The gun goes off with a sharp crack that echoes through the trees just as Noah, Ivy, Everett, and what appears to be half the sheriff’s department come crashing through the underbrush like the world’s most welcome rescue party.
“Everyone freeze and drop your weapons!” Noah shouts with a roar of his own, his gun drawn and pointed at our little woodland drama.
Everett frees me from Gina’s grip and brings us both to our feet.
Ivy materializes before us, looking like she’s been waiting her whole career for this moment. “Well, well, looks like Essex’s little wife really did solve another case.”
I give a little shrug up at Everett but don’t dare say a word.
“Lemon is a force to be reckoned with, all on her own,” Everett says as he lands a quick kiss to my lips.
Soon, Fairbanks and Gina are wearing matching silver bracelets, and I’m safe in Everett’s arms, where I belong. His heartbeat is racing against my ear, and I can feel his hands tightening over my back as he holds me.
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he whispers fiercely. “I aged ten years in the last five minutes.”
“They confessed to killing Duncan—twice,” I announce to Noah, still catching my breath and feeling like I’ve just run a marathon while carrying a refrigerator.
“Not bad, Lot Lot.” Carlotta surveys the scene with satisfaction while still clutching her stolen chocolate bunnies. “You wrestled a killer to the ground, and I got free candy. This is what I call a successful Easter.”
Lenny trots beside us, his ghostly mane still bristling with bloodthirsty satisfaction. “I could have killed them both with my bare paws! And it would have been so much more satisfying than watching them get arrested. The human justice system is far too slow and kind.”
“Noted,” I say, nodding up at Everett because I know he heard. I sort of act like a conduit when it comes to hearing those who have long since pounced over to the other side.
“We do our best.” Everett offers me a sly wink.
I’m about to mention the money laundering operation when I glance at Ivy and think better of it. Just because Fairbanks and Gina are going to prison doesn’t mean Luke Lazzari has to. Some secrets are better left buried, especially when they involve people who probably own silencers for recreational purposes. Besides, I’ve grown a soft spot for both Luke and Jimmy over the years. And let’s just say Luke Lazzari owes me one. I’m sure I’ll cash in soon enough.
I press my lips tight just as Everett’s mouth claims mine once again with the kind of kiss that’s so red-hot it’s probably illegal in most states. It’s thorough, deliberate, and makes my brain forget we’re surrounded by people, chocolate bunnies, and recently apprehendedmurderers. When he pulls back, the look on his face is pure sin. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”
“Never apologize for that,” I say with a devilish grin blooming across my face. “In fact, I’ll let you continue what you started later tonight. I believe we met a deadline we’ve been working hard to keep.”
“Can’t wait.” His lips curve with the hint of a devilish grin themselves, and his voice drops to that register that does dangerous things to my pulse. “Though I should warn you—I’ve been making a list.”
“Have you?” I give a little laugh. “Well then, I’ll make sure we check it twice.”
“Wrong holiday?” he teases.
I shake my head. “I don’t even know what day of the week it is when you kiss me like that.”
His eyes flash with wicked intent. “By the time we’re through tonight, you won’t know what year it is.” He kisses me once again.
It’s a much better use of my time and my mouth.
LOTTIE
Relief settles over the festival like sunshine after a storm, the kind that makes everything feel possible again.
The air carries sugar-coated victory and chocolate-covered chaos, with just enough Vermont spring warmth to suggest that maybe, just maybe, the worst is behind us. The lake sparkles under the afternoon sun while children’s laughter mingles with the distant sound of a brass band that’s somehow managed to improve their rendition of “Here Comes Peter Cottontail”—though that’s not saying much.
Pastel streamers flutter overhead like confetti, celebrating the fact that nobody else got murdered today, which is honestly becoming a rare achievement at Honey Hollow festivals. The air thrums with the kind of joyful chaos that only comes when you combine Easter candy, small children, and the lingering adrenaline of a recently solved homicide.
I’m walking back toward the festival proper with my arms full of one very squirmy baby Ozzy, who’s decided that post-murder investigations are the perfect time to practice his lung capacity. Everett has Corbin tucked against his chest, and Noah is carrying Lyla Nell, who’s chattering away about chocolate bunnies and “bad people” with thekind of matter-of-fact acceptance that suggests she’s getting way too comfortable with Honey Hollow’s crime rate.
“Mommy make bad people go bye-bye?” Lyla Nell asks, patting Noah’s cheek with sticky fingers that smell like cotton candy and possibly justice.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I tell her. “The bad people are going to have a very long time-out.”
“Like when I draw on the wall?” she asks with the kind of innocent logic that makes you wonder if toddlers might actually understand the criminal justice system better than most adults.
