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“I’m sorry. Kids?”
“Someday, I hope. What about you?”
“Single. Came close a couple times, but things didn’t work out.”
“Well, good luck finding someone in Ryansville.” Jane rolled her eyes. “Unless you like spending weekends in a bass boat, a duck blind or an ice-fishing shack in the middle of a frozen lake. Me? I prefer movies and dinner to mosquitoes and frostbite.”
Sara planned to stay in town undercover for just a few months, and any romantic entanglements could jeopardize her work here. Still, an unbidden image of Nathan flashed through her thoughts.
Not that there was any chance of that.
He’d never bring her—the daughter of the infamous factory worker who had murdered his boss—to the home of his wealthy, snobbish family.
While even a single minute with them was almost unimaginable, she knew they’d enjoy the situation even less. They’d been more than vocal about her dad—they’d been cruel after his death, and had destroyed the rest of her family with their lies.
Moving away from this town had been the best thing she’d ever done.
“I’m not looking for a guy,” Sara said with a smile. “I just need a job. Any openings in accounting?”
Jane’s face fell. “I’m so sorry. We haven’t hired anyone in months.”
“Even for something like a bookkeeper? Secretary? I’m not choosy, really.”
Jane shook her head, then shot a glance at the door and lowered her voice. “We’ve been fortunate to not have layoffs. We lost a few accounts this past year, and business has been slow.”
“Sounds like bad news for the town.”
“Oh, not yet,” Jane quickly assured her, her hands fluttering like frightened birds. She clasped them together and dropped them to the blotter on her desk. “Like I said, no jobs have been lost or anything. I shouldn’t have said that. A friend over in the business office told me that we’ll even be getting our Christmas bonuses again this year.”
“I won’t repeat what you said, honest. Could I fill out an application, anyway? Or could you put my name on a waiting list?”
“Of course.” Jane stood and walked to an open doorway in the corner that led into a small storeroom, then returned with an application form, clipboard, and pen. “You can just sit right where you are to fill it out, and I’ll be sure to let you know if anything opens up.”
Five minutes later Sara had completed the form, using prearranged references with e-mail addresses that would be forwarded anonymously to DEA staff. She handed it back. “Any chance I could have a tour just to see what the place is like?”
“No, we don’t do that. The owner says it’s disruptive and unsanitary, having people walking through. And Robert Hanson—he’s the manager who really runs the place—says it could be a risk for company secrets.”
“Secrets? About hand lotions and cleaning solutions?”
“There’s a lot of competition out there, you know,” Jane said defensively. “It could happen.”
“Of course. I wasn’t thinking.” Jane’s caution and loyalty might be a problem, but she’d be a good initial contact. Sara rose to leave. “Thanks for letting me fill out the application.”
At the door she stopped and turned back. “It’s been a long time since I’ve lived here. Maybe we could meet for lunch sometime? Or I could pick up some take-out and bring it here?”
Jane brightened. She was probably a very lonely woman, Sara realized.
“I’d love it!” Jane pulled a business card from her top desk drawer, wrote something on the back, and held it out. “This has my direct line at work and the company’s hours, plus I’ve added my home address and number. Call me anytime!”
As she walked out to her car, Sara felt a twinge of guilt about using Jane for information. But with any luck, the entire investigation would turn up nothing at all, and Jane would never be the wiser.
Unless she proved to be far less innocent than she appeared.
* * * *
“YOU DON’T HAVE old documents and newspapers scanned and stored on your library website?” Hoping she’d heard wrong, Sara stared at the elderly librarian. “Or even an old microfiche?”
“I know what that is,” Miss Perkins sniffed. “We just don’t have one.” She lifted one gaunt arm and pointed toward a massive wooden door at the far end of the corridor. “The newspapers are through there, up one flight. First door on your left. Put everything back as you found it. Don’t forget to turn off the lights.”
