Page 110 of Trigger Happy

A twig crunches as she steps forward, which is what I want. The closer she gets, the better chance I have of disarming her. I want answers, so I’d rather not shoot her, but I need to time this carefully. If she’s linked with Walker, this could get ugly. Like, trying to do a cat-eye on a roller coaster ugly.

“So…” I begin, keeping one hand where she can see it, and the other ready to pull out my gun. “Do you want to tell me why you’re trying to kill me? Or is this just what you do for fun?”

“Because you murdered the man I loved.”

Oh. I was expecting more prying, teeth pulling. “I didn’t kill Arch, so you can put the gun down and let me go now, thanks.”

“Not Arch,” she says, flicking the barrel between us. “I was in love with Walker Montoya. Before you killed him, and don’t even try to deny it, I have proof from the camera we had hidden in his bedroom.”

Shock rattles through my bones. Well. That complicates things.

I try hard not to think about that night. I barely made it out alive, so I buried the memories so far down that I almost convinced myself it never happened, but it did happen, and I was so worried about my parents that it was the only time I didn’t check for cameras. Besides, who hides cameras at their boyfriend’s place?

“Why would you hide a camera in his bedroom?” I blurt.

“That’s private,” she barks.

Okay. Not my business, then. Maybe I don’t want to know. Actually, I definitely don’t want to know.

“We even had matching wedding tattoos picked out,” she continues. Oh no. “They said ‘Property of:’ with each other’s names.”

Thank god I saved her from that permanent catastrophe. I do my best not to make a face since there’s a gun pointed at me and all. “I love that. So cute.”

She scowls. Apparently, my disdain wasn’t as subtle as I thought. “It was supposed to be ironic.”

“Nothing better than an ironic tattoo everybody thinks is serious.”

No laugh.

Okay, then.

“So, Arch isn’t your husband, I take it?” I trail off, letting her fill in the gaps. My heart is racing, but I do my best to seem nonchalant. I need all the facts before I make my move.

Her boots crunch on the leaves. I should’ve known she wasn’t here for fun when she showed up in tactical boots instead of her usual greige Hokas. “An old friend. Now he’s my partner.”

“Partner?” I echo, tilting my head. “What kind? Is this, like, a work-wife situation?”

“We’re ‘freelance consultants.’ Like you and Lawton, except better at our jobs, since we don’t keep tabs on our targets by using Find My Friends. I hid an AirTag in your rental, so I saw you go to Bea’s shop.”

My jaw falls. So rude.

But if they’re freelance consultants too, that explains the body in the woods. “So, what? You killed her granddaughter? Why? Was she illegally taxidermying lambs or something?”

Breathe, I remind my hammering pulse. In for four, hold, out. You’re wearing a bulletproof vest.

Her brows crawl together, and she lowers her gun a smidge. That’s good. I’ll take smidges. “What do you mean? I didn’t kill her. Ella was my friend. She used to help me at the farmers market, since Bea had a booth next to mine. We weren’t soul sisters, but she always took at least ten pictures of me so I’d have a good one.”

It’s completely crazy for me to feel jealous, so nope. That’s not what I’m feeling.

“I always took at least ten pictures of you so you’d have a good one.”

“But Ella always did it on the point-five zoom.”

“You said the lens didn’t matter!”

“I was lying,” she snaps back. “About everything.”

Okay. Okay. The zoom doesn’t matter. I pinch my eyes shut until my tear ducts squeeze out some juice.