CHAPTER TEN
“We’ve got nothing,” he said. “Absolutely nothing solid.”
“Every lead circles back to the same dead end,” Jenna muttered. “Many people had reasons to dislike Derek, but there’s nothing that indicates murder.”
They had spent the afternoon directing officers in a canvas of the area around the crime scene, reviewing security footage from nearby businesses, tracking down receipts from every store in the county that sold red yarn.
They’d combed through phone records, run background checks, and conducted another round of interviews with Derek’s neighbors.
By evening, the case remained stubbornly murky.
“Any update from the officers watching our persons of interest?” Jenna asked, shuffling through the stack of preliminary reports.
“Nothing suspicious. Roger Dixon spent the day at his shop, had five customers, ordered parts for a chainsaw repair, and took a twenty-minute lunch break in his office. Brenda Drummond went grocery shopping, had coffee with the librarian, and updated TownCircle with information we didn’t want her to share. ”
“And Ellington?”
“Last I heard, he hadn’t left his house at all. Officer Fairmont’s been there since noon, and there’s been no movement.”
Just then, Jenna’s phone rang. The display showed Fairmont’s number.
“Sheriff Graves,” she answered, putting the call on speaker.
“Sheriff, it’s Fairmont. Still posted outside Ellington’s place. Thought you should know, there’s been no activity all day. No visitors, no deliveries, not even a light changing from one room to another. Want me to go in and check on him?”
Jenna considered, weighing concern against caution. “No, just maintain your position for now.”
The call ended. After a few moments of silence, Jenna whispered her sister’s words, “Red is for rage.”
“You think Piper was somehow...sensing this?” Jake asked.
“Not before it happened, unfortunately. Derek was already dead when Piper said that. But maybe she was sensing something about the killer. About the motive.”
“Rage,” Jake echoed. “Not exactly a rare emotion toward Derek Sullivan. The man had a talent for making enemies.”
“And not exactly a rare emotion in Trentville these days,” Jenna said. “I wish I understood what was happening to this town.”
Jenna had had checked in with her mother and Piper throughout the day—quick calls or texts between interviews.
She’d been careful not to mention the red yarn connection, not wanting to burden Piper with the knowledge that her cryptic words might be linked to a brutal murder.
So far, Piper hadn’t reported any further episodes, and seemed to be adjusting well to being home again.
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Jenna admitted. “I spent twenty years searching for Piper, and now that I’ve found her, I don’t have time to help her piece her life back together. I’m too busy trying to figure out who’s killing people in my county.”
Jake’s expression softened. “You’re doing everything you can, Jenna. On both fronts.”
She nodded, gratitude warming her despite the frustrations of the day.
Jake had been her rock throughout—taking on extra work, giving her space when she needed to process her emotions about Piper’s return.
She nodded, gratitude warming her despite the frustrations of the day.
She was grateful that they worked so well together, but once again she caught herself imagining how easy it might be to let that partnership slip into something deeper.
Not a good time to be thinking about that, Jenna told herself.
“We should head over to Town Hall,” Jake said, glancing at his watch. “They’re expecting us at nine. What are you planning to say at the Mayor’s public briefing?”
“As little as possible,” Jenna replied, switching off her office light. “Enough to reassure people we’re on top of things, not enough to compromise the investigation or tip off our killer.”
They walked through the quiet station, nodding to the night dispatcher who looked up briefly from her computer.
Outside, the September evening had turned cool, stars pricking through the darkening sky above Trentville.
Jake unlocked Jenna’s cruiser and held the passenger door for her before circling to the driver’s side.
As they pulled away from the station, Jenna gazed out at her town—the storefronts with their warm interior lights, a few pedestrians hurrying home, the familiar landmarks that had defined her entire life.
She had always felt responsible for this place and its people. But tonight, that responsibility sat heavier than ever on her shoulders, weighted by uncertainty and the nagging sense that this was just the beginning of something darker to come.
City Hall windows were blazing with light, and a crowd had gathered on the front steps. Jenna spotted the news vans—three of them parked in spaces normally reserved for city officials, their satellite dishes raised against the night sky.
Jake parked as close as he could, but they still had to navigate through a gauntlet of worried faces and half-heard questions to reach the entrance.
“Sheriff Graves, is this the start of another killing spree?”
“Is it true the victim was wrapped in yarn?”
“Do you have any suspects, Sheriff?”
Jenna moved through them calmly, neither confirming nor denying, offering only a steady “No comment until the briefing” as Jake cleared a path beside her.
The made their way through the doors of City Hall, but inside was worse—the meeting hall packed to capacity, every folding chair filled, people standing along the walls and at the back.
Local news cameras had been set up near the front, their harsh lights creating artificial daylight that washed out the room’s usual warm tones.
Mayor Claire Simmons stood at the podium, her crimson suit a slash of authority. She was speaking with a reporter, her smile camera-ready.
“It’s worse than I expected,” Jake murmured close to Jenna’s ear.
“Murder brings out the crowds,” she replied, scanning the room.
The faces that looked back at her were familiar—shopkeepers, teachers, parents of children she’d known since childhood. But tonight they were transformed by fear, their usual small-town ease replaced by tense vigilance.
Mayor Simmons caught Jenna’s eye and beckoned her forward. As Jenna approached the podium, whispers rippled through the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the mayor began, her voice carrying effortlessly through the room.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice. As you know, our community has experienced a tragedy. I’ve asked Sheriff Graves to address you directly about the ongoing investigation, but first, I want to assure you that the full resources of Trentville’s government are being deployed to ensure your safety. ”
Jenna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Claire’s “full resources” amounted to demanding frequent updates and criticizing investigative decisions she didn’t understand.
“This administration has always prioritized public safety,” Claire continued, hitting each word with perfect emphasis. “We will not rest until the person responsible is brought to justice. And we will not allow fear to define our community.”
Jenna noted that Claire had avoided mentioning Derek Sullivan by name. No personal information, nothing that might suggest the victim was more than an abstract concept. Pure politics.
“Now, I’ll turn this over to Sheriff Graves, who will share what information she can at this time.” Claire stepped back, her smile never wavering as she gestured Jenna forward.
The podium felt like a witness stand as Jenna took her position. The cameras tracked her movement, their red recording lights unwavering.
“Very early this morning,” she began, keeping her voice steady, “Derek Sullivan was found deceased in the old mill district. His death is being investigated as a homicide. I want to be clear about what we know and what we don’t know.”
She paused, making eye contact with different sections of the crowd, establishing connection before delivering difficult news.
“What we know: Mr. Sullivan was last seen leaving the Centaur’s Den around 1:30 a.m. What we don’t know: exactly when or why he was killed. We are pursuing multiple leads and conducting a thorough investigation.”
Murmurs rippled through the audience.
“What we also don’t know,” she continued, “is whether this is an isolated incident or something else. Until we have more information, I strongly advise everyone to take basic safety precautions. Don’t walk alone at night. Be aware of your surroundings. Report anything suspicious immediately.”
A voice called out near the front—a woman from the regional TV station. “Sheriff, is it true the body was wrapped in red yarn? Is this some kind of ritual killing?”
Jenna kept her expression neutral. “I can’t comment on specific evidence at this time. Doing so could compromise our investigation.”
“But you’re not denying it?” the reporter pressed.
“I’m neither confirming nor denying anything about the physical evidence,” Jenna replied firmly. “What I can tell you is that we’re following every lead and working around the clock to solve this case.”
More hands rose, but Mayor Simmons smoothly reclaimed the podium. “We have time for just a few more questions. Please remember that this is an active investigation, and certain details cannot be disclosed.”
The next twenty minutes passed in a blur of questions that Jenna fielded as best she could. No, they didn’t have a suspect in custody. No, she couldn’t specify what physical evidence had been collected. Yes, residents should be vigilant but not panic.
Finally, Claire thanked everyone for coming and announced the end of the briefing.
As the crowd began to disperse, Jenna spotted Ethan Pierce making his way toward her.
The Gateway Herald reporter had developed an unsettling interest in Jenna’s investigative methods after her successes in other cases.
“Sheriff Graves,” he called, his voice carrying above the general murmur. “A moment of your time?”
Jenna suppressed a sigh. “Mr. Pierce, I’ve already answered all the questions I can at this time.”
“But not the most important one. Once again, you’re investigating a murder with minimal physical evidence and no obvious suspects. And once again, people are wondering about your... unconventional methods.”
Jake stepped closer, a subtle show of solidarity. “The sheriff’s methods are thorough and professional, Pierce. That’s all you need to print.”
“Is it?” Pierce persisted, his attention fixed on Jenna. “Because you know as well as I do, there are rumors circulating that Sheriff Graves has some special insight into these cases—something beyond standard police work.”
“Those rumors are exactly that—rumors,” Jenna replied, keeping her voice even. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Pierce lowered his voice, leaning in slightly. “Off the record, Sheriff—how did you know to look for victims in that abandoned mine just a short time ago? No one else had connected those dots. Not even the FBI.”
The question hit too close to home—too close to the truth of her dreams. Jenna maintained her composure through sheer force of will. “Good police work often looks like magic to outsiders, Mr. Pierce. I’m just doing my job.”
Mayor Simmons appeared at Jenna’s elbow, her timing impeccable. “Mr. Pierce, I believe the sheriff has made it clear she has nothing more to add at this time. Perhaps you could direct further questions to my office tomorrow?”
Pierce hesitated, then nodded, though his eyes promised he wasn’t finished. As he walked away, Claire gestured toward the hallway. “My office, Sheriff? Deputy Hawkins, you too.”
The mayor’s office was as pristine as ever, not a paper out of place. Claire closed the door behind them and moved to her desk without offering them seats.
“That could have gone better,” she said, her tone clipped.
Jenna bristled. “We gave them the information they needed without compromising the investigation. What more did you expect?”
“I expected you to have more to report than ‘we’re investigating,’“ Claire replied, her manicured nails tapping an impatient rhythm on her desk. “The last thing this town needs is another unsolved murder creating panic.”
“We’re working with what we have,” Jake told her.
Claire’s gaze slid to him briefly before returning to Jenna. “I can’t help but worry, Sheriff. About how these unusual cases seem to cluster around you. It’s almost as if...”
She let the sentence hang.
“As if what, Mayor?” Jenna asked, her patience wearing dangerously thin.
Claire lowered her head. “As if darkness is drawn to you. Or perhaps you to it.”
The words struck uncomfortably close to what Piper had said about herself—that she had left to draw the darkness away from their family. Jenna fought to keep her expression neutral.
“We’ve been through all this before, Claire,” Jenna said.
Claire sighed apologetically. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just that … with all that’s going on in Trentville … well, it’s hard to be rational.”
“A lot of people feel that way,” Jenna said.
After a pause, Claire added, “How is your sister doing?”
“So far, reasonably well,” Jenna said. “She’s got a long way to go.”
“I wish you and your family the best,” Claire said.
“Thanks,” Jenna said. “Will that be all for now?”
“Yes. And Jenna—I’m grateful for your efforts, even if I don’t show it as often as I should.”
“Thanks for saying that, Claire.”
Jenna turned and left, Jake close behind her. The silence between them held until they reached the cruiser. This time, Jenna took the driver’s seat.
“She keeps making the same old insinuations,” Jake said as Jenna started the engine.
“She’s scared,” Jenna replied, surprising herself with the insight. “Everyone is.”
The trip back to Jake’s house was quiet, the streets emptier than usual as Trentville’s residents heeded her warnings to stay inside.
“Will you be okay?” Jake asked when she dropped him off at his house.
Jenna nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at her. “I think so. One day at a time, right?”
“I guess,” he replied with a shrug.
Jenna met his eyes, and the brief exchange said everything they couldn’t.
He lingered, then shut the door with a soft, decisive click.
Alone in the car, Jenna remembered a conversation where they had tiptoed around the truth of what they meant to each other.
The silence rose like a tide, threatening to engulf her.
She turned on the radio, seeking any noise to fill the space.
Jake went into his house and Jenna continued on her way to Mom’s house. Piper would be there, perhaps sleeping, perhaps still awake and full of questions.
Jenna wasn’t sure which was going to be harder—solving Derek Sullivan’s murder or helping her sister return to a life she barely remembered. And she still wondered what was the connection between the murder and Piper’s pronouncement: “Red is for rage.”
Maybe it was just a coincidence, she thought.
She wished she could make herself believe that.