He shrugged. “You have a point.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Maybe I’ll make sure these get into Sheriff Blount’s hands, just so she has a good look at them.”
I nodded. “Sounds like a decent plan. But anyway, you said you’d run the story.”
He shuffled the pictures back into the folder. “And I will.”
“Thank you,” I said, rising.
Birda had framed Ruth for murder. Framed her, I was sure of it, though I hadn’t had a chance to prove it. Birda was a fraud and deserved to be seen as such. I still felt that she’d had a part in Cora’s murder, but I didn’t know what—at least not yet.
As soon as we discovered whoever was lurking around my house, I planned on discovering Birda’s secret—one way or another.
Even though therewas a lot going on in my life, I couldn’t stop thinking about Roan. I did my best to stay focused, keeping my attention on a new case Ruth wanted us to investigate, but it was no use. I wanted to see him.
Maybe it was the whole “forbidden love” thing. I didn’t know. Wait. I did know. Forbidden love had nothing to do with it. I loved Roan, and I wanted him in my life. There had to be a way around all this mess. There just had to be.
I’m trying to talk your dad into letting me see you,he texted that afternoon.You and I may have to do things like Romeo and Juliet, minus the dying.
I laughed. He wasn’t kidding. We would have to do things that way if we wanted to stay together. I groaned. None of this was easy.
“Is it love that’s bothering you, sugar?”
I glanced up. I was back at home, staring at a microwaved chicken potpie. Really. Couldn’t I have done better for my supper?
Francine draped herself across my couch. She wore an evening dress with a split up the thigh. There was way too much naked skin showing and touching my things.
Ugh. I was glad she was dead. If she’d been living, I would’ve had to disinfect the couch.
“What makes you say that?” I said.
Francine dragged a finger down the arm of the couch. “Oh, I don’t know. You have a forlorn look on your face. You’re sighing a lot, and I haven’t seen any sign of your man in a while.”
“It’s only been a couple of days.”
“Long enough for me to know there’s trouble in paradise.”
I shook my head. “You can’t help here. Our gifts are too different. His is dark. Mine is light. We can’t be together without stupidly bad things happening.”
Francine studied me. “You sure about that?”
I poked at the pie. “It’s what I’ve been told.”
She frowned. “Being told is one thing and knowing is another.”
“Do you know a way around it?”
Francine nodded toward my hair. “How’d you get that color?”
“Ghost gift.”
“Ah, as I thought. And does it grow?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“And it grows purple?”
“Violet. Yes. It does.”
She stared at her fingernails. “So that means something had to change inside you, right? Something had to shift and transform for your body to be able to create purple hair.”
