Who could Tiffany Ann tell when the person responsible for breaking the law was the town's highest elected official? And with her supposed track record of tall tales, would anyone have believed her?

"Tori, are you okay?" Milo asked in her ear.

Could she tell the police? And if she did-would they believe her over the mayor, a woman who came from a long line of Sweet Briar residents and former mayors?

"Tori? You still there?"

Milo's voice redirected her internal questions. "If you knew Georgina had done something wrong . . . something illegal, who would you go to for help?"

The silence that greeted her question was comforting as she knew it meant he was giving his answer cautious thought-something that was desperately needed.

Finally he answered, his words carefully shared. "I would go to the next person in line . . . the one just below the mayor on the flowchart of authority figures. And I'd"-he stopped and cleared his throat-"hope against hope that person wasn't involved as well."

She couldn't even consider that possibility at the moment. It was outside her realm of comprehension. She needed to take it one step at a time.

"Who would that person be?"

"I don't know. I'd have to look at the town's setup, probably something with the town's bylaws and ordinances."

"Something with the town's bylaws and ordinances," she repeated, her mind commanding his words to memory.

"I imagine you'd have something like that in the library. Something citizens could easily acc-"

"That's it!" she screamed. "That's it!"

"Wait. What? What's it?"

She jumped up and ran around the information desk, her body maneuvering around bookshelves like a skier on a memorized slalom run. A skier who slid her way to a stop in front of the local interest shelf and the lone book she sought.

Sweet Briar City Structure and Laws.

Pulling the book from the shelf she held it in her free hand, her eyes skimming back and forth across the cover. "The book."

"What book?" he asked in her ear.

"The book Dixie threw at me in my office because it had a coffee stain in it." She heard the words as they left her mouth, knew she'd finally put two and two together.

"O-kay. You lost me."

"The stain . . . in the book. Tiffany Ann made it."

"Come again?"

"Remember how she came here? On the day she died? And remember how Nina said Tiffany Ann had made the stain on the book that got Dixie so upset?"

"Okay, yeah . . ."

"Well, I'm staring at the book she was reading with the coffee that eventually poisoned her to death."

A long, low whistle filled her ear as she carried the book to the information desk and flipped it open, her left hand instantly seeking out the stained pages that had ignited Dixie's fury.

Page Four Sweet Briar Chain of Command: Mayor Police Chief Council Member-section one Council Member-section two "Milo, this is it! Tiffany Ann did exactly what you said you'd do." She read the names on the list again and again, her thoughts trying to make sense of the printed words. "The chain of command is right here on the stained page."

"Who's next in line after Georgina?"

"The police chief," she answered.

"Okay. And he's been out of town for a few weeks on his annual fishing trip, which is why Investigator McGuire stepped in to cover the Tiffany Ann situation."

The Tiffany Ann situation.

"Well isn't that the same thing as what you're saying Georgina can't do with Ridge Cove?" She braced herself for his answer, afraid that maybe they were barking up the wrong tree.

"Not at all. McGuire is essentially on loan from Tom's Creek. A professional courtesy the two towns extend to one another when their respective chief is on vacation or too sick to work." He paused for a moment. "Okay, so after Chief Dallas, who's next?"

She read the next position aloud.

"Well that wouldn't work in this situation, as Lucas Blakely, the council member from section one, is Georgina's brother. Likewise for section two. Only in that case it's her cousin, Cooper Riley Senior."

"Georgina is Cooper Riley's cousin?" Suddenly the lack of attention given to any other potential suspects in Tiffany's death made all the sense in the world.

"In a roundabout sort of way. In fact, if I remember correctly, Georgina has kinfolk in authority positions in a few of the surrounding towns as well. I believe the mayor of Tom's Creek is somehow related to her . . . a brother-in-law or an uncle, maybe." Milo took a sip of something. "You kind of get used to that around here."

"Isn't that considered nepotism?" she asked, her hand gripping the phone more tightly as Tiffany's reality flowed through her veins like ice water.

Milo laughed, a hollow sound that portrayed the noise for what it was-disgust. "In Chicago, yes. In New York, yes. In most cities and towns across the country, yes. But things are different here, Tori. They just are."

She tried his words on for size, allowed their meaning and various implications to roll around in her thoughts. "Then what do we do?" she finally asked.

"We sleep on it. Consider this from every angle we can possibly imagine."

"And then what?" she asked as she dropped her head into her hand and tried, futilely, to rub away the pain that pulsed behind her right eye.

"There's no school tomorrow, so I'm free. Any chance you can get Nina to cover you in the morning?"

"Uh-yeah, I guess. But why?"

"Let's meet at Debbie's Bakery at nine so we can try and figure out what we're going to do with what we know."

"What we know so far," she corrected, her temples beginning to pound along with her heart.

"So far? You think there's more?"

"I do. And her name was Tiffany Ann."

Chapter 21.

The second she walked in the door she could feel a lift in her spirits, a momentary reprieve from a sleepless night spent scrutinizing everything she knew and imagining what she didn't. Troubled thoughts that were still lodged firmly in her mind yet could stand to be set aside long enough to order a cup of hot chocolate and a donut.

Tori cast a precursory glance around Debbie's Bakery for Milo, only to come up short. Which was okay. She needed a sugar boost before planning a course of action that would rattle the town of Sweet Briar to its very core.

"It's good to see you again." Emma Adams popped up from behind the register, a genuine smile lighting her face. "Back for some more black and white cookies?"

"Hmmmm. I wasn't planning on it . . . but okay, yeah, I'll take one-no, make it two of those in a bag and . . ." She studied the glass case filled with mostly breakfast selections-pound cakes, donuts, flavored breads, and bagels. "Do those chocolate-covered donuts have custard in them by any chance?"

Emma peeked through from her side of the case, her head nodding as she pulled the tray outward. "They sure do."

Yum.

"Okay, I'll take one of those and a cup of hot chocolate, too. Only those are for here."

"Gotcha." Emma pulled a plate from the countertop behind the glass case and placed a chocolate-covered donut on top. Setting that on the counter beside the register, she moved with ease toward the drink station. "Whipped cream on that hot chocolate?"

"Yes, please."

"That'll be five dollars," Emma said over her shoulder as she stirred Tori's drink with a red plastic stick. "I just made a fresh batch of whipped cream not more than twenty minutes ago so it should be extra good."

Double yum.

"I'm sure it will be." Tori swung her purse onto the small overhang beside the register and fished out five crisp dollar bills. As she waited for Emma to finish her order and take the money, she skimmed the various photographs that graced the brown pegboard behind the register. Cooper Riley's photograph-dead center just a week earlier-had been replaced by a new one of Jackson Calhoun.

Hmmmm. Trouble in paradise . . .

She felt her lips tug upward at the sight of Milo's reflection in the small rectangular mirror above Jackson's picture, the man's rumpled hair and tired eyes every bit as endearing as they were pitiful. Spinning around, she let the smile play out across her mouth.

"Rough night, huh?"

He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "You, too?"

"I'm counting on my donut to give me a boost. Otherwise I may fall asleep at the table."

Milo laughed. "Good tip. Otherwise I may have assumed you found me infinitely boring."

"You? Never." But even as she joked, she knew it could never be the case. Milo Wentworth was fun, kind, compassionate, and the kind of man she'd enjoy getting to know on a deeper level.

"I'm glad." He swept his gaze across her face and down her body. "How come you look so good for someone who didn't sleep?"

She felt her face grow warm at his compliment, her hands instinctively smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her white blouse and tan slacks. "Probably because your eyes are more than a little bleary."

"They're not that blear-"

"Okay, here's your drink." Emma reappeared behind the register. With expert hands the girl swapped Tori's drink for the money owed and gestured to the cookie bag and donut plate on the overhang. "If you need anything let me know."

"Thanks, Emma." To Milo, she said, "I'll meet you at our table."

"Our table?" A twinkle appeared in his eyes. "That's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Uh-I-I'll meet you there." As she walked away she mentally chided herself for sounding so foolish. Sure, she was finding it harder and harder to deny the attraction she felt to Lulu's teacher. How else could she explain the butterflies in her stomach when he appeared unexpectedly, or the warmth she felt all over when he first walked in a room? No, that wasn't the issue. Figuring out just how far she did or didn't want it to go was the part that needed to be examined.

But not now.

They had more pressing matters to discuss.

Like how you go about seeking justice for a crime when the perpetrator is related to everyone in an authoritative position? And if everyone in the sewing circle was so reluctant to believe Dixie was up to no good . . . then how on earth could she ever expect them to accept Georgina as an extortionist?

Not to mention a murderer.

She plunked her cup, bag, and plate onto the table and sank into a chair, the promise of chocolate and sugar no longer holding any appeal. The dots she'd connected during the wee hours of the morning had created a pretty clear picture.

Georgina Hayes had not only broken the law by selling a service she had no right to sell, but she also had a pretty clear motive for yet another crime, one far more sinister and unforgivable than anyone could imagine.

Yet Tori'd imagined it. Again and again throughout the night, her mind unable to find the plot holes her heart was desperate to find. And when she'd looked up potassium cyanide and its potential uses, any hope she was wrong all but disappeared.

The only remaining sticking point was Georgina herself. Women who showed up on your doorstep bearing brownies and an invitation to make friends didn't kill people. They just didn't.

Or, at least, they weren't supposed to . . .

"So, how are you really doing?" Milo asked as he set his cup and plate on the table and claimed the empty chair.

She looked down at her donut and simply pushed the plate away. "Not too good."

"I figured that." Gently he scooted her plate back, his brows knitted with worry. "But you have to eat. You're going to need your strength."

"Why? I'm going to lose every last friend I have when the truth comes out." Wrapping her hand around her cup, she waited for the warmth to counteract the growing chill in her body, but it didn't happen. "Georgina is like a sister to these women."

He shrugged. "But sometimes you've got to step back and let a family member take their lumps."

"Lumps? Isn't that trivializing things just a little bit?" Tori stared at the donut, her stomach not the slightest bit interested. "I mean she's done something illegal. That brings jail time."

Lifting a fist to his mouth, Milo exhaled, his cheeks deflating rapidly before he dropped his hand back to the table and met her gaze head-on. "A lot of jail time if she's guilty of worse."

Guilty of worse?

She squirmed beneath his gaze, the sudden pounding of her heart drowning out all noises around them. Did he see it? Did he think it was possible, too?

Gripping her mug between her hands, she swallowed-hard. "Does that mean . . . does that mean you think she may have"-she swallowed again-"she may have killed Tiffany Ann to keep her quiet?"

He reached out, rested his hand on her forearm. "I'd be lying if I didn't admit that's a question I feel awful entertaining. Georgina Hayes is a great mayor and an even better person."

Closing her eyes, she nodded, her voice barely audible to her own ears, let alone anyone else's. "I know. I met Rose and Debbie and Margaret Louise because of her. And if it wasn't for those three and"-she opened her eyes and looked at him-"you, I'd not only be the lonely outsider, but I'd be the lonely murder suspect, too."