CHAPTER SIX #2
Selena opened her laptop fully. “What about you?”
“What can I do?”
“Type up any statements you took yesterday and this morning. Exact wording where possible. Times. Who was present. Anything you noticed that didn’t make the formal notes.”
Arnold’s face fell. “Ugh. More paperwork.”
“I bet you’re regretting me being here already.”
“Hardly.” Arnold dragged a chair toward the other desk and sat. “Connor’s been a right grump since you left.”
Selena’s fingers paused over the keyboard.
The comment slipped into the room and stayed there.
Arnold seemed to realize what he’d said a second too late. He looked down and started shuffling papers with needless urgency.
Selena did not chase it.
“What statements do you have?” she asked.
“Tom Reeder, who found Warren, and two members of the hunting group who showed up angry because we shut the place. I spoke with Sandra, but only for a couple of minutes when we first broke the news.”
“Start with Tom.”
“Got it.”
Arnold booted up the desktop computer, muttering about old keyboards and county budgets.
Selena took out her phone and called Washington.
Tanya answered on the third ring. “Washington D.C. Field Office. Tanya Bell speaking, keeper of forms, tracker of signatures, destroyer of lunch breaks.”
“It’s Selena.”
“I know, I saw on caller ID,” she laughed. “How is it down there?”
“Hot and humid.”
“Is that because of that hunky sheriff?” Tanya laughed.
“No,” Selena sighed. “Just the usual Kentucky summer.”
“Beats here. It’s been raining since you left.”
“I like the rain.”
“You would. It’s emotionally unavailable weather.”
Selena smiled despite herself. “I need background checks.”
“Sure thing,” she answered. “Names?”
"Sandra Holt and Warren Holt. Also Mary, their niece. Anything you can find on them, especially Warren's business dealings, if anything is in the public record. We'll need a warrant to check his financials. Ask Meg if she's able to get that for you."
“Got it.” Keyboard clicks came through the phone. “Any dates of birth?”
"I'll email you the dates once I have them in the deputy's report." She winked at Arnold. "Warren's fifty-one. Sandra late fifties. Mary is mid-twenties."
“It’s been boring around here. You think I might find something fun?” Tanya asked.
“I don’t know. I’m looking for anything useful. Criminal history, civil actions, bankruptcies, liens, name changes, old addresses, business connections, protective orders, restraining orders, weapons permits. Anything tied to real estate disputes.”
“That’s a lot of anything.”
“I’ll buy you dinner when I’m back. How about steak?” Selena laughed.
“Very funny,” Tanya said. “I’m still hurting about that.”
“Too soon?”
“I gotta go, Meg just waved me over to her office,” Tanya said. “I’ll run these names and message you when I’ve got something.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, Selena?”
“Yes?”
“Is the strapping sheriff still available?”
Selena looked across the room at Arnold, who was pretending not to listen and failing.
“That isn’t relevant to the investigation.”
“So yes.”
“Goodbye, Tanya. Get back to me if you find anything.”
Tanya laughed. “Will do.”
The call ended.
Arnold kept his eyes on the monitor. “Washington sounds fun.”
"It's a good office," Selena said. It was, wasn't it?
She had been there now for several years.
She had worked her way to the top of her game, investigating some of the most important federal murder cases from the country's capital city.
But was all that now going to go away because she'd put the higher-ups' noses out of joint?
The dread of starting over crawled up her spine like spider legs.
Arnold seemed to notice. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded and began typing.
Selena opened a browser and started with Sandra Holt.
The public-facing part of Sandra's life appeared quickly.
Real estate company page. Chamber of Commerce photos.
Charity fundraisers. Church luncheon announcements.
A smiling woman in pearl earrings standing beside Warren at a ribbon-cutting.
Their lives looked polished online, the same way the farmhouse looked polished in person.
Selena moved through the posts one by one.
For sale listings. Congratulations to local graduates. A shared recipe. A photograph of a sunset over farmland with a caption about gratitude. Beneath all of it, something shifted two weeks back.
The posts changed tone.
A quote about betrayal.
A shared article titled Seven Signs Your Husband Is Lying.
Then a post from Sandra herself, plain black text on a pale background.
Husbands are only good for two things: children and leaving in a ditch.
Thirty-seven comments. Mostly laughing emojis and women telling her she'd be fine.
Selena leaned closer to the screen.
The timestamp sat two weeks before Warren’s death.
Two days after Sandra said she had confronted him.
Arnold looked over from his desk. “Find something?”
Selena did not answer right away.
The words on the screen were ugly. Maybe grief for an ending marriage. Maybe anger vented into the void. Maybe the kind of thing people posted after a fight and regretted when morning came.
Or maybe a warning no one had known to read.
Selena copied the link, took a screenshot, and added it to her notes.
Sandra had hated Warren enough to write it down.
The question now was whether hate had carried her all the way to the lodge with a gun in her hand.