Page 17 of In Her Wake
Baldry and Delgado continued toward the house as Jenna and Jake walked to their separate vehicles.
“What do you think?”Jake asked, pausing beside his cruiser.“Rebecca Ashcroft is still our best lead?”
“She’s a person of interest, for sure,” Jenna replied.“But something about this feels...different.More calculated than I’d expect from her.And she’d have to hire someone with the specific skills to make a thing like that.But I guess most people would.”
“We’ll know more once Colonel Spelling’s team does their thing,” Jake said.“Forensics might give us something to work with.”
“Let’s hope so.”Jenna glanced back at the house, imagining the mannequin sitting there in the darkening kitchen, keeping its secrets.“This one has me unsettled, Jake.The planning involved, the intimate knowledge of Marjory’s appearance, the timing of it all.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Jake assured her, though his voice held a note of uncertainty.“We always do.”
They stood there a moment longer in the purple dusk, moths already beginning to circle the streetlights.The distant wail of a train whistle carried across town, mingling with the chirp of early crickets.Neither seemed quite ready to end the day, to separate and face the quiet of their own thoughts in empty houses.
“Get some rest,” Jake finally said, keys jingling.“Tomorrow’s going to be a long one.”
“You too.”Jenna hesitated, her eyes dropping briefly to where his shirt concealed the bandages.“Give that wound some time to finish healing.”
Jake’s hand drifted unconsciously to his abdomen, pressing lightly against what must be tender flesh beneath his shirt, then he grinned, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening.“Only hurts when I laugh.”
“Then I won’t say anything funny,” she promised, a small smile softening her words.
They parted ways, Jake to his cruiser and Jenna to hers.
As she slid behind the wheel, her phone buzzed with a call from headquarters.
“Graves,” she answered, hoping for some break in the case.
“Hey, Sheriff, it’s Officer Crowe.”His voice crackled through the line.“Just wanted to let you know, we’ve impounded Marjory’s car, and it is being examined, just as you ordered.Nothing unusual so far.”
“Any sign of a struggle where it was found?”
“No, ma’am.But we’re still going over it.”
“Alright.Keep me posted.”
“Will do, Sheriff.”
She hung up, worried about this report.Marjory’s car abandoned with no signs of trouble, a mannequin in her likeness left at home—none of it added up.
A wave of exhaustion settled over Jenna.She should go straight home, she knew that.The day had been nothing but dead ends and disturbing questions.Her search for Piper had yielded nothing, and now this Powell case with its mannequin mockery.She started the engine but sat idling, glancing at the clock.Just past seven-thirty.Late enough to justify going home, early enough for another errand.
She started the engine and pulled away from the curb, mentally calculating the time.Just past seven-thirty.She had time for one more routine task, the one that never failed to leave her on edge.
As she drove through the quiet streets of Trentville, her mind wandered between the day's events—the mannequin with its unsettling smile, Liza's description of how it might have been made, Rebecca Ashcroft's convenient absence, and some kind of falling out between Liza and Marjory that her friend had been reluctant to discuss.Puzzle pieces that refused to fit together.
The traffic light ahead turned yellow, then red.Jenna braked.Beyond the case, beyond the professional concerns, her thoughts turned to her upcoming errand.
Nothing to worry about, Jenna told herself.
At least she hoped so.
CHAPTER SIX
A few minutes later, Jenna turned onto Sycamore Lane, the street where she’d grown up.In spite of the name, it was ancient oaks that lined the road, their gnarled branches reaching toward one another, creating a canopy that dappled the evening light.Her mother still lived alone in the house that had once held their whole family—Jenna, both parents, and Piper.
Old habits died hard; whenever she drove down this familiar street, she still half-expected to find her mother slumped in an armchair, glass in hand, lost in the fog of alcohol and grief as she had so many times in the past.When her cruiser pulled into the driveway, Jenna sat for a moment, studying the front yard.The garden beds bloomed with late summer flowers, purple coneflowers nodding in the light breeze.The lawn had been mowed recently, the edges neatly trimmed.
She wondered when she would stop being surprised at all that …
