize you and Edward were friends.” She didn’t know why she started there. Franco glanced at her in the mirror.

“Yes, ma’—Miss Pepper. Of course. We grew up together.”

“Why didn’t I know this?”

“We didn’t live in the house. And my father forbade any contact with you and your sister.”

She frowned.And then, “You dated Sarah Livingston.”

A muscle pulled in his jaw. “Yes. For a while. She broke up with me to date Holden Walsh.”

“I’m sorry. You lost Edward and Sarah.”

He nodded, and his hands tightened a little on the wheel.

“Any idea who might have killed Sarah?”

---