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Authors: Sarah Fox

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“More than relevant. It's what set her off down the slippery slope to her crazy crime spree.” I leaned against him, careful to spare my injured arm. “I'm glad you're here, JT.”

He put an arm around my shoulder, and I closed my eyes, listening to the comforting beat of his heart. When I reopened them, I spotted the brown-­eyed police officer heading in our direction with what looked like my phone in his hand.

“I have a feeling this is going to be a long, long day,” I said to JT, still leaning against him.

He gave my shoulder a squeeze. “No matter how long it is, I'm right here with you.”

I tilted my head back so he could see my grateful smile.

Even though I'd been the target of attempted murder more than once over the past week, I considered myself lucky. Lucky to be alive, and lucky to have a friend like JT.

 

Chapter 26

T
WO DAYS LATER
my life had regained some normalcy. I was back to teaching my students, and the following week the orchestra would return to our usual rehearsal space at the Abrams Center. I no longer had any reason to return to the church, and I planned to stay well away from it. Even if the McAllisters were no longer there, I didn't need to stir up any unpleasant memories. If I ever had the urge to attend a church ser­vice, I'd do so elsewhere.

I'd heard through Detective Salnikova that the reverend had suffered a minor concussion as a result of getting hit with the frying pan, but he was otherwise fine. Physically, at any rate. He was still in a whole lot of trouble, even though Susannah's video had only been shared with the police. The fact that he'd be going to jail for his involvement in his wife's crimes was enough to lose him his position with the church.

With Cindy McAllister locked away awaiting trial, I had moved back to my apartment. The burn on my hand had healed enough that it no longer bothered me, and I could play my violin without pain. The cut on my arm had mended, and the smoke-­induced scratchiness in my throat had all but disappeared.

Even though I was no longer camped out at JT's house, I stuck around after my last student of the day left the studio. It was Friday evening, and JT and I had plans.

After a delivery boy brought pizza to the front door, JT and I got comfortable on his couch with drinks and food. Finnegan settled on the floor between us, his brown eyes keeping a sharp lookout for any bits of food that might drop to his level.

“How was your day?” JT asked as he passed me a can of root beer.

I popped the top. “Blissfully without incident.”

“You mean you managed to stay out of trouble?”

I elbowed him in the ribs and nearly spilled my root beer. I took a long sip and swallowed the delicious, fizzy liquid. “I'll have you know that I was instrumental in solving several crimes. If not for me, the police would still be looking for the killer.”

“True. But you scared me half to death, you know that? I got worried when you didn't answer my texts or phone calls, and when I got to the church and saw all the commotion . . .”

“I know. The whole thing scared me too. But it's over now.”

“And Susannah?”

I selected a piece of pepperoni pizza and took an experimental bite. It was hot. “I talked to her last night. She's upset, of course. Did you know that Cindy lured her to the church with a text from my phone?”

“How did she manage that?”

“She must have used my phone when I left it in her office while I talked to her sister-­in-­law. Sneaky woman. I had no clue. She also sent Susannah a threatening e-­mail.” I paused to blow on my pizza. “I think Susannah's a strong kid though, despite her tendency to cry a lot.”

“What about Ray? He didn't have anything to do with the murder in the end?”

“Nope. But he did break into Jeremy's basement suite. Apparently he was hoping to recover some marijuana he'd sold to Jeremy the day before his death. So he could resell it to someone else, I guess.”

JT picked up a piece of pizza. “And you're doing all right now?” His eyes watched me carefully.

“I did have a nightmare last night,” I admitted. “But I'll be okay. I'm looking forward to getting back into my regular routine. Teaching, rehearsals, hanging out. No fires, no crazy murderers.” I tested my pizza again. It was cool enough to eat, so I took a bite.

“Speaking of rehearsals,” JT said, “how are things between you and Clausen?”

I chewed and swallowed. “I think it'll be okay. Maybe a little awkward at times, but okay.”

“You're not going to turn him in for lying about his previous job?”

I shook my head. I'd thought about that over the last ­couple of days. I didn't want to cause a kerfuffle in the orchestra, and even if I no longer held Hans in the highest esteem personally, he was a good conductor. And I wasn't vindictive. If someone found out down the line, maybe he'd be in trouble, but I didn't want to be the one to stir things up.

In fact, there was only one thing I wanted to do right at the moment.

“Let's get this marathon started.”

JT popped open his can of root beer. “Where do you want to start tonight?”

“Right at the beginning.”

He picked up the remote and cued
The X-­Files
pilot.

I settled deeper into the couch cushions and smiled with contentment.

Life was good.

 

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Nicole Bates, Sarah Blair, and Sarah Henning for being such amazing critique partners and such great friends. Sincere thanks also to my agent, Jessica Faust, for believing in
Dead Ringer
and for finding it a home, and to my editor at Harper­Collins, Rebecca Lucash, for her enthusiasm and guidance.

 

About the Author

SARAH FOX
was born and raised in Vancouver, British Columbia, where she developed a love for mysteries at a young age. When not writing novels or working as a legal writer, she is often reading her way through a stack of books or spending time outdoors with her English Springer Spaniel.

 

www.facebook.com/authorsarahfox

www.witnessimpulse.com

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Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEAD RINGER
. Copyright © 2015 by Sarah Fox. All rights reserved under International and Pan-­American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-­book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-­engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of Harper­Collins e-­books.

EPub Edition JUNE 2015 ISBN: 9780062413024

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062413031

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