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Chapters (86)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
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  4. Dedication
  5. 1
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  54. 50
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  75. 71
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  78. 74
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  80. 76
  81. 77
  82. 78
  83. 79
  84. 80
  85. 81
  86. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Angelica shot him a glare—clearly, they weren’t here on his account—then turned graciously back to Elle. “If I can help in any way, please let me know.”

“Thank you. I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do.” Elle changed the subject. “Where do the Shivering Sherlocks stay? Is there a separate wing for guests?”

Angelica expounded on the guest suites, the medieval-style dining room and the charming, mystery-solving Shivering Sherlocks themselves. She assured Elle that as the festival neared, more guests would arrive, and all rooms here and throughout Gothic would be filled.

Adam’s watch vibrated. He looked at it in surprise.

“What is it?” Elle asked.

“I’m getting a phone call from the Live Oak.”

“You?” Angelica was visibly surprised that he ever received a call.

“Yes. Excuse me.” He answered on his watch and headed toward the door.

It was Señor Alfonso, and he shouted loudly enough for Elle and Angelica to overhear. “Adam Ramsdell, come at once. Clarice pushed the paparazzo off the roof.”

“Clarice? Clarice did that?” Adam could hardly believe it.

“Yes, and he is dead!”

54

ADAM AND ELLE ARRIVED at the Live Oak Restaurant to find a crowd gathered on the sidewalk. As they got out of the ATV, the townspeople grew silent, except for Mr. Kulshan, who said loudly, “I tell you, that girl didn’t kill anyone!”

Adam met his gaze and nodded.

“Yeah, you’ll handle this right.” Mr. Kulshan folded his arms over his chest and sat in the chair Ludwig had provided for him.

From behind the building, a vehicle alarm was going off, an indecent, irritating blare that Elle thought a fitting salute to Bruno the paparazzo. She followed Adam as he strode toward the noise, but before they rounded the back corner of the building, he turned to her. “You won’t want to view this.”

“No, but... Clarice might need someone to hold her.”

“Then, try not to see, because you can never unsee, and with the trauma and the violence you’ve suffered, it might slow your recovery.”

She nodded and muttered, “Try not to see,” and they walked behind the building.

A black Ram pickup’s horn was blasting, and its lights were blinking. For a moment, Elle observed no sign of Bruno, only the cab’s crumpled roof and the shattered windshield. Then she realized the object on top with the splattered appearance was Bruno, dressed in black and blending into the finish. He’d landed on his back, an impact that had instantly broken his body.

Elle turned her head away. You can never unsee. She knew it was true, but she knew, too, her mind remained strong. Nothing about the scene was similar to the attack on her. This was a tragedy brought on by a single man’s greed and obsession. Clarice was the victim here, and it was she who needed Elle’s compassion.