Page 13 of In Her Wake
The question was laden with meaning.Jenna’s eyes flicked to Jake, who was pretending not to listen while navigating traffic.
“Not yet,” she said carefully.“But I’ll let you know if that changes.”
“I appreciate that.See you tomorrow.”
The call ended, and Jenna let out a slow breath.
“He knows, doesn’t he?”Jake asked quietly, eyes on the road.“About your dreams.”
“He suspects something,” Jenna admitted.“He’s never asked outright, but he’s made comments.After that trafficking case last year, he told me I had ‘a unique investigative approach that transcended conventional methods.’“
Jake snorted.“Diplomatic way of saying you know things you shouldn’t be able to know.”
“He thinks I have an informant network I don’t want to disclose.Some kind of underworld connection I’m protecting.”Jenna rubbed her temples.“Honestly, I guess anything would make more sense than the truth.”
“What happens if he ever does ask directly?”
“I have no idea.”She looked out the window, watching as they approached the Velvet Hanger.“That’s a bridge I’ll cross when I have to.”
The boutique stood out among the subdued businesses of downtown Trentville.The window display featured mannequins of the standard retail variety: white, featureless, nothing like the grotesque replica of Marjory Powell.They were dressed in what Rebecca apparently considered high fashion—a riot of patterns and colors that seemed more suited to a much larger city than their small town.
Jake parked in front of the store.“Ready to talk to Trentville’s high-fashion diva?”
“If she’s even here,” Jenna replied, stepping out of the cruiser.
The interior of the shop was smaller than the window display suggested, crowded with racks of clothing and accessories.A young woman with a pixie haircut looked up from behind the counter, her welcoming smile faltering slightly at the sight of their uniforms.
“Sheriff Graves,” she acknowledged.“Deputy Hawkins.How can I help you?”
“Betty, right?”Jenna asked, recognizing Rebecca’s sole employee.
“Betty Rosin, yes.”Her eyes darted between them.“Is there something wrong?”
“We need to speak with Rebecca,” Jake said.“Is she here?”
Betty’s expression shifted to apologetic.“I’m sorry, she left town about an hour ago.Said she had a meeting with her husband’s lawyer in St.Louis this evening.”
Jenna felt a prickle of suspicion.“Did she mention when she’ll be back?”
“Tomorrow morning, I think.She has a shipment coming in that she wants to process herself.”Betty nervously adjusted a stack of folded sweaters.“Can I help with whatever you need?”
“Do you know where Rebecca was earlier today?”Jenna asked, her tone casual but her gaze sharp.“Before she left for St.Louis?”
Betty shook her head.“I hadn’t seen her all day until she came in to grab some files before leaving.The store’s been dead quiet, so I’ve just been reorganizing the spring inventory for clearance.”
“So she didn’t come into the store at all before that?”
“No.”Betty’s forehead creased with concern.“Is something wrong?Is Rebecca in some kind of trouble?”
Jenna didn’t answer directly.“We need to get in touch with her.Can you give me her cell number?”
Betty hesitated, loyalty to her employer warring with the instinctive respect for authority.Authority won out.She scribbled a number on a boutique business card and handed it to Jenna.
“Fair warning, though—she’s terrible about answering her phone.”
Jenna tried the number immediately.After four rings, an automated voice announced that the voicemail box was full and couldn’t accept new messages.
“As expected,” Betty said with a resigned shrug.“She’s even worse about returning calls.I’ve been telling her for months to clear out her voicemail.”
