Chapter 11

11

W ith his computer propped on the kitchen island, Calvin blinked the fatigue from his eyes. Hours had passed since he and Dean had started working. Needing sustenance, they'd relocated to the kitchen. Now a pile of dishes cluttered the counter, and his stomach was filled with pasta. The scent of garlic hung heavy in the air, and red sauce was splattered on the white subway tile behind the stove.

A half-empty bottle of beer sat in front of him. Dean hunched over his own laptop at the large farmhouse table. Swiveling on the backless stool, Calvin took a long swig of the bitter ale.

"Have you found anything in Stella's business accounts?" he asked.

Dean's eyes were barely visible above his computer screen. "Nothing unusual or suspicious. She kept good track of her books. Made a pretty decent profit. The woman you spoke with earlier was right about her two new clients. The income was a big boost, but nothing life-changing."

Calvin sighed. Something life-changing had happened—or at least life-ending. They just needed to look harder. Dig deeper. "Have you dipped into her personal accounts yet?"

Dean shook his head and took a sip of his own beer. "Not yet. Just getting started on that now."

"I got ahold of the florist. They're located two towns over, which is weird. They had records of all the deliveries made to Stella. The name given by the purchaser is bogus, and he always paid in cash. Whoever sent those flowers went through a lot of trouble to hide his identity." Calvin scratched Boo behind the ear and let all the information he'd uncovered percolate.

"That doesn't support your theory that the killer is Jenna's enemy, not Stella's. If someone wanted their identity kept secret and Stella threatened to expose their relationship, he might have decided to kill Stella before she ruined him." Dean tapped the end of a pencil against the table as he spoke.

"Questions still remain. Who was she seeing, and why did it have to be a secret?" Turning his attention back to his own computer, Calvin brought up the website of Custer and Sholl. Amy mentioned that one of the lawyers insisted Stella clean the office herself, which struck him as odd. He scanned the provided information, taking note of the two attorneys' pictures.

Stewart Custer sported a bald head and age spots on his chubby face. Deep wrinkles lined his forehead. Unless Stella wanted to keep a relationship with him hidden because she didn't want to be seen with the old man, he doubted Stewart and Stella had a secret love affair.

Milo Sholl, on the other hand, was tall, broad shouldered, and would be fully capable of slicing a woman's throat with a scalpel.

Dean stood and stretched his arms above his head. "Who's that?" he asked, nodding toward Calvin's computer screen.

"One of the lawyers from the office Stella started cleaning recently." He studied the picture. The shock of dark hair cut tight and parted on the side made the vivid blue of his eyes shine bright. His chiseled jaw and hard angles of his cheekbones made his face more square than round.

"Do we know anything more about him?" Dean asked.

"Not yet." Calvin opened another tab on his browser and typed in Milo Sholl. The search engine generated a long list of websites. He clicked on the first link, which took him to his personal Facebook page.

He scrolled down, taking in the wholesome pictures of Milo with a dark-haired beauty and two small children. Photos of Milo with a little boy on his shoulders watching a parade, the pretty woman with her arms wrapped around a chunky baby girl with a toothless grin and a bright pink bow. Another of a family with smiling faces in front of the setting sun.

"Good looking family. I'm guessing that's his wife," Dean said.

Calvin clicked on Milo's information. Married to Debbie Sholl. "Looks like they've been married for six years." Calvin hovered the cursor over Debbie Sholl's name and brought up the woman's profile.

Dean whistled. "Her profile isn't as filled with family fun."

Memes with dark shadows and obscure messages littered her feed. A few pictures of the children interrupted the cryptic posts, but no smiling photos with her husband. "That's strange. Usually, it's the woman who plasters her Facebook profile with family pictures. A timeline like this usually means trouble in paradise. Just as strange, Milo's type doesn't post nearly as much, and they usually don't have as much personal information."

"Hard to believe a lawyer doesn't have his profile set to private. Most lawyers I know keep a tight lid on their personal lives."

Calvin raised his brows. "How many lawyers do you know, and why do you know what they choose to do with their personal lives?"

A laugh boomed from Dean's wide mouth. "Trust me, you don't want to know."

Chuckling, Calvin clicked the back button. He returned to the list of websites related to Milo Sholl. An article from the local paper caught his attention, and he brought up the website for the Pine Valley Gazette. "Interesting. Looks like Milo is considering running for the county judge position next year."

"I'd say more than considering. If a local paper runs a story speculating someone is running for office, you can almost bet it's a sure thing." Dean ran the tip of his finger down the screen. "Here. Look. Comments for the article were provided by the law office. No way the guy would provide a comment if he didn't have something up his sleeve."

A beat of adrenaline pushed against Calvin's core. "If Milo Sholl started an affair with Stella, it'd be more important than ever to keep things hidden if he were running for a public office. Maybe even important enough for him to kill."

Puzzle pieces and toy trucks were scattered around Jenna's living room. She laid on her stomach on the floor next to Oliver, who kicked his little feet in the air as he searched for the spot to put letters of the alphabet on the wooden board.

Jenna scooped up the red letter H and chuckled. "You want us to find a place for the H?"

Oliver giggled and slapped his palm on the board.

"Do you want to put it on there?" Jenna asked, grinning. This was her happy place. The time when she felt the most whole. When she was with her son, getting lost in the simple pleasures of teaching him his abc's. But as content as this moment was, for the first time in a long time, something was missing.

Something—or someone—she was afraid would never be a part of these cozy family moments.

Oliver snatched the piece and placed it where it belonged, veering her mind back to him.

Pride swelled her heart, and she tickled his little side. "Good job!"

Mrs. Franklin chuckled from her spot on the couch where she had two knitting needles poised in her hands and a ball of purple yarn in her lap. "He's such a smart, sweet boy."

"I couldn't agree more." Jenna scooted up to a sitting position. "I'm grateful to have you, but don't feel like you need to stay. I don't want to keep you."

Mrs. Franklin chanced a quick look at Jenna then returned her focus to her knitting. "You've been through a lot, my dear. No need to go through it alone. I'm here for you both."

Tears stung Jenna's eyes. It'd been so long since someone looked after her. Her neighbor had become more than her reliable sitter. Mrs. Franklin was family. Family she needed now more than ever. "Thank you."

A sharp ring had Jenna jumping to her feet and heading for the kitchen, where she'd plugged in her phone. A quick glance at the screen showed Dr. Church's picture and number. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jenna. Just checking in to see how you're holding up."

Jenna backed further into the kitchen so Oliver and Mrs. Franklin couldn't hear her conversation. "I'm okay."

"Any news about your sister?"

She blew out a long sigh. "Not really. I hired a private investigator. He wonders if the person who killed Stella might have an issue with me and not Stella. But for the life of me, I can't think of someone who could hate me that much."

"I can't speak to your personal life, but everyone at the hospital loves you," Dr. Church said.

The kind words made Jenna smile. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm not sure if that's true." As much as she tried to be professional, and even kind, to all her coworkers, she'd ruffled her share of feathers. Though she couldn't recall any situations where she'd pissed someone off enough to drive them to kill.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You've done plenty just by letting me take some personal days."

"What about looking into files around here? Asking human resources if there have been any grievances made toward you that either slipped your mind or you were never made aware of."

She shoved her hand through her hair. She didn't want to believe that she could be the reason someone killed Stella. Nausea swam in her gut, mixing with the acid reflux from the pizza she'd eaten for dinner. "Sure. You'll have better luck getting into those files than me or Calvin. Something might jar loose an old memory."

"I'll be in touch. In the meantime, take care of yourself." Dr. Church disconnected the call.

Reeling from the possibility that something she'd done or said could have caused this nightmare, Jenna gripped the edge of the counter. Her mind raced, flipping through recent arguments on or off the clock that may have seemed insignificant but had been a big deal to someone else.

She couldn't recall any significant upsets in her life, personally or professionally, since losing Calvin and Stella running away. She may not believe Dr. Church's claim that everyone at the hospital loved her, but she always tried to treat everyone with respect. Most of the time she was too nice, until someone pushed her buttons or acted in a way that threatened the safety of her patients.

An ember of a memory sparked, catching flame. Her heart beat double time. She fumbled for her phone and called Calvin.

"Hey, Jenna. What's up?" Fatigue lowered the cadence of his words, but his greeting didn't have the bite she'd grown accustomed to the last two days.

"I thought of someone who might have a grudge against me." Her hand trembled as the picture in her mind became clearer.

"Who?" Doubt coated his question, as though he didn't really believe anyone other than him could hold a grudge against her. Even if the theory was his.

"A doctor I worked with right out of med school. He was reported for malpractice and was fired from the hospital. He left town. It was bad."

"What does that have to do with you?"

"I reported him." She cringed at the memory. Doctors didn't often report each other for malpractice, but in this instance, Jenna had no choice but to make sure this guy was punished for negligence.

"Oh."

She could picture the surprise in his eyes as his mouth formed a little O.

"What happened?"

Unease tightened her chest. "I'd only been at the hospital a couple months. A car accident brought in a young woman. I ordered an MRI to check for brain injuries. The neurologist on call canceled the order, stating the woman didn't need the tests. He claimed she was fine. That her insurance wouldn't cover the cost, and we weren't going to waste our time."

"What an ass," Calvin said.

She snorted. "You have no idea."

"So you canceled the order?"

The pressure in her chest increased, crushing her lungs. She hadn't thought about that poor lady in so long. "She seemed all right. Was talking and laughing, enchanting everyone with her stories. I had no reason to not follow Dr. Kent's order. I was young and eager to make a good impression on the rest of the staff." She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, but the image of the young woman's mother as she told her she didn't make it invaded her mind and forced open her eyes. "She died later that night. An MRI would have caught the brain bleed. We could have saved her."

"Oh, Jenna. That's horrible. I'm so sorry."

"Dr. Kent's refusal to complete the tests I'd ordered, especially for the reasons he gave, couldn't be overlooked. I made sure to report his actions."

"Do you know where he is now? What became of him?"

"I have no clue." A flash of movement skittered outside the living room window seconds before the doorbell rang. "Hold on a second. Someone's here." She peeked through the side window to see who'd arrived then opened the door. "Can I help you?"

"I have a delivery for this address." A fresh-faced delivery boy extended a bouquet of flowers.

Jenna accepted the bouquet. "Thanks." Turning back inside, she picked the card from the spikey prongs and read the message. "Someone sent flowers. There's a card."

"What does it say?"

"Life's Short. Cherish the ones you love before it's too late." Her gaze dropped to the name of the florist at the top of the card. Fear hitched her breath. "The card looks the same as the ones Stella saved. It has the same logo on the top."

"Jenna, you need to get out of your house. If the same person who sent Stella flowers sent those then a killer might know where you live."