Page 54 of In Her Memory

Dr. Stark turned back to the bed, all business once more. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get my assistants to transport Mr. Calloway. We’ll have preliminary results for you by tomorrow.”

As the coroner moved toward the door, Jenna caught Jake’s eye. “We should go talk to Nolan Greer,” she said quietly. “Before he has time to think up a story.”

Baldry straightened. “Want me to come with you?”

Jenna shook her head. “Stay here, keep an eye on things. Make sure no one else finds out about the passages until we’re ready.”

She and Jake headed for the door, minds already turning to the interrogation ahead. As they made their way into the hallway, Jenna felt the familiar mix of anticipation and caution that came with confronting a suspect. Nolan Greer had access, opportunity, and knowledge of the house—all the elements needed to stage Boyd’s “accidental” death.

They reached the mansion’s grand foyer at the bottom of the stairs. Through an open doorway, Jenna could see Officer Hutson standing guard outside what must be the makeshift holding cell. As they crossed the marble floor toward the library, doubt lingered.

Had they already caught the Calloway house killer? Or was the real monster still watching them from the shadows?

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Jenna followed Jake through the library doors, where floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, interrupted only by tall windows draped with heavy brocade curtains. A massive oak desk dominated the far end of the room, its surface cluttered with architectural plans and maintenance logs—a space designed for reflection and work rather than a tense interrogation.

The Calloway House superintendent sat rigidly in an armchair near the fireplace. Officer Hutson stood by the window, maintaining a careful distance that gave Nolan no reason to feel cornered—a small courtesy Jenna appreciated.

She noted Nolan Greer’s rumpled shirt and the dark circles beneath his eyes. He hadn’t shaved, and his close-cropped hair stood at odd angles. When he spotted Jenna, his expression shifted from wariness to outright alarm.

“Officer Hutson,” Jenna said, “we’ll take it from here. Would you mind stepping outside?”

Hutson moved toward the door, giving Nolan a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he passed. “He’s been cooperative, Sheriff. No issues.”

The door clicked shut behind Hutson, leaving just the three of them in the cavernous room.

“What’s going on?” Nolan asked, voice tight with apprehension. “Officer Hutson wouldn’t tell me anything—just that Mr. Calloway is dead. Is that true?”

Jenna studied his face, looking for the telltale signs of deception—the micro-expressions that most liars couldn’t fully suppress. What she saw wasn’t guilt, but genuine confusion. She’d conducted enough interviews to recognize the difference. If this man knew why he’d been detained, he was doing a remarkable job of pretending not to.

“Mr. Greer,” she said, “where were you between 9 p.m. last night and 5 a.m. this morning?”

Nolan’s eyes widened. “Am I a suspect?” He shook his head, the question clearly dawning on him. “You think I had something to do with Mr. Calloway’s death?”

“Just answer the question,” Jake told him.

Nolan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I quit my job here last night,” he said. “I left when Mr. Calloway arrived.” He glanced between them, clearly searching for some hint of their thinking. “Sheriff, you told him about those letters to the Trentville Weekly News, didn’t you? The ones calling the condo project a desecration?”

Jenna kept her expression neutral. “I told him what I knew.”

“I figured as much,” Nolan sighed. “That’s why I quit—to save myself the embarrassment of being fired. Mr. Calloway wasn’t exactly known for forgiveness.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have written those letters, but I wasn’t wrong. This place was built on the backs of miners who—”

“Where did you go after you left here?” Jake interrupted, pen poised over his notepad.

“I went straight to the Centaur’s Den,” Nolan replied. “Drank way more than I should have. Told everybody what I thought of this whole Calloway House project.” He grimaced at the memory. “I know, not my finest moment. But it was a lot to process—my job, my beliefs, all of it.”

Jenna watched him carefully. “What time did you leave?”

“Aaron Hopper—the owner—cut me off around 1:30 in the morning,” Nolan said. “Smart move—I would have tried to drive if he hadn’t. Aaron walked me over to the Trentville Inn. Said I could sleep it off there and pick up my car in the morning.” He straightened, looking Jenna directly in the eye. “Check with Aaron. Check with the inn. They’ll confirm it all.”

Jake stepped back, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call the station to have someone check,” he said, moving toward the door. “Excuse me a moment. I’ll be right back.”

After Jake stepped out, Jenna continued. “And you’re sure Mr. Calloway was alive when you left?”

"Very much so," Nolan replied emphatically. "He arrived just after nine. Came straight to my apartment, to fire me, I was sure. But I was already packed to leave. We had words. Then I left." He added with a shrug, "I only came back just now to pick up a few things I'd left in my apartment. I had no idea …"

The door opened, and Jake returned, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "We're verifying your story," he said.