“Can’t blame him, considering.”Jake navigated onto the highway, their route taking them toward Pinecrest.“The man was murdered and left tied to a radio tower.”
“There was something else, though,” Jenna said.“He mentioned ‘them.’Said I was ‘one of them.’Like he thought I belonged to some group he was afraid of.”
“Paranoid delusion?”
“Maybe.”
Jenna patted her jacket pocket, feeling the outline of the brooch she’d found at the crime scene.She pulled it out, turning it over in her palm.
“You said you were taking that to the pawnbroker yesterday, right?”Jake observed.“Any luck?”
Jenna shook her head.“No, Mr.Tyler didn’t recognize it.And my mother doesn’t remember it ever belonging to Piper.”She ran her thumb over the opal’s smooth surface.
“You should wear it,” Jake said.“Would look good on you.”
Jenna glanced at him, surprised by the suggestion.“Not exactly standard dress code.”
“Even so,” he said.“Might as well put it to good use, see if anyone recognizes it.”
She considered this, then unfastened the brooch’s clasp and pinned it to her uniform.“Not a bad idea, even though a little odd on a uniform.Though I doubt I’ll run into many antique jewelry experts in Pinecrest.”
Jake chuckled.“You never know.Chief Morgan might have a secret passion for Victorian accessories.”
They drove in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the morning sun climbing higher, burning away the last remnants of night.
“Four violent murders in the last month,” Jake said, breaking the quiet.“Hardly what I expected when I left Kansas City for the ‘quiet life’ in Trentville.”He glanced at her, his expression thoughtful.“What do you think has changed around here?”
Jenna considered his question as they passed the cheerful “Welcome to Pinecrest” sign.
“I’m not sure anything has changed,” she finally said.“Genesius County is still the same place I grew up in.Where Piper disappeared.Maybe the darkness was always there.Maybe we’re just finally seeing it.”
The Pinecrest Police Station was smaller than Trentville’s, a squat brick building that looked like it had been constructed in the 1970s and hadn’t seen much renovation since.Jenna followed Jake through the glass double doors.A young officer directed them to the chief’s office at the end of a narrow hallway lined with community service award plaques and faded photographs of officers past and present.
The door to the chief’s office stood ajar.Through the gap, Jenna could see Chief Rudy Morgan leaning against the edge of a metal desk, his frame clad in a uniform that seemed too snug across the shoulders.His hair was cropped close to the scalp, more gray than black, and his eyes were sharp, missing nothing.
Jenna rapped her knuckles against the doorframe.“Chief Morgan?”
Morgan looked up, his expression shifting from intense concentration to professional courtesy.“Sheriff Graves, Deputy Hawkins.Thanks for coming so quickly.”He gestured them inside.“You already know Colonel Spelling, I believe.”
Spelling, standing across the room from the chief, nodded curtly.“Sheriff.Deputy.”
“Colonel.”Jenna acknowledged him.
The office was crowded with the four of them inside.Photos were spread across Morgan’s desk—crime scene images from the radio tower where Marcus Derrick’s body had been discovered.
“Colonel Spelling was just bringing me up to speed,” Morgan said, gesturing to the photos.
“Did you know Marcus Derrick?”Jenna asked him.
The chief shook his head.“Only by reputation.Local oddball.Kept to himself.Heard he made some big money in tech years back, then went off the grid.Literally.”He gestured toward the door.“I can take you out to his place now, if you want to see for yourself.”
She replied, “Let’s go.”
With Jenna the passenger seat of Morgan’s SUV and Jake riding in back with Colonel Spelling, they bounced along county roads, then turned onto a narrower highway flanked by dense pine forest.After fifteen minutes, Morgan slowed and pointed to an almost invisible dirt track cutting between the trees.
“Here we go.Not exactly advertising his location, was he?”
The dirt road wound deeper into the woods, branches occasionally scraping against the vehicle’s sides.After nearly a mile, the trees opened into a small clearing where a single-wide mobile home sat on concrete blocks, its once-white exterior now a weathered gray.
