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“You absolutely should.” Kenna smiled. “Give these guys a run for their money.”
Paulette smiled back.
“They won’t know what hit them,” Kenna added.
Having Paulette as the sheriff could be a terrible eventuality that wouldn’t do the county any favors. Alternatively, it could be the best thing that ever happened to the people wholived around here. Paulette could run on the ineptitude of the longstanding administration. Create a whole lot of division in town. Point out that having Kobrinksy in charge would be nothing but more of the same.
Paulette eyed her. “Unlessyou’replanning on putting your name on the ballot?” Suspicion raced across her face like a mouse running across the room to hide.
“Don’t worry. I’m not sure I qualify, even if I was a resident of the county.” Kenna knocked on the counter. “But if you need any tips, hit me up.”
Paulette said, “Coffee?”
“I would love some.” Kenna trailed down the hall with a smile on her face. When she found Kobrinsky at his desk in the open bull pen area, he did a double take.
“What’s up with you?” He chuckled. “Everything is nuts, there’s a mountain of work, and you’re smiling?”
Kenna tugged out a chair at an empty desk and sat. “It’s a new day. Things are changing.” The fear seemed smaller when she got to banter with acquaintances. When the people she cared about weren’t in danger. When the cases she was working had leads, not just a bunch of evidence that made no sense. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
He eyed her. “The case file is open on my computer. Don’t go messing with my stuff.”
Kenna raised both hands. “You’re the boss.”
“Are you sure youdon’thave a concussion?” Kobrinsky settled his crutches under his arms. “No more bodies. No incidents. No surprises. No traps. Two hours. That’s all I ask. Got it?”
A distant buzz cut off her response.
Paulette said something Kenna couldn’t make out, then a young woman—she couldn’t be more than eighteen—raced down the hall in white sneakers. She wore an overcoat overher diner uniform, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looked scared out of her mind.
He stepped away from his office door. “What is it, Loretta?”
“The pastor. He had a seizure in the diner just now. Beryl called for an ambulance, but he’s gone.” Tears rolled down her face. “He died on the floor.”
Chapter Fifteen
The faint sound of snoring wasn’t Marion. Kenna passed her cell and peered in the one at the end, where she spotted a man on the cot fast asleep. His belly distended with each inhale, and the smell of each exhale permeated the air around him with a musty tang. Kenna’s nose wrinkled.
“That’s Lance. He’s the town drunk,” Marion said. “Been there since yesterday and probably won’t wake up until tonight. Then it’ll be time to go out and do it all again.”
Kenna stood by the bars, about a foot back. She wanted to lean against the wall, but coming across as relaxed wouldn’t do the conversation any favors. Not to mention the fact she wasn’t interested in a rapport with Marion even if it might help.
Bruce was dead.
Pastor Bruce, who’d written that note and put it on Forrest’s door. Who had information about her family’s deaths, and had provided her with that case number—her next job. She’d wanted to go to the scene, but Kobrinsky called in relief for that. Kenna might have solved a lot of mysteries, butbeing here in this part of Wisconsin felt like being pulled in fifty different directions.
Where she was—and where she wanted to be.
Who she was with—and who she’d rather be with.
No. You’ll get hurt again.
She needed to talk to Jax.
“Just gonna stand there and stare at me?” Marion said, her expression stone-cold.
Kenna shrugged. “Maybe you’ll break and confess to something else.”
The former school librarian sat straight on the cot in profile staring at the wall to Kenna’s left. No wonder no one had suspected her. The woman could hide all the malice and evil under the surface, stuffed so far down no one ever found the truth in her. Like the girl she’d hidden in her closet—and all the ones before that.