Page 69 of Slow Burn
“I, uh, hate to break the mood,” Cole said, drawing her attention back. “But I took that note of yours up to my folks’ place.”
She took a slow breath, letting her arms wrap around her middle and watched his hand as it reached to rub the back of his neck.
His face twisted in a grimace. “Didn’t find a match. But didn’t rule it out, either.”
The words dropped like stones into her stomach, disappointment and dread mingling.
“But,” he went on, squinting toward the fire, “Pop mentioned a scrapbook swap.”
That had her puzzled. “What’s that?”
“The group of ladies my ma gets together with to trade their scraps and designs and books. Or somethin’.”
That sparked a little hope. And more disappointment. Because she still wouldn’t know who was leaving her these little gifts—though it took the weight of all the suspicion off of Ellen. “Who’s in this group?”
Another grimace. “The usual suspects. Notably Kiki Womack and Lydia Abbott.”
Her intake of breath was sharp, and her hands squeezed her elbows. “Could be either of them.”
“Could be,” he agreed.
Lydia Abbott had come up more than once lately. Knowing she’d spoken to Frank Leone that night, worked him up, made it clear she sure knew how to stir the pot. Writing passive-aggressive notes seemed like her style. So did that article left on her car.
With the opening there, she figured she’d better take it. “I got another one.”
Cole’s gaze snapped to her face.
“It wasn’t a note this time. Newspaper clipping. I haven’t matched the article yet, but it was one about how it was ruled an accident. Circled nice and bold so I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. He looked ready to throttle someone.
She put a hand on his arm. “It’s alright, Cole. Nothing we can do right now.”
“But someone sure doesn’t like what you’re up to.”
“We knew that already,” she said grimly.
“Don’t have to like it,” he growled.
That almost made her smile. And made her want to kiss him.
The thought was barely formed when Natasha’s voice rang out. “Jocelyn, you came!”
“Hey, Natasha,” she managed, heart twisting as her sister’s arms wrapped around her before she could react.
Cole stepped back while Natasha divided a bright smile between them. He managed to mask his frustration with a half-smile.
“Are you having fun?” Natasha asked, turning to look around. An extra measure of nerves filled her voice, as if Jocelyn’s answer would be a judgment on her and not the town.
Jocelyn went with the safest answer she could muster. “How could I not?”
Cole’s hand landed low at her back again, a silent support.
“It’s a lot,” Natasha said knowingly. “But this has always been my favorite night before Harvest Fest.”
“Why’s that?” Jocelyn asked, forcing her voice steady.
“It’s cozy. Less about sellin’ to tourists.” Natasha grinned.
