A Tabor Heights, Ohio Novel
Twenty years ago, Toni's sister, Angel, was killed by her secret boyfriend. Now, the White Rose Killer is stalking and killing young women, searching for his true love. Toni is sure this is the same boy who killed Angel, grown to be a dangerous man. Curt, assistant editor at the Tabor Picayune, has the same theory. They team up in a race against time to dig through the past to identify Angel's killer, before he chooses, terrorizes, and kills another victim.
To protect Toni from being chosen as the White Rose's next 'true love,' Curt and Toni pretend to be involved. Reluctant partnership turns to friendship and then to something more, but will it last beyond the unmasking of the killer?
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"Donovan said he'd get somebody started checking places that supply greenhouses, and places that would provide building materials. But wouldn't they report something like that being stolen?" She brought the pot over to the table, shoved aside a stack of papers, and put it on a trivet in the center of the table.
Curt inhaled deeply of the fragrant steam rising out of the pot and groaned. "That is not jar sauce. Please tell me you made it."
"Gotta have something to do when you're frustrated and you can't get to the gym." Toni blushed and grinned and stepped over to the refrigerator to pull out a big bowl of salad. "With a name like Napolitano, I better be able to make a decent pot of sauce."
"You are the perfect woman. Marry me."
Curt held his breath and went stone still, afraid to look at Toni. She, on the other hand, started dishing up the spaghetti as if she hadn't heard what he said. If she did hear, she didn't react. He slowly, cautiously released his breath, and congratulated himself that Toni knew him so well, she knew he was joking.
That was good, wasn't it?
"What if Donovan doesn't find any report of that greenhouse panel being stolen?" Toni continued, as she dished up her own spaghetti.
"How much surplus do you think anyone has sitting around?" he countered, and concentrated on twirling strands around his fork. He flinched when Toni reached over and slapped his hand.
"Bless the mess before you eat, okay?" She grinned at him when he looked up at her, startled and half-guilty.
Curt nearly took hold of her hands before he bowed his head to pray, just like he had seen dating couples do at Singles outings for church. That urge scared him, so he ended up clasping his hands together tightly in his lap. What was wrong with him lately?
For a few minutes after he said 'amen,' neither one said anything, busy with scooping up salad and putting dressing on it. He groaned at the first spicy, rich taste of the dark red spaghetti sauce. In college, he had lived on spaghetti and other inexpensive food, but instead of getting sick of it, Curt had turned himself into a connoisseur. Toni's creation ranked up there with the best he had ever tasted. She laughed when he told her so.
"Flattery will get you a quart to take home, if you really like it that much."
"Forget about taking it home. I'll drink it instead of coffee."
"Low blood sugar. Definitely. You're getting loopy." She picked through her salad bowl for a moment. "Okay, the greenhouse panel. What if it was never reported stolen because the White Rose owns a greenhouse?"
"That'd make sense. They've been trying to use the roses as a lead, but no luck." Curt chewed for a minute or two while he thought it over. "He grows roses for himself, to give his victims."
"I didn't see anything about greenhouses or even belonging to a garden club, when I looked through the list. Did you?" Toni sighed and shrugged when Curt thought a moment and shook his head. "Got the feeling we'll spend the whole evening looking through the disks Baxter gave us?"
"Just keep the spaghetti coming."
Toni laughed, and that suited Curt just fine.
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