Page 50 of In Her Path

“Confirmed visually,” Jenna said. “We need forensics to be certain, but yes.”

The line fell silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, Spelling’s voice had the neutrality of a man choosing his words carefully.

“I’ve known Claire Simmons for eight years. She’s been the Mayor of Trentville that entire time. Are you suggesting she’s your killer, Sheriff?”

Jenna glanced at Jake, who gave a small shake of his head.

“We’re not suggesting anything yet, sir,” she replied. “But the security footage is clear—someone wearing an outfit identical to the Mayor’s entered City Hall last night. The ice pick was left on her desk, and the box was in her filing cabinet.”

Another pause. “You need forensics at both locations,” Spelling finally said. “I’ll send a team to City Hall and to the Holt residence immediately. And I’ll put out a statewide APB on the Mayor. Give me a description of her vehicle.”

“Dark blue Mercedes sedan,” Jenna said, remembering the car. “Last year’s model, I think. Missouri plates, but I don’t know the number.”

“I’ll have it in the system within five minutes.” A keyboard clicked in the background. “Sheriff, this is sensitive. The Mayor is a public figure with significant connections. We need to handle this with discretion.”

“Of course.”

Jenna sensed Spelling’s caution before he spoke again.

“Sheriff Graves—Jenna—have you had any insights that might help with the case?”

Jenna kept her voice neutral. “I had a dream about Curtis Paige the night before he was found. He appeared to me, unable to speak. The next day, I found out that his tongue had been removed. And last night, the same thing happened with Diane Holt—mute, trying to communicate. Each of the dreams came before I knew either victim was dead. But I’m afraid my dreams have been of no real help.”

She took a breath. “There’s something else you should know. My sister, Piper. She’s been helping with the investigation.”

“You told me that she has similar abilities.” Spelling stated.

“She doesn’t dream. But she hears voices and sometimes gets visions. And it was Piper who led us to the box in the Mayor’s filing cabinet. She said we’d find it filed under T.” Jenna glanced at the open drawer. “T is for tongues.”

Silence again, longer this time. “I’ve read about cases of siblings with similar paranormal abilities. Rare, but documented.” His tone shifted to one of genuine interest. “I’d like to speak with her when this is over,” Spelling said. “But right now, we need to focus on the investigation.” His voice shifted back to military efficiency. “My team will be at City Hall within the hour. The APB goes out immediately. And Sheriff?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Trust your instincts on this. If something feels wrong about the Mayor as a suspect, follow that thread. But be careful—we’re dealing with someone who’s killed twice already.”

The call ended, and Jenna set her phone down. The office suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. She looked at the box again, the tongues now partly obscured by Jake’s evidence markers.

“They’re going to think she’s guilty,” Jake said quietly. “Everyone will.”

“I know.” Jenna rubbed her temple. “But it doesn’t make sense. Why would Claire leave evidence in her own office? Why be caught on camera?”

“Unless she wanted to be,” Jake said. “Or unless it wasn’t her. I wonder …”

Jake’s voice faded.

“Wonder what?” Jenna said.

Jake shrugged his shoulders as if shaking off an unwanted thought.

“We need to talk to Meredith,” Jake said.

*

Frank continued on his way through the building, the image of those severed tongues still burning in his mind. He’d seen plenty of horrors in his thirty years with the department—accidents, homicides, suicides—but there was something particularly disturbing about the clinical nature of those removals. This wasn’t rage or impulse; this was method, intent, a message delivered with surgical precision.

The corridor outside was quiet, the municipal building not yet fully awake. A few office doors stood open, the murmur of phones and hushed conversations drifting out. Frank straightened his shoulders and walked purposefully, eyes scanning for Meredith Soll.

He spotted a woman hurrying down the hall with an armful of files—one of the administrative assistants whose name he couldn’t recall. She paused when she saw him, recognition flashing across her face.