Kenna frowned. “Following?”
The woman nodded. “Did you know there is a true crime podcast that’s going through all your old cases? It’s fascinating!”
From behind her, Zeyla said, “We are aware.”
Yeah, that tone said enough. Kenna felt the same way about the guy who was recounting every single thing she’d ever investigated as if he was some kind of expert on her. As far as she knew, Kenna had never even met the guy.
“We should be going.” She glanced at Jax. “We have what we came for, and we may have been exposed.”
“What does that mean?” The woman glanced between them. “Are you investigating Shawn’s death?”
“Ma’am, this is a case,” Kenna said. “We aren’t at liberty to give out the details of our investigation.”
The woman frowned. “That’s what your husband said. But if I could just get my phone and record a video, everyone on Instagram will?—”
Kenna held up her hand. “I’m sorry, you aren’t going to be recording us. A man is dead.”
“I know that! I live on the street, don’t I?”
Kenna wasn’t sure how she was supposed to have known that.
The woman continued, “If you need to know anything about Shawn Terrance.” She brushed her hair back from her face, and the Chihuahua strained the leash, sniffing at the edge of the grass. “You could interview me.” She squared her shoulders.
Jax pulled a business card from his wallet. “I’m afraid we don’t have time for that right now, but you can always shoot us an email if you think of anything.”
The woman probably didn’t notice that he hadn’t offered for her to call. If she did, she could leave a voicemail and tell them what she knew.
“We really should be going.” Kenna glanced down the street, looking both ways. Just in case someone showed up for the flashdrive and its port. Maizie had both tucked away in her backpack, but if someone on the other end of that security camera was on their way here to retrieve it, she didn’t want them to be found standing on the front doorstep.
Jax handed her the keys. “You and Maizie get to the car.”
The woman looked disappointed.
Kenna said, “It was nice talking with you. You should return to your home now, just in case.”
She brightened up a little. “Is something going to happen? Is there going to be danger?” Her smile faltered, and she looked down at Kenna’s baby bump.
“I’ll be in the car.” Kenna set off down the front walk.
Maizie came with her, sticking close enough she could whisper, “Why does it seem like everyone is interested in us? Stuff like that happens every time we run into people.”
Kenna smiled at her. “The president made us famous, whether we like it or not. People are interested in what seems exciting and different from their own lives. I just want to figure out who this true crime podcaster is so we can tell him to quit going over every detail of my life.”
She hit the unlock button for the low-slung Mercedes at the curb, opened the front passenger’s door, and slid in.
Maizie climbed in the back, shifting across to the left side so they could look at each other and so Zeyla could get in without going around. “Being famous is not so bad. At least I’m not famous for real things that have happened to me. It’s all just the president’s stuff.”
“You’re not worried about when the true crime podcaster gets to the case where I found you?” She shifted in the seat so she could look at Maizie and, thus, caught the look on her face. “Zeyla will take this case. You don’t need to do anything to try and find Shawn Terrance’s killer. If you want to just focus onfinding the podcaster before he connects the dots on who you really are, we can do that. It’s important.”
Maizie shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I need to do normal things where I don’t feel like I have to hide who I was. Where I can be who I am now.”
Kenna understood that better than most. Her own life had a series of dividing lines between who she had been and who she became after a traumatic event, or a massive shift in her situation. But she had tried to feel normal weeks ago, on the East Coast, and they had still wound up tangled up withDominatus.
When Shawn’s sister called, Kenna had accepted the case because of the grief in the woman’s voice. Because Kenna knew loss in a way a lot of people didn’t. She wasn’t going to be who the president seemed to need her to be. Probably for her own agenda. Kenna would rather do what she could to help people.
Like finding out who had killed a software developer.
Balancing her life, being who she was now, like Maizie had said. Doing what she could to help one person, or one family, at a time.
