Page 42 of In Her Wake
They drove the rest of the way in thoughtful silence, each turning over the puzzle in their minds.The Oakwood Apartments came into view—a modern, three-story complex that catered primarily to graduate students and young professionals.The building’s brick exterior and manicured grounds projected an air of modest respectability.
Jenna parked in a visitor space, and they made their way to unit 5B on the second floor.The hallway was quiet at this hour, most residents likely at work or in class.She knocked firmly on the door, her senses alert for any sounds of movement inside.
After a moment, the door opened to reveal a man in his early thirties with dark-rimmed glasses and a thoughtful expression.Marcus Langley looked exactly like his website photo—slender but strong, with dark hair styled in an artful tousle and a neatly trimmed beard.He wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans, both well-fitted but casual.
“Can I help you?”he asked, his gaze taking in their uniforms with mild curiosity rather than alarm.
“Marcus Langley?”Jenna asked, noting his calm demeanor as she produced her identification.“I’m Sheriff Graves from Genesius County, and this is Deputy Hawkins.”
“Sheriff Graves,” he repeated, recognition flickering across his features.“I’ve seen your name in the Tribune.What brings county law enforcement to my door?”
His response was natural, his body language open.Either he was innocent or an exceptional actor.
“May we come in?”Jenna asked.“We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course,” Langley stepped back, gesturing them inside.“Excuse the mess.I’m in the middle of editing a project.”
The apartment was part living space and part professional studio.One half functioned as a typical bachelor apartment—kitchen opening to a small living area with comfortable but minimal furniture.The other half had been transformed into a photography studio, with professional lighting equipment, a backdrop system, and a desk crowded with high-end computer monitors displaying photo editing software.
What caught Jenna’s attention, however, were the photographs.Dozens of them covered one wall—candid shots of townspeople going about their daily lives.A barista steaming milk at a local coffee shop.An elderly man feeding pigeons in the park.A woman with vibrant red hair laughing at an outdoor café.
Langley noticed her interest.“My ongoing project,” he explained.“Everyday Heroes of Pinecrest and Trentville.Capturing the moments people are most authentically themselves.”
The images were beautiful, intimate without feeling invasive.Each subject appeared to be caught in a moment of genuine emotion or purpose.
“You’re clearly talented,” Jake observed, examining a particularly striking shot of a firefighter silhouetted against the sunset.
“Thank you,” Langley replied, gesturing toward the small sofa.“Please, have a seat.What can I help you with?”
Jenna remained standing, studying his face as she spoke.“We’re investigating the disappearances of Kevin Torres and Marjory Powell.I believe you knew both of them.”
If she expected shock or distress, she was disappointed.Langley’s expression showed appropriate concern, but not surprise.
“Yes, I heard about Marjory on the radio this morning,” he said.“Terrible news.But Kevin too?I hadn’t heard about that.”
“You wrote feature articles about both of them recently,” Jenna stated, watching for his reaction.
“That’s right,” Langley nodded.“I photographed Marjory forKeys and Closingafter her big sale of the Thurman property.And Kevin forPowerCorejust last month—that issue came out last week.Is that relevant somehow?”
Instead of answering his question, Jenna shifted direction.“Where were you yesterday afternoon around 2:00 p.m., Mr.Langley?”
If the abrupt question caught him off guard, he didn’t show it.
“Am I a suspect?”he asked.
“Please just answer the question.”
“Of course.Anything to help.I was leading a photography workshop at the Pinecrest Community Center from 1:00 to 3:00 p.m.,” he replied without hesitation.“Basics of Portrait Photography for beginners.We had about fifteen participants.”
“And last night, around 10:00 p.m.?”Jake asked.
Langley smiled.“That one’s easy.I was embarrassing myself at karaoke night at The Tipsy Owl.Must have been there from about 9:00 until closing.You can ask anyone who was unfortunate enough to hear my rendition of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’.’“
Jenna and Jake exchanged glances.Both alibis would be simple to verify—the workshop would have a sign-in sheet and likely a group photo, and karaoke at a popular bar meant dozens of potential witnesses.
“We’ll need to confirm those alibis,” Jenna said.
“Of course,” Langley replied easily.“The community center will have my sign-in sheet, and I actually took a group photo at the end of the workshop that I posted to my professional Instagram account.As for karaoke night, well, The Tipsy Owl was packed.The bartender, Max, will remember me—I’ve been going there for years.”
