Page 5 of In Her Path

“I’ll call if I need anything,” Jenna promised. “But right now, I need you here with Mom. It’s better if—”

“If I stay out of the way.” Piper’s mouth tightened. “If I’m protected. If I’m treated like I’m breakable.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s exactly what you meant.” But there was no heat in Piper’s accusation, just a weary acceptance.

“Piper, your sister’s right,” Mom said, appearing in the doorway. “Besides, you’ve got an appointment with Dr. White later this morning, remember?”

Jenna stepped out into the crisp morning air, pulling the door firmly shut behind her. Through the window, she could see Piper’s silhouette, watching as Jenna crossed to her car. The dream’s chill had settled deep into her bones, but Jenna pushed it aside as she slid behind the wheel.

She had a job to do—and a dead man had already come to her for help.

CHAPTER TWO

Jenna pulled up to City Hall, cutting the engine and sitting for a moment behind the wheel. The image of Curtis Paige’s silently working mouth refused to dissolve, the residue of her dream still clinging to her mind.

City Hall’s facade suggested both stability and long-term budget constraints. But the scene in front transformed it: cruisers parked at odd angles across the front walk, their light bars silent but their presence an alert; yellow police tape strung across the main entrance like a garish necklace; and officers standing with the posture of men and women dealing with a grim situation.

The two officers guarding the entrance lifted the tape without comment, and Jenna ducked under. Inside, the lobby held that particular stillness that settled over a building after something terrible had happened in it.

Jake met her in the corridor just outside the council chamber doors. The look they exchanged held more than just professional understanding; it was a connection, a mutual charge that Jenna felt even through the morning’s shock.

“Talk to me,” she said, already reaching for gloves.

“One of the cleaning crew found him around seven-thirty,” Jake said, keeping his voice low. “I’ve got two officers keeping everyone out. Melissa Stark is with the body.”

Jenna was glad to hear that Dr. Stark, the coroner, was already on the job.

“I moved to limit access to the building,” Jake continued. “Only essential personnel inside. The cleaning staff in the break room down the hall. I’ve got Officer Oster talking to them. And the one who found the body is in a separate area.”

“Good work. Who else knows?”

“The mayor’s office,” Jake said. “Mayor Simmons is in her office, waiting to talk with us there.”

Jenna stifled a sigh. She and Claire Simmons often found themselves at odds in tense situations. It wasn’t a conversation she was looking forward to.

“She can wait until we’ve done some preliminary work,” Jenna said. “What about his next of kin?”

“His wife’s name is Evelyn. When we checked his cellphone, we saw that she tried to call several times early this morning. I sent Officer Delgado to her home to tell her what happened—or at least what we know at this point.”

“That was a good call,” Jenna said. Maria Delgado was her most empathetic officer, especially good at dealing with emotionally sensitive issues.

Jenna signaled to the officer stationed at the chamber doors, who stepped aside.

“Let’s go in,” she said to Jake.

The council chamber was larger than most rooms in a town Trentville’s size. A raised dais lined the far wall where the council members sat during sessions, looking out over the gallery of chairs meant for the public. Long windows along the south wall let in flat gray morning light.

Jenna felt the now-familiar sensation of her mind splitting—part of her cataloging details with professional detachment, noting the position of the body, the lack of obvious defensive wounds, the relatively small amount of blood visible—and another part registering that a man was dead, a public figure killed in the building that represented the heart of Trentville’s civic life.

The body of Curtis Paige lay on the floor beside the council table, one arm extended as though he’d fallen asleep mid-reach. His head was turned slightly to the left, face partially obscured by the fall of his thinning gray hair.

A thick leather-bound ledger sat open on the table, its pages fanned slightly. A pen had rolled to the floor and come to rest against the leg of the chair, a small, domestic detail amid the evidence of violence.

Officers worked the perimeter of the room. One dusted the door frames and the arm of a nearby chair, his brush moving in small, precise arcs. Another photographed the table surface and the floor around the body in careful, overlapping shots.

Dr. Stark was already crouched near the body, working methodically, her kit open beside her on a sheet of plastic. She acknowledged Jenna and Jake but didn’t stop what she was doing. She moved efficiently, adjusting instruments, making notes on a pad balanced on her knee. The silver of her hair caught the light as she bent forward to examine something at the base of Paige’s neck.