Love at First Sight Read Free Page A

like a wild woman, her shoulder-length brown hair standing out in every which direction! Glancing around in the car, she found an old navy blue scrunchie and battled her hair into semicompliance while she drove. No easy task. Now all she had to do was get control over her life again.
    Ahead she could see the Hotel Carlton etched against the clear dark blue of Montana’s big sky. As warm as it was in the car, she felt a chill.
     
    J ACK A DAMS SAW HER the moment she walked in. Not that she stood out particularly—even the way she was dressed. The lobby was such a zoo because of the murder, he doubted anyone else noticed her. He wasn’t sure what had made him look down when he did from the mezzanine where he’d been hiding out. Or what it was about her that held his initial attention.
    Her hair looked pulled up into a ponytail of sorts. Stray strands of golden brown curled around her face making her eyes seem large and wide. Brown eyes, he guessed, although he couldn’t tell from this distance. Some freckles probably. Late twenties, early thirties. Jogs or works out at the gym three times a week, he figured. Teaches school or day care. Born and raised in Montana. Probably here to meet her mother and grandmother for the hotel’s Sunday breakfast brunch. Your typical Girl Next Door. Case closed.
    He wished Denny wasn’t busy interviewing witnesses. Detective Dennis Kirkpatrick had started the game one night at a bar, betting his talent for observation was keener than Jack’s. It had become a duel to thedeath ever since. But this time, Jack thought he could beat Denny at his own game. This one was almost too easy.
     
    B Y THE TIME she walked into the hotel, Karen rued her impetuous behavior. This wasn’t like her. Not at all. What really brought it home was just how foolishly she was dressed. No coat. No socks. No bra. Now, chilled, she felt nearly naked and knew everyone in the place was probably staring at her chest. She crossed her arms. What was she doing here?
    “Excuse me,” she said as a bellhop cruised by. “Can you tell me who was murdered?” she blurted out, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible and go home.
    The kid stopped, leaned over and said conspiratorially, “I heard her name was Jones. Liz Jones.”
    Karen felt the blood drain from her face. Her heart jackhammered and the room seemed to spin crazily.
    “One of the maids found her this morning,” the bellhop continued in a hushed whisper. “Strangled with her own panty hose, I heard. The cops are still here asking questions down in the ballroom but so far I don’t think they’ve found the killer.”
    Hadn’t she known it would be Liz? Oh, yeah? And how exactly had she known that? First superstitious and now psychic? She didn’t like this.
    Get a grip. You suspected it was Liz or you wouldn’t be here. So, tell someone what little you know and let’s get out of here.
    She glanced down the hallway toward the door marked Ballroom. All her fears rushed to her head liketoo much champagne. What did she really have to tell the police? That Liz had been involved with a man in some secret relationship. And the name of the man? She didn’t know. What did he look like? Well, she only saw him for an instant. Did she think she would recognize him again if she saw him? Maybe.
    He’d looked surprised when he saw her, probably because her dress had appeared to be covered in blood. It was actually red wine that her blind date had spilled on her. No, he wasn’t blind, just nervous.
    Karen took a breath. All right, she didn’t have much to give the police. For all she knew he could have been Liz’s ex, the one she said she’d left because of his jealousy. But if any information Karen had could help find the killer—
     
    B ELATEDLY , Jack noticed two things about the young woman that made him glad he hadn’t made that bet after all.
    One was the look on her face as she stopped a bellhop near the entrance. She wasn’t asking directions to