Page 59 of Hidden Hero

“Kissing a smiling Cora,” he murmured as he pulled back, “is the best send-off I could ask for.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t pull away. “Stay safe, Jeremy.”

With one last glance, he followed Pete out, the warmth of her smile lingering with him.

* * *

Jeremy tossed the pen onto his desk with a frustrated wrist flick. It hit the edge and rolled to the floor with a faint clatter. He groaned, bending to retrieve it, his shoulders tense with the weight of too many dead ends. When he placed it back next to the legal pad covered in scribbled names—all crossed out—his jaw tightened.

“Your list looks like mine,” Pete said from across the desks, his voice a low rumble that matched his weary expression.

Jeremy huffed a humorless laugh, running a hand through his short, dark hair. “We’ve run through every name. Six different churches, ESAAA, Cybil’s list from the bingo groups—nothing. Nothing connects them all.”

Pete leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Somebody knew all our victims. There’s no way they’re random. How many names do you have left?”

Jeremy glanced at his pad, dragging a finger down the meager list. “Four.”

“I have three more,” Pete replied, his tone heavy. “Let’s knock these out before lunch. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Cybil walked into the DTF pen and headed straight to Jeremy and Pete. “I might have something.”

Jeremy’s head jerked around, noting Pete was already looking toward her. She walked to them and placed a folder on his desk.

“I’ve gone through the lists of people who drive others to bingo, and one of the names that popped up was Mary Harborrow. Then one of the people I talked to said they’d seen Jed Harborrow drive. When I looked at his driver’s license, I noted he looks very similar to the man in the security camera for Hank Snodgrass.” She shrugged. “Might not be the same, but it was the only link I could come up with.”

“Deputy, we’ll take any lead right now,” Pete said, turning to his computer.

Jeremy looked up and grinned. “Damn, Deputy, you may have found the hidden key.”

He picked up his phone and dialed Mary’s number, his stomach tightening as the line rang. On the third ring, a soft, slightly quavering voice answered.

“Good morning. Is this Mary Harborrow?”

“Yes, it is.”

Jeremy straightened, instinctively polite. “Ma’am, I’m Detective Jeremy Pickett with the Eastern Shore Drug Task Force?—”

“Oh, my goodness!” Mary interrupted, her tone sharpening with suspicion. “This isn’t one of those scams asking for money, is it?”

Jeremy smiled despite himself. “No, ma’am, not at all. I’m not asking for money. I’m just hoping you might have some information that could help us. We’re looking for people who drive the elderly to appointments, bingo nights, church events—things like that.”

“Oh well, I used to,” she said, her voice softening with nostalgia. “When I retired, I hated feeling useless, so I offered rides to anyone who needed them. It was my way of giving back.”

“Did you ever drive Helen McCarthy, Robert Stewart, Henry Miller, or Fred Rudolph?” Jeremy asked, leaning forward.

Mary let out a lilting laugh. “Yes, all four of them! Let me think… I got Helen’s name from someone at her church, and Fred too, now that I think about it. Fred didn’t need rides often—he loved driving his truck, bless his heart—but he’d call me for longer trips. Robert and Henry, though, they were bingo folks.”

Her voice grew somber. “But they’ve all passed now.”

“Yes, ma’am, we know. Was there anything about them that seemed off? Anything unusual—like if they were struggling with their medication?”

With the phone on speaker, Jeremy glanced across the desk. Pete’s eyes locked on his, a silent exchange of hope tempered by caution. They might have a thread to follow for the first time in weeks.

Mary sighed. “I wouldn’t know about their medications. Last year, I had eye surgery and had to stop driving. But my son took over for me.”

His head snapped up, lifting his brows at Pete. “Your son?”

“Yes, Jed. He’s a good man. Works at the grocery store. When I couldn’t drive anymore, he stepped in to help.”

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