CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
At eight in the morning, Selena sat parked outside the sheriff’s department with the engine off and her phone in her hand.
The building looked smaller in daylight than it did during the long evenings.
Brick front. Glass door. Flag hanging limp in the warm air.
Two cruisers in the lot, one deputy's pickup, and a county maintenance truck with a dented tailgate.
The whole place had the practical look of a building built to survive budgets, storms, and complaints from people who wanted faster answers than the government could give.
She had arrived ten minutes early and still had not gone inside.
Her thumb hovered over her father’s number.
The call should not have felt difficult.
Robert Raven was not a suspect. He was not a hostile witness.
He was her father, and he had sounded happy when she saw him briefly the last time she was in town.
That somehow made the delay worse. Every hour she spent in Elmsview without calling him became another small piece of proof that Diane was right about her.
Selena pressed call before she could talk herself out of it.
He answered on the third ring.
“Hey, honey.”
The warmth in his voice made her look down at the steering wheel.
“Hey, Dad.”
“You all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” She watched Cheryl cross past the front window inside, carrying a stack of folders against her chest. “I wanted to let you know I’m going to be in Elmsview for a bit.”
“That’s great.” Robert sounded genuinely pleased. “I hoped you might come visit.”
“Yeah. I’m really sorry I haven’t dropped by yet.”
“You working?”
“I am.”
“Is it to do with Warren Holt and Victor Schmidt?”
Selena closed her eyes for half a second. Of course he knew. Everyone knew.
“It is.”
“They were nice fellas.”
“Oh, so you knew them?”
“Warren a little. Few drinks at Roy’s over the years.
We’d talk cars sometimes. He had opinions about everything, most of them too loud.
But he wasn’t bad company once he settled.
” Robert paused, and Selena heard the soft creak of a chair.
“Victor I knew pretty well here and there. I helped him with that old Chevy of his a number of times.”
“What old Chevy?”
“Seventy-one C10. Blue. Beautiful truck when it felt like behaving. Victor had more enthusiasm than mechanical sense, but he loved the thing. Used to bring it by the house when it coughed wrong.”
Selena saw Victor’s photograph on the board in her mind. Dead in an armchair. A man reduced to evidence while the county remembered him through trucks, soccer games, grain contracts, and missed anniversaries.
“I didn’t know that,” she said.
“You wouldn’t. You’ve been gone a long time.”
The words were gentle. That made them harder to take.
A voice sounded in the background, sharper and female.
Robert moved away from the phone. “That’s Diane. Hold on.”
A muffled scrape followed. Robert’s hand covered the phone badly enough that Selena heard almost everything.
“Diane, Lena’s on the phone. You want to speak with her?”
A pause. Then Diane’s voice came through with painful clarity.
“When she shows her face, then we can talk.”
Selena’s throat tightened.
Robert came back on. His tone had brightened too much. “Eh, your sister’s busy Selena, but you two should catch up soon.”
“Sure,” Selena said.
Across the lot, Connor’s SUV turned in and parked beside Arnold’s cruiser.
Selena watched him climb out. Uniform on. Hat in place. He moved with the stiff control of a man who had not slept well and had decided nobody would get to mention it. When he saw her through the windshield, he tipped his hat.
The gesture was polite. Distant enough to sting.
“Dad, I’ve got to go,” she said. “I’ll drop by when I can, okay?”
“I’m looking forward to it, honey.”
“I am, too.”
The line ended.
For a few seconds, Selena kept the phone in her hand. Guilt sat heavily in her chest, but guilt would not identify the person who had killed Warren Holt and Victor Schmidt. Her father had waited this long. He could wait a few more hours.
That sounded ugly even in her own head.
Connor walked into the department without looking back.
“Good,” Selena muttered. “At least he turned up this time.”
She got out and crossed the lot.
Inside, the reception area already had the restless feel of a place trying to outrun a bad day. Phones rang. A printer stuttered behind the desk. Cheryl looked up as Selena entered, one hand holding a pen above an open logbook.
“Morning,” Cheryl said.
“Morning.”
“Mr. Grumpy Pants is already in,” Cheryl said with a smile.
Despite herself, Selena smiled. “That his official title now?”
“Only before nine.”
Selena pulled a little piece of thread from her top. “Any calls from Marlene Schmidt?”
“Not yet.”
Selena nodded toward the back. “I’ll be in the briefing room.”
“Agent Raven.”
Selena stopped.
Cheryl’s expression had softened since the previous evening, though not by much. “Amanda said she talked too much.”
“She gave us information we needed.”
“Is Marlene in trouble?”
“That depends on what Marlene tells us. But I don’t want her warned I’m going over there today once she’s back in town.”
Cheryl absorbed that, then looked down at the logbook. “Right.”
Selena continued to the back.
Connor and Arnold were in the briefing room. Connor stood near the side table pouring coffee into a mug. Arnold leaned against a filing cabinet with one ankle crossed over the other, deep in a speech that seemed to have begun before Selena reached the door.
“I’m just saying,” Arnold said, “if my mom had let me play year-round, things could’ve gone different. I had a decent jump shot.”
Connor took a sip from the mug. “Maybe if you were a foot taller.”
“There are great smaller players out there.”
“I just don’t see you competing.”
Arnold straightened. “That’s hurtful, Chief.”
“Someone has to keep your feet on the ground.”
Selena stepped in. “Hey.”
Both men looked over.
Arnold grinned. “Agent Raven. Tell him there are shorter basketball players.”
“There are shorter basketball players.”
“Thank you.”
Connor sat on the edge of the table, mug in hand. “Would you draft Arnold?”
Selena looked Arnold up and down. “For morale, maybe.”
Arnold pointed at her. “That was almost support.”
Selena laughed.
The small exchange eased the room for a few seconds. Then Selena saw the evidence board and the lightness fell away.
Warren and Victor stared back from pinned photographs.
Connor spoke first. “We’ve gone over Victor and Warren’s cell phone record, but nothing that indicates that either of them was having an affair.”
“Could have used a phone we haven’t found yet. If they were being careful,” Selena said.
“We’ve also had a full forensic write-up from Matt Price, signed off by Dr. Blethan,” Arnold added.
“I’ll take a look.”
“There’s not much in it,” Connor pointed out.
“No prints or footprints from each scene. No DNA. Nothing. Just a single shot to the head of each victim, and that strange blank piece of paper. That’s it.
The revolver at the lodge matched the round from Warren, but there were no prints on it.
Whoever staged the scene wiped it clean. ”
“Did we get anything back from Maple Street?” Selena asked. “Did any of the neighbors have ring cams or security cameras that might have caught someone coming and going?”
“Nothing like that, sorry,” Arnold answered. “It’s just not that type of place. People feel safe here. Well… Felt safe.”
Selena looked at the murder board, and she shook her head, knowing there was still too much missing.
Connor followed her gaze. “So what’s our first point of business today?”
Selena set her bag on a chair. “We need to speak with Marlene about why she lied about being in town.”
Arnold’s grin disappeared.
Connor did not speak. His eyes stayed on Selena, hard and disappointed for one brief second before he hid it behind the coffee mug.
Arnold said, “She’s due back today with the kids. We can call her, if you’d like?”
“Can you try contacting her and letting her know we’d like a chat?” Selena asked. “I’d rather speak in person.”
Arnold looked at Connor, then back at Selena. “No problem. I’ll do it.”
“Thank you.”
Connor took another sip. The look had passed, but Selena had not missed it. Disapproval. Defensiveness. Maybe fear. Marlene Schmidt belonged to his county, which meant he saw a person before he saw a suspect. That made him decent. It also made him dangerous to the case.
Selena moved closer to the board.
Victor’s photograph had been placed beside Warren’s, with a separate row for Carl Higgins, Ray Parkinson, Sandra Holt, and Marlene Schmidt. None of them sat comfortably in the pattern. Business grudges, suspected affairs, missing alibis. It all spread sideways when it should have narrowed.
Unless she had been asking the wrong question.
Selena studied Warren’s file photo, then Victor’s. Two husbands, she thought. The thought bounced around her mind for a moment.
“Have there been any other husbands who’ve died suspiciously recently?”
Connor lowered his mug. “Um... Not really.”
She turned. “What does not really mean?”
Arnold’s eyebrows lifted. “You thinking of Gary Beaumont, Chief?”
Connor set the mug on the table. “Possibly.”
“Who’s Gary Beaumont?” Selena asked.
Connor rubbed a hand along his jaw. “Local guy. Late forties. He drowned about a year ago.”
“Suspiciously?”
“Not officially,” Arnold answered.
Arnold came away from the filing cabinet. “It wasn’t suspicious at the time. Gary got drunk while fishing at Porter’s Pond. Alone, far as anybody knew. Theory was he passed out or lost his balance and fell in.”
“Who found him?” Selena asked.
“Couple of teenagers the next morning,” Connor said. “They were cutting through the trees to smoke where their parents wouldn’t catch them.”
“Was there an autopsy?”
“Dr. Blethan handled it.” Connor gave her a look. “Cause of death was drowning. Alcohol in his system. No obvious signs of assault.”
“No obvious signs?”
“Gary had bruising. But a man falling near rocks and roots can bruise himself.”
Selena wrote Gary Beaumont in her notebook. “Was he married?”
Arnold nodded. “Renee Beaumont. She reported him missing when he didn’t come home.”
The name snagged in Selena’s mind.
For a moment, the room seemed to quiet around it.
“Renee,” she said.
Connor watched her. “What?”
Selena flipped back through her notebook, moving past the Ray Parkinson interview, Amanda Lee, Carl Higgins, Sandra Holt. Then she found the page from Warren’s house.
Sandra Holt. Janet. Renee.
She tapped the page with her pen. “Sandra Holt had a friend comforting her after Warren died. Her name was Renee.”
Connor’s posture changed.
Arnold looked between them. “Same Renee?”
Connor stepped closer. “Yes. Renee Beaumont.”
Selena felt the board shift in her head. Not physically. The photographs stayed where they were, but the connections between them changed shape.
“Her husband drowned a year ago,” she said. “Now her friend’s husband gets murdered. Do we know if Gary was ever accused of cheating on Renee?”
Connor was quiet for a moment. “Wait, who was that baker?”
“Baker?” Selena asked.
“Yeah,” Connor said with a nod. “Oh… She was here for a year or so… Mavis…
“Turnberry,” Arnold said proudly.
Connor snapped his fingers together. “Bingo. Mavis Turnberry. I remember Gary being a bit smitten with her. Just rumors though.”
“It’s worth exploring,” Selena said. Arnold shifted. “I suppose Renee has always been a strange one. She was pretty out there when Gary died.”
“Coincidences happen,” Selena said. “Patterns happen, too.”
Connor moved to the board and stared at Sandra Holt’s name. “Renee was at Sandra’s house when we interviewed her.”
“She encouraged Sandra to tell us Warren was having an affair.”
“Your memory’s better than mine, Selena.”
“So, Amanda Lee told me Marlene thought Victor was having an affair.” Selena pointed to Victor’s photograph. “Warren’s wife suspected an affair. Victor’s wife suspected an affair. Renee’s husband died under circumstances you considered accidental because he was drunk and near water.”
Arnold folded his arms. “Are we thinking Renee is connected to all of them?”
Connor’s mouth tightened. “Gary’s death was a year ago. If someone murdered him, they waited a long time before killing Warren.”
Selena thought for a moment. “Maybe Gary was the first. Maybe something changed recently. Maybe Warren and Victor aren’t connected through business at all. Perhaps Renee killed them for being unfaithful.”
“But why?”
“Maybe after Gary died, she started seeing unfaithful husbands as men who deserved punishment. I don’t know... I’m spit-balling here. It’s just a thought.”
Arnold let out a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a turn.”
Selena looked back at the board. “Warren was killed in a place of his old triumphs, the old hunting lodge. Victor was killed at home, where Marlene expected to catch him. These scenes may be built around intimate humiliation, not contracts.”
Something shifted in Connor. His eyes were alight with intention.
“I think you’re onto something. Sure as hell better than the Marlene angle.” He picked up his hat from the table.
Selena caught the relief in his voice. That worried her almost as much as the theory itself. She noticed the speed of it. “Where are you going?”
“To see Renee.”
“Not alone.”
“I wasn’t suggesting alone.” He put the hat on and adjusted the brim. “I’ll take you.”
Arnold looked at the phone on the desk. "Want me to keep trying, Marlene?"
“Yes,” Selena said. “Let us know when she gets back. And pull the Gary Beaumont file. Everything. Incident report, photos, autopsy, witness statements, call logs.”
Arnold grabbed a notepad. “On it.”
Connor had already reached the door.
Selena took one last look at the board before following him. Warren and Victor no longer looked like two separate men pinned beside separate grievances.
They looked like warnings from a hurt that had started a year earlier.
Connor held the door open for her.
“Let’s go talk to Gary’s widow,” he said.