Free Relatively Risky by Pauline Baird Jones Page B

exponentially with each loud, painful snap of boots to wood. It was a relief to finally reach the kitchen. These old houses sure had long hallways. Pity the poor servants of the past. “I know you’re hungry—”
    â€œNell.”
    The insistence in his tone turned her from the fridge and the edible something in there calling her name. It might have been something with mold, but at the moment, she didn’t care.
    â€œI’m sorry, but we need to talk. Could you take a seat?”
    She could. Didn’t want to. Her tush was still bitter from the triple slam. If she’d known he’d make her sit down without eating being involved, she’d have taken him to the living room and the soft chairs. She eased down, managed to hide most of the wince. Alex seemed distracted, though, studying her with a frown that had her shifting in unease, which also hurt, by the way. “What?”
    He pulled out a notebook and a pencil. The artist saw “cop” drop over him like a shroud. The librarian wondered why.
    â€œCan you think of any reason someone would want to kill you?”
    Neither artist nor librarian saw that question coming. Her jaw sagged. The cop who pissed off criminal type dudes day and night thought someone wanted her dead? For a second, she replayed her encounter with the creepy guys on the Moon Walk, but even her imagination failed to supply a reason for that to be life threatening. “Not to be rude, but isn’t it more likely to be you?”
    â€œThe targeting dot was on your chest.”
    He had been looking at her chest? She looked down. Targeting dot was most interesting thing to happen there...ever.
    â€œIt’s not like the shooter couldn’t see who to target.”
    Okay, it was a fair point that still didn’t make sense. She was a former librarian, current wait in a catering company, sometime sketch artist, and author of one children’s book. Not the résumé to attract a killer. Or a date. “Maybe I was just the first place the dot landed. It might have been getting ready to move to you. Or it was a mistake.”
    It was kind of a pity she wasn’t interesting enough to kill. Not that she wanted to be that kind of interesting, but the notion she might be that kind of interesting had Alex looking at her like she was interesting.
    Alex frowned. “Mistaken identity does make more sense.”
    He didn’t have to agree so fast. Could pretend she might be interesting enough to kill. Only he was a guy. He couldn’t.
    He shifted in the chair, as if settling in for a long haul. “But we need to be sure.”
    Making sure was a plan she could support, though she’d be more supportive if there was food involved. She tried to compress her stomach so it wouldn’t whine. Been bad enough when it whined while they were up the tree, but in the deep silence of the kitchen? What if it sounded like a different body sound?
    He half frowned. Nell could see ideas ticking through his oh-so-blue eyes. She could sort of figure out his thought processes. Thanks to TV and movies and, of course, books. A lot of mysteries had passed through her hands, most of them pausing long enough for her to read them.
    â€œNo,” she said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNo one to leave me a large fortune. A pity, but there it is.” Didn’t need to be a fortune, just enough to stabilize her situation would be nice, but not so much someone needed to kill her to take it. That was just ostentatious. She held up a hand, ticking off the mystery plot motives. “Don’t know any secrets. And I write kids books, not tell-alls.” Didn’t need that many fingers. Her life was not that interesting.
    This did not stop him from trying to find a crumb of lethal in her life. He found no rocks to turn over here or in Wyoming, where they had actual rocks. When he paused to regroup, she sighed yet again. That left someone gunning for him. She’d