The ICAC team dug in and searched the internet and contacted informants for the next couple of hours.
“I’m getting nowhere.” David stood and stretched. Pops rippled down his back. His mind drifted to Jennie’s avoidance of certain questions last night. He’d intended to visit Emily Hanover today, but the late-night call-in had thrown off his plan.
“Something about Jennie Nielson’s story isn’t sitting right with me. I’m taking a break and am heading over to chat with Mrs. Hanover. See if she has any information we can use.”
With his eyes focused on the laptop screen, Brandon waved. “Cookies would be nice if you can finagle a box.”
David laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.” Ambling from the conference room, he stepped outside and squinted at the bright June sun. He slipped on his sunglasses and soaked in the warmth before sliding into the driver’s seat and pulling away from the station.
Several minutes later, David sauntered up the rosebush-lined sidewalk to Emily Hanover’s craftsman-style home in downtown Pinewood Shores. Known by the town for her beautiful flower gardens, the older woman loved to share her oasis. She’d created a sitting area in her front yard for public use. Residents stopped by on a daily basis and rested or ate lunch on the wooden benches next to the Koi Pond and three-tiered fountain.
Rumor had it that years after she’d welcomed the good people of the sleepy town to her peaceful retreat, she’d confided in friends that the idea had helped combat the loneliness of losing her husband.
David reflected on his own loss. He understood the desire to fill the emptiness with company. Throwing himself into work and the Wednesday night pick-up basketball games at the local gym with the guys had brought him through his darkest days.
He’d moved to Pinewood Shores and joined the ICAC team three years ago. The members had become family. As draining as the work could be, he relished the successes.
People often asked him why he’d transferred to such a depressing department. What those around him didn’t understand, saving children from the clutches of those who wanted to exploit them, gave him a satisfaction homicide never had.
His mind wandered to the determined little girl he’d met yesterday. What would have happened if he hadn’t given Zoey his business card?
Standing at the entrance of Miss Emily’s house, he pushed the doorbell. Church-like chimes rang in the background.
The ornate oak door creaked open, and a sixty-something lady with gray streaks in her brown hair greeted him.
“Detective Whitman, it’s good to see you. Come on in.” She motioned to the living room.
A beautiful rock fireplace adorned the far wall. A dark green couch, floral chair, and glass coffee table invited visitors to sit and chat. He’d spent many hours in this room over the past few years, eating cookies like a five-year-old and enjoying the older woman’s company. And yet, he didn’t know much about her family other than stories of her late husband.
“Thank you, Miss Emily.” He made his way to the sofa and lowered himself to the edge of the cushion. Resting his elbows on his knees, he clasped his hands and inhaled.
The scent of baked cookies tickled his nose. Snickerdoodles if he wasn’t mistaken. His stomach complained about the lack of lunch today. Once he finished here, he’d swing by the café and grab an early dinner.
Mrs. Hanover relaxed in the easy chair next to him. “What can I do for you, young man? Did you come for a treat, or is there something else on your mind?”
He chuckled at the woman’s perceptiveness. “I’m hoping you can give me a bit of information. I met your tenant last night and would like to know a little about her background.”
“Oh, really?” The woman grinned.
Great. David hadn’t meant it to sound personal. “Not like that.”
“Like what?” She quirked an eyebrow.
“Miss Emily. Please. I’m trying to do my job here.” He could count on one hand the number of times people hadn’t bugged him about his single status. The pleasures of a tight-knit community.
Mrs. Hanover’s brow creased. “Why would you need information about Jennie?”
“Jennie and Zoey ran into a bit of trouble last night. Brandon and I went to help, but we have a concern we hope you can clear up.”
The woman’s jaw twitched, and her gaze landed on her cell phone then shifted back to him. “What happened?”
“I won’t go into detail, but Zoey texted a stranger by mistake. I’m covering all my bases to find out who and keep the mother and daughter safe.”
“What do you need to know?” Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on the arms of her chair.
His gaze drifted from her hands to her face. “How well do you know your renter?”
A soft smile curved on Emily’s lips. “I’d say I know Jennie quite well.”
