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than on the dock at the time of Cynthia’s death. His hands began to shake. He dropped the file.

“But . . . but I didn’t do anything,” Timothy objected.

Bubba made a strange motion with his hands and a pair of handcuffs appeared in them. But they weren’t standard-issue police variety cuffs. They looked like they were made of silver electricity, and they sparkled and snapped as Bubba grabbed Timothy’s left wrist.

“Of course, you’ll be able to present your defense to the judge,” Cheryl said, not unkindly. “If you have a lawyer, you can call them once we get you to a secure location. If you don’t, one will be appointed for you.”

Bubba pushed one end of the magical cuffs against Timothy’s skin, and the loop went right through his wrist, then clamped down. With a swift motion, Bubba grabbed Timothy’s right wrist and repeated the motion with the other end of the cuffs. Once they were on, the handcuffs disappeared from view. Timothy was able to hold his hands at his sides. Tessa realized the task force would be able to remove Timothy from the premises without any non-reapers who may be around realizing he was restrained.

Timothy turned toward April. His tone was desperate. “Tell them I didn’t do it! I’m a good employee. An honest one.”

April rubbed her temple and blew out a breath. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve seen in my career,” she snapped. “Timothy is nothing but an assistant. If you take him, how am I going to get everything done? I don’t even know how to run the data base.”

Cheryl crossed her arms. “We’ll assign you a temporary assistant until this is sorted out.

April opened her mouth to say something else but then shrugged and addressed Timothy. “There’s nothing I can do. The task force, on official business, outranks me. You’ll just have to go with them. My hands are tied.”

Timothy’s chin dropped to his chest. “But I’m not guilty.”

“Let’s go.” Bubba grabbed Timothy’s elbow and propelled him forward.

Lee turned toward the room at large and gave a relaxed smile. “As you can see, we have this under control. Please relax and enjoy the last day of the conference.”

The task force left with Timothy, who whimpered and cast looks of panic back at April. She ignored him, carefully gathering the papers form the podium as though that were the most important thing she’d do all day.

Once the task force and Timothy were gone, the room erupted in excited chatter.

Gloria said, “Well, that was fast. I guess that’s why the task force gets the big bucks. Can you believe Bubba’s on it?” She looked amused.

“No!” But Tessa was only partly listening to Gloria. Her mind was on what had just happened.

She’d nearly been convinced that Timothy was behind the recent reaper deaths and extra Miami allocations. But not completely. There had still been a whisper of doubt. When she’d talked to Timothy, he’d seemed genuine. Still, the order for Dani’s death hadn’t felt right to Tessa. And Timothy must have been behind that.

Yes, he must be the culprit.

Still, as she bussed her dishes and left the conference room, Tessa had a strange, worried feeling in the pit of her stomach.

What if they had the wrong guy?

Chapter 17

TESSA EXCUSED HERSELF from the table at lunch and returned to her room to rest a little and freshen up—which meant take a quick nap and hope it didn’t rearrange her hair into a hopeless rats’ nest before the evening’s activities.

But Cheryl was already there, using the mirror above one of the dressers to reapply lipstick. She glanced at her daughter. “Oh, good. I was afraid you wouldn’t bother to pack until after I’m trying to sleep tonight. Glad to see you’ll be getting it done now.”

Tessa knew that was a Cheryl code of instruction—a maneuver to get her way without demanding it.

Tessa sighed. She hadn’t any intention to pack yet. In fact, her plan pretty much had been to do it after the awards dinner that would mark the end of the conference that night. After all, they weren’t flying out until late the next morning. There was no sense in wasting time she could spend napping or lying by the pool this afternoon.

But she didn’t feel like arguing with her mother, so she opened her carry-on and started re-organizing what had become a rumpled mess of clothes. While doing so, Cheryl bobbed in and out of her periphery. “So, that was exciting this morning—the task force arresting Timothy. How did you decide he was behind the unallocated deaths?”

Cheryl popped the top on her lipstick tube and turned away from the mirror. “Oh, you know. Investigative skills—blah, blah. Nothing too exciting, dear.”

Tessa pursed her lips for a second and then blew out a breath. “Okay. As long as you didn’t arrest him based on what I said last night . . .”

“Hmm?” Cheryl was rummaging in her suitcase, and she cast a glance over her shoulder at Tessa. “Of course not. We did our own thorough examination of the records and interviewed people here at the conference.”

“Did you interview April?” Tessa wondered. Ever since Timothy had been taken away in magical handcuffs, Tessa hadn’t been able to concentrate on the conference. Her thoughts had been wrapped up in the murder investigation. Well, the same could be said about the whole conference—since Art’s death.

It still seemed like a mystery. And she couldn’t shrug off the idea that they’d gotten the wrong man. In fact, her suspicions had shifted toward April. The woman wasn’t very nice. In some ways, she reminded Tessa of Cheryl.

And April had an ongoing competition with Lee Stuart. Maybe she’d been the one to mess with the allocations. Or perhaps she’d strong-armed Timothy into doing it. That actually made more sense, since Timothy was the brains of the operation—or at least of the accounting. April had said it herself, she couldn’t even log into the system. And with the way April treated

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