Jenna considered the question, sorting through her impressions of the interview.“I don’t know,” she admitted.“He’s got motive and no alibi.And he’s not exactly broken up about Derek’s death.”
“But?”Jake prompted, sensing her hesitation.
“But something feels off.His openness about wanting Derek dead, his willingness to be suspected.”She shook her head as they reached the car.“It’s either the perfect cover—hiding in plain sight—or he really didn’t do it.He does seem to believe that it was Derek who keyed his car, but he could just be getting a kick out of being suspected.And the yarn—that doesn’t seem like the sort of thing he would do.”
“Either way, we don’t actually have enough to bring him in,” Jake concluded, unlocking the doors.
Jenna’s phone rang, interrupting her train of thought.The caller ID showed Davis, one of her officers.She accepted the call, putting it on speaker.“Davis, what have you got for me?”
“Sheriff, I’ve been checking with the craft and fabric stores like you asked,” Davis’s voice came through, slightly tinny on the car’s speakers.“The second place I hit, Craft Corner on Elm, says they had an unusual purchase last week.David Ellington bought what the clerk called ‘an enormous amount’ of yarn.”
Jenna exchanged a quick look with Jake, both recognizing the significance.“What color, Davis?”
“All kinds of colors, definitely including red,” he replied.“Said Ellington told her it was for a ‘community tapestry’ project.”
A new piece of the puzzle clicked into place.David Ellington—the local eccentric artist known for his unpredictable public installations and private, reclusive nature.
“Good work, Davis,” Jenna said.“Keep checking the other stores, but this is a solid lead.”
She ended the call and looked at Jake.“Ellington’s place?”
Jake nodded, starting the engine.“Could be nothing.The man’s an artist, after all.”
“An artist who suddenly needed enough yarn to wrap a body,” Jenna countered.“It’s worth a conversation, at the very least.”
As Jake pulled away from Roger’s shop and headed toward the outskirts of town where Ellington lived, Jenna found herself thinking of Piper’s words again.Red is for rage.
CHAPTER NINE
As they approached the outskirts of Trentville, Jenna stared out the passenger window, her mind replaying the conversation with Roger Dixon.His cavalier attitude about Derek’s death had left her uneasy.Was his open hostility just the swagger of a man with something to prove, or based on something darker?
Or was she just overthinking it?She thought that the man they were about to visit, David Ellington, might present a different kind of puzzle entirely.
“We’ve still got about fifteen minutes before we get to Ellington’s place,” Jake said, slowing for a deer that bounded across the narrow country road before disappearing into the woods.“Enough time for you to check in at home if you want.”
Jenna nodded, already reaching for her phone.“I should.I haven’t spoken to Mom or Piper since I left this morning.”
She hadn’t wanted to leave so soon after bringing Piper home, but murder investigations waited for no one.
Her mother answered the phone call.“Jenna?Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine, Mom.I’m just checking in.How’s Piper doing?”
Her mother exhaled audibly.“She’s...adjusting.We’ve been looking through old photo albums.I think it helps her remember, seeing the pictures.”
“That’s good.”Jenna watched the landscape roll by—farmhouses set back from the road, fields dotted with hay bales.“Has she remembered anything more about...before?”
“Not exactly,” her mother finally said.“She remembers bits and pieces of growing up here, but there’s still a gap around the time she left.”
“The doctor said it might take time, that memories sometimes return in fragments.”Jenna closed her eyes briefly.“Has she had any more...episodes?Like the one this morning?”
“No, nothing like that.And Frank’s here now.He brought over a casserole and has been telling Piper stories about when you two were little.She likes hearing them, even if she doesn’t remember all of it herself.Do you want to talk to him?”
“Yes, put him on, please.”
There was a rustling sound, muted voices, and then Frank’s familiar gruff tone filled the line.
“Jenna Marie, how’s the investigation coming along?”
