She sipped her Coke. Spring seemed a long, long way off.
Jake tapped his phone and frowned.
They both shivered in their winter coats. The Portland State University Park blocks with bare tree branches creating a lacework above the statuary were romantic, even in winter, but not warm. He tucked his phone in his pocket and took her hand.
“So Jane, we’ve been officially a thing for twelve days now.”
“Yikes. How did I forget that anniversary?” Jane laughed.
Jake stole a sip of her drink. “I want you to dump me. Don’t interrupt.”
“Yeah, I wanted to hear where you were going with that one.”
“I want you to dump me the minute you don’t think you would want me for your husband. I am all in on this thing, you understand that, right?”
“You’ve mentioned it.” Jane took her cup back. Her parents were still mad that she hadn’t come home for Christmas. She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain the sudden switch from probably-going-to-marry-Isaac to…She smiled. It was too soon to even think that.
“I’m not fooling around. I’m pretty sure you understand the pressure I’m under with the business right now. With the mayor of Maywood breathing down my neck and the Fro-Yo Murder thing sending all my customers scurrying to Bubble-Bubble Tea, I can’t have a flakey girlfriend thing, too. I don’t mean you have to say that you’re going to marry me this minute or anything. But if God starts talking, and he says ‘No,’ don’t try and force it. Just dump me.”
She chewed the end of her straw. Each season she seemed to be learning something else hateful about herself. She was too proud, she hadn’t actually heard God’s call to Kazakhstan, and now…she was forced to face the fact that she was really, really immature when it came to relationships. But now that she knew it, like the missions thing, she had to take it seriously. She couldn’t go when God told her to wait, and she couldn’t up and commit to Jake the same minute God had pointed out that she wasn’t any more mature about boys than she had been at thirteen.
“Well?” Jake waited, his face slowly draining of all color.
“I promise. If God says to dump your sorry self, I’ll do it.”
“Or,” Jake said, “even if it’s not God. But if you realize you don’t want me…”
Jane laced her fingers through his. “It’s been twelve whole days, and that’s not been a problem yet.”
“So I think until that day—which will never come—we need to take this seriously.”
“Sure.” Jane squeezed his hand, but didn’t make eye contact. She would agree to anything if she made eye contact, and that didn’t feel wise.
“We should start making plans—”
Jane’s phone jangled, so she answered it, relief washing over her. “Gemma?”
“Turn your radio on.”
“What station?”
“Any! This is big news.”
“I’m at school, I don’t have a radio.”
“Then hang up and find it on your phone. You won’t be sorry.” Gemma hung up.
Jane pulled up the local radio news.
“Just a second.” Jake put his hand over her phone. “This is kind of a big deal.”
Jane moved his hand. “Jake, I promise I will dump you the minute I realize I can’t marry you. Please don’t make that minute right now. I want to hear what the big deal on the radio is.”
“There has been an arrest in the Fro-Yo Murder. Two men were arrested separately today. The detective in charge says that they were led to the two unrelated men by anonymous tips. Del Willis and Jason Miter are being held until their hearing. We’ll give you the details as we learn them.”
“Hey, good job, Detective.” Jake held his hand up for a high five.
Jane stared at her phone. “Anonymous sources?” She looked at his hand, hanging in the air. “Oh, sorry.”
He ran it through his hair. “Eh, no biggie.”
“We were not anonymous sources. We were legitimate private investigators. Something tells me Detective Benedict is not going to be my inside contact with the police.”
“Something tells me I’m going to have a long wait.” Jake flopped back against the bench.
Jane smiled at him. “But it will be worth it, most likely.” She picked up his hand and kissed his fingertips. “Unless I dump you, of course.”
Also by Traci Tyne Hilton
Health Wealth and Murder: A Plain Jane Mystery
Popular prosperity preacher Josiah Malachi teaches that God will make us healthy and wealthy, so why did he just drop dead with a knife in his back?
Jane Adler, housecleaning college student with dreams of foreign missions, is tired of solving crimes by accident, so she’s enrolled in criminology classes at Portland State University. Getting the gig as house cleaner for the Malachi family is the perfect opportunity to put theory to the test.
Things aren’t easy at home, either. Her small group leader is pestering her to marry her boyfriend Jake, but Jake has been growing distant. And if she doesn’t get her amateur detective agency into city licensing compliance, the Malachi case may be her last one.
Josiah Malachi’s teaching might not have been Jane’s cup of tea, but her future hangs on solving his murder.
Hard to Find: A Tillgiven Mystery
Isaac Daniels' Sequel to Bright, New Murder: A Plain Jane Mystery!
Isaac Daniels screwed up his romance with Jane Adler, and then a few more. Starting over at a Bible School in Sweden probably wasn't the best idea. Especially when he manages to lose the pretty girl with the big green eyes, her crazy sister, and his boss’s diabetic nephew.
If he can find the missing students, he can probably keep his job, but the real risk in this hunt is losing his heart.
About the Author
When not writing, I knit socks, and accompany my mandolin playing husband on the spoons.
I’m also the author of the Tillgiven Romantic Mysteries, the Plain Jane Mysteries, and the Mitzy Neuhaus Mysteries. I was the Mystery/Suspense Category winner for the 2012 Christian Writers of the West Phoenix Rattler Contest, and have a Drammy from the Portland Civic Theatre Guild. I served as the Vice President of the Portland chapter of the American Christian Fiction Writers Association.
I have a degree in history from Portland State University and still live in the rainiest part of the Pacific Northwest with my goofy family, two small dogs and new kitty.
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Dark and Stormy: A Tillgiven Romantic Mystery
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons either living or dead is completely coincidental
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