CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Even as Jake guided his cruiser past cheerful storefronts coming to life with morning commerce, Jenna had to suppress a shiver. Two murders in as many days, both victims adorned in colored yarn like macabre artworks.
“You’re quiet,” Jake said, glancing at her as they stopped at a red light. “Thinking about the connection between the yarns?”
“Red is for rage,” Jenna murmured. “And green is for envy. Those two things Piper said—they’re what the yarns mean, I’m sure of it.”
The light changed, and they moved forward.
“And it fits,” Jenna said. “Derek Sullivan had anger issues. And Amanda Hartford...”
“Was eaten alive by jealousy over Heather Banning’s success,” Jake finished. “And everybody in town knew about both of them and their issues.”
Jenna nodded, watching as they approached the block where Banning’s Finds occupied a prime corner spot, large windows displaying artfully arranged home goods and clothing. Even from the car, Jenna could see customers already browsing inside.
“You think Heather Banning had anything to do with it?” Jake asked as he parked the car.
“I don’t know,” Jenna admitted. “But she had the most obvious motive, at least for Amanda’s murder. And there’s something about her that’s always seemed too perfect, too polished. Like she’s performing.”
“Well, let’s see what’s behind that shiny storefront.”
They exited the car and entered the store. The interior was even more impressive than the window display suggested—exposed brick walls, gleaming hardwood floors, and merchandise arranged with an eye for both aesthetics and sales.
Heather Banning stood near a central display table, deep in conversation with a young female employee.
She wore a navy dress that looked both comfortable and expensive, her ash-blonde hair pulled back in an elegant twist. As they approached, she glanced up, her expression shifting from animated business owner to careful neutrality at the sight of their uniforms.
She said something quiet to her employee, then turned to them with an appropriate smile. “Sheriff Graves, Deputy Hawkins. What brings you to my little shop this morning?”
Jenna took in the “little shop” with its expansive layout and premium inventory. Nothing about this place was small or simple.
“Is there somewhere we could speak privately, Ms. Banning?” she asked.
Heather’s smile faltered slightly, curiosity and then concern flashing across her features. “Of course. Is something wrong?”
“It would be better if we could discuss this in private,” Jake added.
Heather nodded, her gaze darting briefly to the customers who had begun to notice the law enforcement presence. “Macy, could you watch the floor for a bit?” she called to the employee she’d been speaking with. “I’ll be in my office with the sheriff.”
The young woman nodded, shooting a curious glance at Jenna and Jake before returning to straightening a display of hand-knitted scarves.
Jenna noted with irony that several featured yarns in vibrant colors, including a deep green, but she saw that the yarn used was much finer than those found on the bodies.
Heather led them through the store to a door marked “Private” at the rear.
Her office continued the aesthetic of the shop—stylish but functional, with framed awards and newspaper articles featuring Banning’s Finds adorning one wall.
A large desk dominated the space. No clutter, no chaos, nothing out of place. Just like Heather herself.
“Please, have a seat,” Heather offered, gesturing to two chairs positioned opposite her desk. She closed the door and took her own seat. “Now, what’s this about?”
Jenna met her eyes directly. “I’m afraid I have some difficult news. Amanda Hartford was found murdered in her apartment this morning.”
Heather’s perfectly composed face crumpled, eyes widening in what appeared to be genuine shock. “Amanda? Murdered? That’s... that’s horrible.”
Jenna watched her carefully. The reaction seemed authentic—the rapid pulse visible at Heather’s throat, the sudden pallor beneath her makeup. But Jenna had interviewed enough suspects to know that similar reactions could be manufactured by those who were skilled.
“When? How did it happen?” Heather asked, her voice slightly unsteady.
“She was discovered early this morning by a friend who came to pick her up for their regular walk,” Jake supplied. “Based on preliminary findings, we believe she was killed sometime last night.”
“This is just...” Heather shook her head. “I know Amanda and I had our differences, but I never wished that on her. Never.”
“Speaking of those differences,” Jenna said, “that’s part of the reason we’re here.”
Heather’s gaze sharpened, the initial shock receding enough for her to process Jenna’s implication. “Wait. You don’t think I had anything to do with this?”
“We’re talking to everyone who had significant interactions with Ms. Hartford, particularly those that might have involved conflict,” Jenna said, keeping her tone professional. “It’s standard procedure.”
Heather leaned back in her chair slightly, a subtle defensive posture.
“Is this connected to what happened to Derek Sullivan? I heard he was killed yesterday.” She was silent for a moment, then added, “There was something odd in the news about Derek … something about yarn. Was anything like that …?”“
“We can’t comment on any potential connections between ongoing investigations,” Jenna replied smoothly.
“But two murders in two days in Trentville? That can’t be a coincidence.”
“Ms. Banning,” Jenna redirected, “could you tell us about your history with Amanda Hartford? My understanding is that there was significant animosity between you two.”
Heather sighed. “The animosity was one-sided, Sheriff. I never harbored ill will toward Amanda. When I opened my store, I had no intention of competing directly with Hartford’s Closet. My focus was primarily on home goods and local artisan items.”
“Yet you expanded into clothing and accessories,” Jake noted. “Areas that directly overlapped with her business.”
“That was simply responding to customer demand,” Heather said. “People would come in here looking for those kinds of items. It was a natural evolution.”
Jenna studied her. “And the lawsuit Amanda filed against you? For allegedly stealing her business concepts and suppliers?”
A flash of irritation crossed Heather’s features, quickly suppressed. “That lawsuit was unfortunate and completely without merit. The court agreed, which is why it was dismissed.”
“But it did significant financial damage to her business,” Jenna pressed. “The legal fees alone were enough to push Hartford’s Closet toward bankruptcy, according to several sources.”
“That was Amanda’s choice to pursue legal action, not mine,” Heather countered. Her tone remained polite, but Jenna detected a hardening around her eyes. “I even tried to reach out to her afterward. I offered to collaborate on a joint event that might have helped her business recover. She refused.”
“That was generous of you,” Jenna said, keeping her expression neutral. “How did you feel when her store closed down?”
Heather hesitated, her perfect composure showing the first genuine crack. “Of course I felt bad for her. Nobody wants to see a fellow business owner fail.”
“But it did benefit your shop,” Jake noted. “With Hartford’s Closet gone, you became the primary destination for mid-range women’s clothing and accessories in Trentville.”
“Business isn’t a zero-sum game,” Heather replied, but the words sounded rehearsed, like something from a business school textbook rather than a genuine sentiment.
“Isn’t it, though?” Jenna leaned forward slightly. “In a town this size, with limited customer base? One store’s success often comes at another’s expense.”
The smile slipped from Heather’s face. “What are you trying to get me to say, Sheriff? That I’m happy Amanda’s store failed? That I engineered it somehow?”
“I’m just trying to understand the nature of your relationship with the victim.”
“The nature of our relationship,” Heather repeated slowly.
Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Fine. You want honesty? Business is business. Amanda failed to understand the market. She didn’t adapt when consumer preferences changed.
She kept the same inventory, the same prices, the same tired displays year after year. ”
“And you took advantage of that,” Jake said.
Heather’s chin lifted. “I recognized an opportunity and I seized it. That’s what entrepreneurs do. We see gaps and we fill them.” A new sharpness entered her voice. “It’s sometimes necessary to be a little ruthless to succeed in this world. Amanda, for all her abrasiveness, wasn’t ruthless enough.”
“Ruthless.” Jenna let that word linger, watching as Heather seemed to realize how it sounded in light of Amanda’s murder.
“I didn’t mean—” Heather began.
“Did you have any interactions with Derek Sullivan?” Jenna asked, changing tack.
Heather blinked at the sudden shift. “Derek Sullivan? No, not really. He was just the town drunk. Everyone knew who he was, but I never had any personal dealings with him.”
“You said earlier you thought the two murders must be connected,” Jenna noted. “Any specific reason for thinking that?”
“Well, yes. Two murders in Trentville within twenty-four hours? It stands to reason they’re related somehow.” Heather folded her arms. “Though I can’t imagine what connection there could be between Amanda and Derek. They moved in completely different circles.”
“You also mentioned yarn. Is that an item you sell here, or work with yourself?”
Heather's perfectly plucked eyebrows arched slightly. "I'm a businesswoman. I wouldn't know the first thing about knitting or any of those... homespun hobbies. Of course I do carry high-quality handmade items in the shop, especially if the craftsperson is locally well-known."
Jenna had already realized that someone in her department would need to check on craftspeople in the county who worked with yarn.
“Where were you between midnight and two a.m. last night, Ms. Banning?” Jake asked.
Heather’s expression rippled from surprise to indignation. “I was at home, in bed. Asleep.”
“Can anyone confirm that?” Jenna asked.
“I live alone, Sheriff.” Heather’s voice had cooled considerably. “So no, I don’t have an alibi, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“And the night before last? Between ten p.m. and midnight?” Jake continued.
“Also at home.” Heather’s gaze hardened. “Also alone. Do I need to call my lawyer now?”
“That’s entirely your choice, Ms. Banning,” Jenna replied evenly. “We’re simply gathering information at this stage.”
“It seems like you’re gathering suspicions, not information.” Heather stood, signaling the end of the interview. “I’ve answered your questions as a courtesy, but I think I’ve said enough. If you have more, you can speak to my attorney.”
Jenna and Jake rose as well. “Thank you for your time,” Jenna said. “We may need to follow up as the investigation progresses.”
“I’m sure you will,” Heather replied, moving toward the door. “And I’m truly sorry about Amanda. Whatever issues existed between us, I would never have wished her harm.”
The statement sounded sincere, but something in Heather’s eyes—a guardedness, a calculation—made Jenna wonder what lay beneath the perfect surface. As they were escorted back through the shop, Jenna noticed that several customers had departed, perhaps put off by the police presence.
Outside, the morning sun had climbed higher, burning away the last of the morning chill. Jake waited until they were back in the cruiser before speaking.
“So? Do we consider her a person of interest?”
Jenna buckled her seatbelt, contemplating. “I don’t know. She might have had motive—the lingering business rivalry, Amanda’s social media posts about her. But motive alone isn’t enough. And we’ve seen no connection with Derek. Or with yarn, for that matter.”
“So far. But that comment about being ruthless...”
“Exactly. People who pride themselves on being ruthless in business sometimes don’t recognize when they’ve crossed a line into something darker.”
Jake started the engine. “Where to next?”
“The Community Wellness Center,” Jenna replied, already reaching for her phone. “Meanwhile, I think Ms. Banning could use some extra attention.”
As Jake pulled away from the curb, Jenna began to dial the station to assign an officer to keep an eye on Heather—not obviously enough to constitute harassment, but thoroughly enough to note any unusual behavior.
Also to have someone start checking out craftspeople who used yarn, at least for their opinions or possible information about the killer’s source.
Even as she made the call, her mind kept seeing those intricate patterns wrapped around Derek Sullivan and Amanda Hartford.
What could have bound those two people together in death?
The answer was out there, and if she couldn’t untangle it fast enough, someone else’s life would soon be woven into this killer’s grotesque tapestry.