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“Seems like a lot goes on not many people know about.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe it’s all above board, or maybe it isn’t.”
“You want transparency in leadership. What a novel concept.” Kenna found a burrito in her container and wrapped a napkin around the bottom end. She got up and held out a hand for the other container. “Forrest?”
Paulette nodded, wincing slightly. “She asked me not to let you in.”
“But you’re taking that to her.”
Nod.
“And she’s all right?”
“Just not so happy with private investigators in general right now. Apparently she’d rather have a friend.”
Kenna slumped back into her chair and bit her burrito. Instead of sticking by Forrest here, she’d galivanted across Wisconsin.
While she ate, she scanned the papers on the table and processed everything Gingrich had said. Paulette came back through, no container. She gave Kenna a little nod, which she took to mean that Forrest was all right.
But she didn’t need anything from Kenna.
Just freedom Kenna might have been able to offer her, by working tirelessly on finding evidence. Instead, from Forrest’s perspective, Kenna had left.
Weneed a way to find Stan Tilley.
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “No one has seen the car that nearly ran me over, right?”
Jax shook his head.
Kobrinsky said, “Is that why the hospital called to say a female patient jumped out of an ambulance and ran across the parking lot like a crazy woman before taking off in the sheriff’s truck?”
“Probably.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose. “And the marshals left with their prisoner?”
“That’s why the lawyer’s chopper came and went?” Kobrinsky glanced around.
Gingrich nodded.
“I miss all the good stuff.”
“Like severed heads?” Kenna said.
Gingrich barked a laugh.
Kobrinsky didn’t seem to think it was all that funny. He glanced at his boss. “How did Rayland die again?”
Now there was an interesting statement. The tone he used to ask the question suggested it was something that had been bothering him. Kenna turned in her chair, expecting the sheriff to at least defend himself. Brush off the accusation.
“I didn’t kill him, and it wasn’t an accident.” The sheriff took a bite of his sandwich.
Jax dug his fork into his salad and speared a big piece of steak, watching the interplay like it was a new sitcom that had recently become popular.
“So what was he doused with, and did it match the substance Pastor Bruce was killed with?” Kenna had no idea if the coroner was done, or if tests had been run. She looked at Kobrinsky. “Can you ask the coroner?”
“Maybe on Friday night.” He winked.
Kenna chuckled.
“I’ll make the call.” Gingrich moved to the corner of the room, the phone to his ear.
Kobrinsky motioned to the pictures. “So what do the pros think Jennifer Rayland’s connection is to J.Pierce? There has to be a connection between them since the doc has these photos.”