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Tawney McQueen never imagined she’d be the main suspect in a murder investigation. The feisty Media Specialist is determined to prove her innocence and catch the killer – even if the cop on the case has other ideas.
Roger Taylor’s first assignment as detective lands him in a quandary. The prime suspect is none other than the beauty he had a crush on as a geeky, middle-school kid. Not exactly the situation he’d thought of all those years ago when he hoped to gain the beauty’s attention. But before he can make a move, he has to save Tawney from herself and get to the truth.
30 Pages Sweet
"What the hell do you mean Tom's dead and I'm a murder suspect?" Tawney McQueen shouted at the plain-clothes officer standing across the campus library information desk.
Students' heads swiveled around, gaping at her, no doubt because she'd broken the unwritten rule of hushed voices in the library rather than for what she'd said. She leaned across the desk, staring at the man who looked like he'd never had a donut in his life. Weren't detectives supposed to have pot bellies and wrinkled suits? This one must've missed the memo. He looked too good for words--something which she'd never been short on. Until now.
Whispering this time, she said urgently, "I don't know how you could possibly believe I would have anything to do with killing anyone. Especially someone I cared about. What facts do you have?"
Detective Taylor, Roger Taylor, according to the name printed on the business card he'd set on the desk, stared at her without so much as flinching. His deep, dark brown eyes locked on her as if he were looking through her. His wavy brown hair curled slightly at his nape. He looked like he might be close to her age of thirty-one.
He inhaled deeply, the rise of his chest catching her eye. "You were the last person seen with Professor Jacobs. Did you or did you not go out with him three nights ago?"
"I did, but when he dropped me off at my apartment, he was very much alive."
Taylor arched an eyebrow. "Really?"
Tawney nodded. "Yes--but not in the way I see you're thinking. Tom Jacobs is--was--a good friend. Period. In fact, are you sure you've got the right guy? He led the life of a monk--or close to it. Who would want to kill him?"
She couldn't believe she stood there talking as if this were a game of clue. Professor Jacobs in the library with the rope.
Tawney dug her nails into her palm. Ouch. Nope, not a dream.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Tom was dead? She tried to wrap her mind around the news but it didn't quite set in. She couldn't believe her dear friend had died.
Tears clouded her eyes. Why? Why would anyone want to kill Tom? He'd been the epitome of a gentleman. Kind, polite, caring. The kind of guy every mother would love to see her daughter date.
"Look, Ms. McQueen, is there some place private we can talk?" Detective Taylor asked, his eyes roaming around the area then back to her.
"Sure, my office," she said, pushing away from the counter and sliding from behind the information desk. She ran the back of her hand over her eyes to wipe away the tears and led the way through the rows of bookshelves toward the hallway leading to the bathrooms, storage room, and at the very end, her office.
For the first time, the familiar path felt strange. In her mind's eye, the surroundings morphed into a different scene ... that of the condemned walking to meet their doom.
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