By murdering all those responsible for Rosehall's downfall? Was his sister as crazy as he'd been? “And when was this?"
"A few weeks before you arrived.” She paused again. “It was about that time I began to notice a darkness in him. A frustration. I know it sounds clichéd, but it was as if the Jontee I knew and cared for was gradually being swallowed by that darkness."
"Maybe some part of him hated what he was doing."
She glanced at him, amusement glittering briefly in her eyes. “That's the first almost-nice thing I've heard you say about him."
He grimaced. “No one is ever a complete monster.” And if Jontee had been, Vannah wouldn't have gone near him. He was sure of that, if nothing else. “Did he say anything else about his sister?"
She shook her head. “He wouldn't be drawn out. He was like a kid with a naughty secret. He just kept saying she knew what was going on and that she would make it right in the end."
Cade raised an eyebrow. “Meaning she was at Rosehall?"
"No. But I had a feeling Jontee was in constant contact with her."
"How, when there were no phones?"
She gave him a wry look. “This from the man who uses telepathy daily in his job."
He grinned. “As someone recently informed me, my telepathy skills aren't what they should be."
"At least you make up for it in other areas."
She leaned into him, wrapping him in heat and her erotic, sensual aroma. His reaction was instant and intense, his erection pressing painfully against the fly of his jeans. The pain was made fiercer by the knowledge that he couldn't do anything here. Or even in the near future. So he contented himself with wrapping an arm around her shoulder and drawing her even closer.
And it felt so good, so right, that he almost wished they could just stay here, right in this office, keeping the world at bay as they concentrated on them. Just them.
Just for a little while.
"Did Jontee have many visitors while he was locked up?” she continued, after what seemed like a long, contented sigh. “Maybe his sister was one of them."
"Besides his lawyers, he only had two other visitors, and neither were women."
"What about phone calls?"
"Only from his defense team.” He frowned, remembering the trial, trying to recall the faces. But the only one he'd been concentrating on was Jontee, and to a lesser extent, his lawyer. Everything else—everyone else—was a blur. But there had been plenty of people in the courtroom during the trail. If Jontee had a sister, then it wasn't beyond reason that she'd been one of them.
But if that were the case, why wait ten years to set this scheme up? It didn't make any sense.
"Do you have your investigation notes here?” she asked.
"On the computer in my room."
"Then why don't we get our butts over there and check them out?"
"Because I know what's in those notes. I've been studying them since the first murder."
"All this time you were convinced that Nelle was behind these murders. Maybe that certainty caused you to miss other clues. Maybe the reason you recognize Jina's name is the fact that you actually saw it in those notes somewhere."
He opened his mouth to refute her statement, but closed it. Maybe he had missed something. He'd been certain for so long that Nelle was involved that it was entirely possible he had overlooked some key point. And while Trista and Anton had studied those files as much as he had, they hadn't been involved in the original investigation and would never know it as intimately as he did.
"Good point,” he said, and tightened his grip on her shoulders to stop her from moving. “But first, I have to do something."
He turned her around to face him. Her expression was one of amused anticipation. “One of the rules we agreed to,” she said mildly, “was no kissing during the day. And certainly not in my office."
"I had my fingers crossed behind my back when I agreed to that,” he said, voice bland. “But I don't actually intend to kiss you."
"And why the hell not?” she asked, her voice filled with a fierceness that was belied by the twinkle in her eyes.