Sloane saved the Facebook threads to her case files and closed her laptop. "Let's do it. Hell, I could use a donut or a cupcake or something."
“Well, which one?” Kate asked.
“I have tochoose?”
“I suppose not,” Kate said with a smile. “I’d never force someone to make such a choice.”
They gathered their things quickly and Kate found herself delighted when Sloane laughed at that brief, insignificant exchange. Kate sent a text to Allen letting him know she would be later than expected, that a lead had come up and she needed to follow it. He responded almost immediately with a simple thumbs up and a reminder to be careful.
They walked out of the field office together, heading for the parking garage where their cars waited. The afternoon sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the pavement. In other words, another day was coming to an end and there was still a killer out there. It was a feeling Kate had always hated and had nearly hidden with her newfound consultation gig. But now it was back, haunting her as usual, and she didn’t intend to let it hang around for long.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Grisham's Bakery sat on a quiet corner in a modest strip of shops about fifteen minutes from the center of Richmond. The storefront had a cheerful yellow awning and large windows that displayed hand-painted signs advertising daily specials. Kate could see through the glass that the interior was decorated with pastel colors and vintage baking equipment mounted on the walls as decoration. Small round tables with mismatched chairs filled the seating area, and a long display case ran along the left wall.
When Kate and Sloane walked in, a bell chimed above the door. The smell of sugar and butter hung in the air, though the bakery was clearly past its busy morning rush. Only one customer sat at a corner table, an elderly woman nursing a cup of coffee while reading a paperback novel.
Behind the display case, a woman in her late thirties was wiping down the glass with methodical strokes. She had blonde hair pulled back in a practical ponytail and wore a white apron over jeans and a pink t-shirt. She looked up when they entered, her expression shifting from neutral to wary.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
Kate pulled out her credentials. "Jennifer Grisham? I'm Agent Kate Wise with the FBI. This is Agent Sloane. We'd like to ask you a few questions."
Jennifer set down her cleaning cloth and studied them for a moment. "This is about those murders, isn't it? The Second Act Success women."
"Yes," Kate said. "We're speaking with several people connected to the program, hoping to find some answers."
"Because of my Facebook comments, yeah?" Jennifer's tone was flat, resigned. "I figured someone would show up eventually."
Sloane stepped forward. "You posted some pretty harsh criticism of the program and its graduates. Can you tell us about that?"
Jennifer sighed and glanced toward her lone customer, who seemed absorbed in her book. She didn’t bicker or argue, but she still didn’t look too happy to be revisiting that part of her life. "Look, I was frustrated when I wrote those posts. I'd had my first month with a financial loss, and seeing those women getting all this attention and success while I was barely keeping my doors open just got to me. I said some things I probably shouldn't have. After I was kicked out of the group, I emailed the administrator to apologize but I never heard anything back.”
"You suggested the program was rigged," Sloane said. "That Crawford was playing favorites."
"Well, it felt that way at the time." Jennifer picked up her cloth again, folding it with precise movements. "But honestly? I've heard about what happened to those women. It's terrible. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, no matter how bitter I was about their success."
Kate noticed that Jennifer seemed more bothered by the questioning itself than by the fact that two women had been murdered. There was a defensive edge to her posture, but not the kind of nervous tension Kate would expect from someone who felt genuine fear or remorse.
"So did you get no attention or promotion at all?" Sloane asked.
Jennifer's jaw tightened; it was the first true sign of distress she’d shown since the agents had arrived. "At first, I got a lot of it. I was the main event for a week or two. But then, out of nowhere, Crawford said my business plan wasn't focusedenough. He wanted me to specialize more, to find a niche market instead of trying to do custom cakes, cookies, pastries, everything. But that's how bakeries work. You have to offer variety or people go somewhere else."
"And you disagreed with that assessment," Kate said.
"Of course I disagreed. I've been running this place for eight years. I know what my customers want." Jennifer gestured around the bakery, her expression shifting from defensive to proud. "You know, since you're here, let me show you what I've built. Maybe then you'll understand why Crawford's advice didn't make sense for my business."
Before Kate could redirect the conversation, Jennifer had already moved out from behind the counter. "This display case is original to the building, from the 1950s. I had it completely refurbished when I took over the lease. And these tables? I found them at estate sales and refinished them myself. Each one is unique."
Sloane shot Kate a look that clearly saidis this really happening?Kate gave a slight shake of her head, deciding to let Jennifer talk. Sometimes people revealed more when they were comfortable and off guard.
Jennifer led them past the seating area to a doorway that opened into the kitchen. "This is where the magic happens. Commercial ovens, all top of the line. I saved for three years to afford this setup. And I do all the baking myself… along with a few employees, of course. Every cake, every cookie, every pastry. I don't use mixes or shortcuts. Everything is from scratch."
The kitchen was spotless, stainless steel surfaces gleaming under bright overhead lights. Cooling racks lined one wall, currently empty. A large mixer sat on a counter, its bowl cleaned and ready for the next batch.
"I get up at four every morning to start the baking," Jennifer continued. "By the time we open at seven, I've got freshcroissants, muffins, danish, you name it. The custom cake orders keep me busy too. I did three wedding cakes last month alone."
"That's impressive," Kate said, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "But I'd like to return to the question of the program. When you posted those comments about the graduates—"
