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With a quick nod of agreement, Phoebe turned her focus back to the entrance of the yarn shop. Jenna was nowhere to be found.
Phoebe took the two ends of her scarf and tied them together before slowly walking in the direction of the café. She had to believe that Jenna showing herself today was a sign. Every appearance over the past eleven years had been some sort of signal.
Phoebe always signed off every episode of their podcast the same way—stay curious, stay vigilant, and always remember that graves may hold more than mere memories.
It was time for her to take the Graveside Mysteries motto to heart.
The moment had arrived to uncover the dark secrets that Jenna had taken with her to the grave.
Chapter Three
Phoebe
Murmurs of conversation and light laughter from locals and tourists alike filled the coffee shop. The aromas of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon mingled together, and the line at the counter confirmed the café's popularity. The walls were adorned with nautical décor—framed maps, rope knots, buoys, and old black-and-white photographs that had captured the town's seafaring history. In addition to its maritime charm, the café had opted to use porcelain mugs and actual silverware to enhance its appeal.
Phoebe still couldn't chase away the penetrating cold that had settled in her bones at the sight of her dead sister. No matter how many times such an experience had occurred over the years, it never got easier.
Needing to concentrate on the task at hand, Phoebe scanned the patrons inside the café. A few of the tables were occupied by familiar faces who were catching up over coffee and pastries. Some smiled and waved, expecting her to stop by and chat. She didn’t make it into town often, but that was by design.
Behind the counter, a young barista steamed milk for specialty orders. Another employee had been tasked with taking orders, and the coffee shop was busy enough that Phoebe would either need to wait in line for a Chai tea or forego her favorite beverage. She opted for the latter since she was slightly nauseous over the upcoming conversation.
Her gaze finally landed on Chief Bennett. He was sitting alone at a small table in the far corner. Even from across the room, his posture exuded authority. His thin lips were compressed together in irritation as usual, and he had gone grey near his temples. His signature mustache had more salt than pepper, and there were additional frown lines on either side of the neatly trimmed facial hair that hadn’t been there during her childhood.
A manilla folder lying next to his steaming cup of coffee caught her attention.
Phoebe hesitated to push aside the unwelcome memories. Then again, her wavering response probably had more to do with Jenna materializing out front of their mother's yarn shop.
Chief Bennett met Phoebe's gaze.
She drew in a sharp breath and began to weave through some of the tables, calling out a few greetings on her way. She didn't pause long enough to get caught up in a conversation, but she was certain to be the topic of discussion after everyone witnessed her sitting down with the chief.
"Phoebe," Chief Bennett greeted as he observed her pull out the chair opposite him. His voice was still raspy, which told her that he probably still enjoyed his daily cigar. "It's been a while."
Phoebe sat down across from him, not bothering to take off her jacket. She was still cold, and there was no reason to add to her discomfort.
"I don't get into town as much as I should," Phoebe reluctantly admitted as she pulled her hands out of her pockets. "It's good to see you, Chief. I appreciate you taking my call yesterday."
Chief Bennett had always firmly maintained that Jenna's death was a tragic accident. Initially, Phoebe had been very vocal that she disagreed, but everyone had just assumed she was being a dramatic teenager who couldn't face the truth. The only reason she had never requested Jenna's case file was because of her parents.
Tonight's dinner would change all that.
Phoebe did her best not to shift in her seat under Chief Bennett's intense stare. It was as if she were that grieving sixteen-year-old all over again, and her resentment began to resurface. She cleared her throat and refused to look away.
Chief Bennett eventually spoke, his gravelly voice lowered so that he wouldn't be overheard by the locals. Some of the customers in the café were her mother's friends. It was obvious that he was choosing his words carefully, but Phoebe got the sense it wasn't due to those around them so much as how she might take his forthcoming advice.
"I know this can't be easy for you, Phoebe," Chief Bennett began, wrapping his fingers around his cup. "Dragging up the past, reopening old wounds—I'm not sure it's the healthiest thing to do. Not just for you, but for Lilith and Kenneth, too."
Phoebe was regretting her decision not to order a Chai tea. She would have loved something warm to wrap her hands around while having this discussion. The chatter of the patrons seemed to fade into the background as she collected her thoughts.
"With all due respect, Chief Bennett, I need to see Jenna’s file for myself," Phoebe said evenly. "I keep reliving that day over and over again. I'm still convinced that Jenna wouldn't have broken her promise to me. She never would have gone out on that ice without me."
"There isn't anything in this file that can provide you with answers or closure. All that is included in the report are details of a tragic accident—nothing more."
Phoebe never wavered her stare, and there was no doubting the man's convictions about what he had investigated that cold, winter day. He ran his fingers over his mustache to smooth the edges. His internal conflict about whether he should relent about Jenna's file was written on his craggy features.
"You always were stubborn, even as a young'un."
Phoebe didn't return his smile.
