Page 22 of In Her Memory

Maria saw that the authorization was legitimate. For some reason, the Trentville mayor was content to have this situation referred to as an accident rather than a crime. Slowly, she began packing the luminol kit, conscious of both men watching her every move. She knew that fighting this decision could become a political battle, and that was one aspect of police work that she did not feel equipped to handle.

“I’ll be noting in my report that this investigation was interrupted,” she said, keeping her voice level despite her frustration.

“Note whatever you like,” Nolan replied. “But this matter is in more capable hands now.”

Maria sealed her evidence bags, labeled her photos, and gathered her equipment, refusing to be rushed despite the pressure of their presence. In the hallway, Nolan caught the door before it closed. “Everything’s under your authority now, Mr. Bickel,” she heard him say. “Whatever you need.”

Maria pulled her phone from her pocket as she walked toward the elevator. She dialed Deputy Hawkins’s number, waiting for him to pick up as the elevator doors closed behind her.

*

Jenna pulled into the City Hall parking lot just as Jake was climbing out of his cruiser, his phone pressed to his ear. His expression told her everything she needed to know – something had gone wrong. She killed the engine and stepped out.

She caught Jake’s gaze across the parking lot. He held up one finger, signaling her to wait as he finished his call. She leaned against her patrol car, watching him pace a tight circle near the sidewalk. When he finally ended the call, Jake strode toward her with quick, angry steps.

“What happened?” Jenna asked.

“Maria just got kicked out of the crime scene.” Jake ran a hand through his sandy hair. “A private investigator showed up with Nolan Greer and a letter of authorization supposedly signed by our esteemed mayor. Maria decided not to get into a fight over it.”

“You’re kidding.”

“It gets better.” Jake’s voice was tight with frustration. “Maria had just finished testing the floor with luminol. Got a positive result – a significant blood pattern, not just a small spot where someone might have fallen. She took photos, but then Greer and this PI barged in before she could do any further analysis.”

“Who’s the PI?” Jenna started walking toward the building entrance, Jake falling in beside her.

“Hugh Bickel, of all people,” Jake said. Jenna rolled her eyes at the too-familiar name.

Jake held the door open for her. “According to Maria, he’s claiming Boyd Calloway hired him personally. Apparently, he took one look at the evidence and dismissed it as Donna cleaning up from some earlier accident.”

Jenna shook her head as they walked through the lobby. “Convenient theory.”

“Too convenient,” Jake agreed. “But it’s hard to argue with. And if the mayor signed off on this...”

Mayor Claire Simmons’s office door was open when they arrived, the woman herself behind her desk reviewing documents. She glanced up as they entered, mild annoyance in her expression.

“Sheriff Graves, Deputy Hawkins,” she acknowledged, setting her pen down. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Jenna didn’t bother with pleasantries. Although she and the mayor had been on good terms lately, this latest incident signaled that Claire still claimed official powers she didn’t actually have. “You authorized a private investigator to take over our crime scene?”

Claire’s perfectly manicured nails drummed once on her desk. “I authorized Mr. Bickel to examine the laundry room in the Calloway House, yes. I wouldn’t call it a ‘crime scene’ when there’s no evidence a crime was committed.”

“That’s not clear either way yet,” Jake interjected. “We just found additional blood evidence. Officer Delgado confirmed it with luminol before your PI took over.”

“And what does that prove?” Mayor Simmons leaned back in her chair. “I just heard from the super, who filled me in. People bleed, Deputy. They cut themselves, have nosebleeds, scrape knees. And there was a dog of some kind there, too.”

“With all due respect,” Jenna said, struggling to keep her voice even, “that determination should be made by law enforcement, not a hired investigator working for the property owner.”

Claire sighed and opened a drawer in her desk. “Boyd Calloway called me himself this morning. He’s understandably concerned about the impact of a prolonged police investigation on his investment.” She withdrew a folder and placed it on the desk. “The Calloway House project represents the largest private investment in downtown Trentville in decades. We can’t afford to lose it over unfounded speculation.”

“Is that what this is about?” Jenna asked. “Money?”

“It’s about balance, Sheriff. Boyd is planning to come to Trentville personally to address these issues. He’s arranging a public meeting to reassure residents and investors tomorrow morning.”

“But our investigation isn’t complete. You have no authority to cut it off.”

“Let’s be honest,” Claire said, her voice sharpening. “The only reason we’re having this conversation is because you have some sort of ... hunch.”

Jenna felt a flush of anger. Claire didn’t know about her dreams, but like many people in Trentville, she suspected Jenna of some kind of unusual sources of information.