Page 14 of In Her Path

“I assume you’re here about Curtis Paige,” she said, setting the mug down with a soft thud.

“You heard,” Jenna replied.

“Tom Fischer called me from City Hall this morning. Said there was an ‘incident’ and Paige was dead.” Her mouth curved in a humorless smile. “Took him twenty minutes to admit it might be murder.”

“And what was your reaction, Ms. Freelander?” Jake asked.

Agnes met his gaze without flinching. “Well, I can’t say I’m all broken up about it. But I’m worried about who might have done it and what that means for this town.” She turned to Jenna. “You know as well as I do that Paige had enemies. The question is which one finally decided to stop talking and start acting.”

Jenna set her coffee aside, untouched. “That’s why we’re here. We need names, context, anything you can tell us about who might have wanted Paige dead.”

For a moment, Agnes said nothing. Her office, with its layers of history and memory, seemed to hold its breath. Then she sighed.

“Where to start?” Agnes picked up a pen and a pad of paper, as if she were going to interview Jenna and not the other way around. It was an old habit, as Jenna knew from experience.

“Paige has been on the council for thirty years,” Agnes said. “Thirty years of backroom deals, intimidation, and selective enforcement. He built his power base by making sure the right people got what they wanted and the wrong people paid the price.”

She tapped her pen against the pad. “Three years ago, he pushed through the redevelopment of Mill Street, forcing out six small businesses to make way for the new community center. The owners fought—they had leases, they had history—but Paige made sure the city’s legal team found every loophole, every technicality.”

Jake made a note. “Any specific enemies that come to mind?”

“Councilwoman Judy Keller,” Agnes continued. “She and Paige have been at odds since she was elected. He blocked every initiative she proposed, undermined her at every turn. Last year, he leaked rumors that she was having an affair with the city manager—completely false, but damaging enough that her husband filed for divorce.”

The list continued—a business owner whose liquor license mysteriously failed to renew after he supported Paige’s opponent; a planning commissioner Paige had removed after she questioned his development plans; constituents who had been ignored, dismissed, or threatened when they challenged his decisions.

Through it all, Agnes spoke with the tone of a journalist, her voice betraying neither judgment nor advocacy. But Jenna noticed the careful phrasing, the selective details. Agnes was giving them information, but she was holding something back—protecting someone, perhaps, or waiting to see how much they already knew.

“And then there’s the grant money,” Agnes said. “Last spring, Paige arranged for $200,000 in community development funds to go to a youth center in the east side of town. Noble cause, except the building’s owned by his brother-in-law, and the ‘youth center’ currently operates as a barely-legal poker club.”

Jake frowned. “That’s—”

“Not provable,” Agnes finished. “Paige covered his tracks. He was good at that. Every document, every approval—all technically above board, even if everyone knows it’s not.”

Jenna studied Agnes’s face, looking for the tells she’d learned to recognize over years of questioning witnesses. The slight tightening around the eyes, the almost imperceptible hesitation before certain names. Agnes Freelander knew more than she was saying—not just about Paige’s corruption, but about who might have wanted him dead.

She spotted something in Agnes’s face—a hesitation, a calculation—that set off alarms in her mind. She’d seen it countless times before, the moment when a witness decided what to share and what to bury. Agnes Freelander, with her decades of journalistic instinct, was editing herself in real time, weighing each word before releasing it.

“You’re holding something back,” Jenna said, her voice firm. “I understand protecting sources, Agnes. But this is a murder investigation.”

Agnes’s expression remained neutral, professional. “I’m sharing everything that’s relevant, Sheriff. I don’t want to speculate without evidence. That wouldn’t help your investigation, and it could damage innocent people’s reputations.”

The room felt suddenly smaller. Jenna glanced at Jake, catching the slight nod that signaled he’d noticed it too—the careful words of a witness with information to protect.

“You know better than to hold back information in a murder investigation. And you know the consequences.”

A flash of anger crossed Agnes’s face, quickly controlled. “Are you threatening me, Jenna?”

“I’m reminding you of the stakes.” Jenna held her gaze. “Curtis Paige was stabbed to death in the city council chamber. Someone planned this, waited for the right moment, and took his life. That person is still out there. And if you know anything—anything at all—that might help us find them, you need to tell us. Now.”

The dynamic in the room shifted, the professional courtesy giving way to something sharper. Agnes’s office, with its layers of history and memory, seemed to hold its breath.

Agnes looked down, then back up at Jenna. “There’s a reporter who works for me,” she said finally. “Natalie Grasso. She came to the Weekly News about two years ago, after... after some trouble at the Gateway Herald over in St. Louis.”

Jenna had heard rumors—a promising career derailed by accusations of unethical sourcing, though the details remained murky.

“Natalie’s good,” Agnes continued. “Too good for a weekly in a town this size. And good enough for me to overlook her earlier trouble. She’s got instincts, connections. She’s been digging into Paige’s activities.” She paused. “About a month ago, I was working late. Stepped out to get coffee and heard voices in the break room—Natalie and Warren Oswinkle.”

Jake’s pen paused above his notebook. “The hardware store owner who lost his business?”