Page 16

The door to Harvest Haven swung open, and Jenna stepped across the threshold with Jake close at her heels. The familiar, comforting scent of organic produce mingling with the yeasty promise of freshly-baked bread did little to ease her concerns.

“Graves, Hawkins,” Officer Mike Donovan greeted them. His kind eyes, typically crinkled at the corners, were serious now. The quality that Jenna most admired in this stocky policeman was his steadfastness. He was someone she could rely on.

“Mike,” Jenna acknowledged him, her gaze scanning the interior of Harvest Haven, “what’s going on?”

“Come on in,” Donovan said, his voice low and urgent as he ushered them among tables where the Green Gaia Guardians would often convene. “Got someone who needs to talk to you.” They stopped at a secluded corner where a woman stood, her presence like a discordant note among the harmonious earth tones of the restaurant.

“Sheriff, Deputy, this is Sage Willow,” Donovan introduced her.

Sage was indeed a willowy figure with dreadlocks cascading over her shoulders, adorned with an eclectic array of piercings that glittered under the warm light. The vibrant colors of her Harvest Haven t-shirt were dulled by the crumples that gathered in its fabric. She seemed misplaced in time, a spirit of the sixties trapped in the digital age.

Jenna noted the redness rimming Sage’s eyes, the sign of distress. “Ms. Willow,” she said. “What can we help you with?”

“Sage here is Lily’s assistant,” Donovan explained. “She’s the one who first noticed something was off.”

Jenna watched as Sage’s fingers twisted together. Her voice, when it came, wavered like a reed in the wind. “Lily was acting weird all morning.”

“How do you mean?” Jenna prompted.

“She kept checking her phone, jumping every time it buzzed.” Sage continued. “Then, about an hour ago, she just... left.”

“Left?”

“Didn’t say where she was going, didn’t take her usual bag.” Sage’s eyes searched Jenna’s. “After a while, I tried calling her cell, but she didn’t pick up. I know that might not sound like any big deal, but it’s not like her at all.”

A skipped routine, a hurried departure, unanswered calls - Jenna realized that such things might fit into her own worst fears, or they could prove to be unimportant. She asked, “Did Lily mention anything about what she was working on? Any names or places?”

Sage shook her head, her cascade of dreadlocks whispering against her shoulders. Then, as if an afterthought had snagged her, she paused, her gaze distant. “Well, she did mutter something about ‘corrupt officials’ and ‘the truth coming out.’” A frown creased her brow. “But that’s not unusual for Lily, you know? “

Jenna nodded. Lily Cummings’ penchant for conspiracy was well known throughout Trentville. In Jenna’s line of work, she’d found that such phrases could be either the raving of paranoia or hints leading to secrets she needed to know. Nevertheless, the mention of corrupt officials tightened her own interest—especially after her cryptic conversation with Ethan Holbrook, and his question about whether Lily had spoken to her about Clyde’s rumored investigation.

“Thank you, Sage,” Jenna said, giving the young woman a reassuring nod. “That could be important.”

At that moment, Jake pulled out his phone. “I’ll try calling her again.” The deputy’s voice carried concern that Jenna knew mirrored her own. After a moment, he pocketed his phone and said, “I’m not getting her either.”

“Sage, we need to see Lily’s office. Now.” Jenna’s tone brokered no argument, yet it was met with hesitation.

Sage bit her lip. “I don’t know...” There was a quiver in her voice, a tremble of reluctance. “Lily’s pretty protective of her space. She doesn’t trust cops poking around.”

“Listen,” Jenna’s tone softened to convey empathy rather than authority. “I understand your concern. I could get a warrant, but right now, Lily’s safety is what matters most, and we may need to move fast.” Jenna held Sage’s gaze, willing her to see the sincerity behind the shield. “Besides, Lily took us up to her office yesterday. She didn’t seem too worried about it then.”

“Okay.” The word was a whisper, but Jenna caught the change in Sage’s posture, the reluctant acceptance of urgency over loyalty. She added, “Follow me, then.” Jenna, Jake, and Donovan moved quickly toward the back of Harvest Haven, then climbed the narrow staircase to Lily’s office, the wooden steps creaking under their weight.

The office looked unchanged since yesterday. Protest posters shouted from the walls, slogans calling for action and change. The cork board with its red strings and thumbtacks was much like the one in Jenna’s own office. The disarray of papers and personal effects on the desk looked much the same. But today, a half-drunk cup of herbal tea sat forgotten, and a pen lay uncapped and bleeding ink onto a notepad—a freeze-frame of disruption, a moment captured before flight.

Jenna’s hand hovered above the mess, resisting the urge to sift through the documents. She respected Lily’s privacy, but the necessity of finding some clue as to where she’d gone took precedence.

“Anything?” Jake’s voice cut through her focus, but Jenna only shook her head. There had to be something here, some clue that would lead them to Lily, but it was hidden among the detritus of daily life and fervent activism.

There, amidst the chaos of advocacy flyers and recycled paper stacks, one document halted Jenna’s roving eyes—a flow chart of Genesius County officials that seemed to pulse with accusation. Gently, she extracted it from the papers covering part of it.

“EVERYTHING POINTS TO HIM!!!!”

The words screamed from the page in desperate capitals, underlining the gravity of what they might mean. One name was circled repeatedly as if to emphasize his central role. Arrows converged on him from every direction, each line a silent indictment. It was clear that Lily had found something big—perhaps something worth fearing.

“Jake, look at this name. Garth Fields.”

“He’s a zoning official, isn’t he?” Jake asked. “The one that I’ve heard might be flexible with the rules?”

“I know him a little—can’t say I like him,” Donovan said. “He always struck me as kind of fishy, and there were rumors that he wasn’t exactly on the up-and-up.”

“He could be involved in this,” Jake mused aloud.

“Let’s head over to his office at the County Courthouse,” Jenna said. “It’s our best lead right now.” Turning to Donovan, she said, “Mike, I need you to stay here. Keep trying Lily’s phone, and let me know the second you hear anything—either from her or about her.”

“You got it, Sheriff,” was Donovan’s reply.

She gave him a tight-lipped smile, her version of thanks, before turning on her heel and hurrying down the narrow stairs to the main floor, through the restaurant, and out the front door. The gravel outside Harvest Haven crunched like brittle bones under Jenna and Jake’s synchronized steps as they made their way back to their cruiser.

As they sped towards the County Courthouse, Jenna’s mind raced, remembering her own fleeting encounters with Garth Fields. He’d always struck her as surly and resentful, as if he felt underpaid and unappreciated in his work. He’d also struck her as not particularly bright. Could he be their killer? Or was he just a minor piece in this increasingly complex puzzle? What had Lily’s research told her about him?

The cruiser skidded to a stop in front of the courthouse, its imposing brick facade a symbol of law and order. Jenna and Jake burst from the car and dashed through the wide front doors.

Inside, the County Courthouse seemed oblivious to the turmoil. Its marble floors gleamed under fluorescent lights, their cold sheen reflecting the pair’s hastened strides. Echoes bounced off the high ceilings, imparting an eerie sense of desolation to the space that was actually a hub of constant activity.

“Excuse me,” Jenna called out to the receptionist on duty. The woman, her hair a halo of frazzled grays and browns, glanced up with an expression of unconcern.

“We need to speak with Garth Fields,” Jenna stated, her words clipped and direct.

The woman behind the desk met Jenna’s gaze, her eyes still weary. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. Mr. Fields called in this morning. Said he’d be working from home today.”

“We need his address,” Jake demanded, and the receptionist jotted it down and handed it over without question.

Jenna and Jake turned in unison, thanking the receptionist, who offered a helpless shrug in return.

The cruiser slowed to a crawl as Jenna eyed the little house that belonged to Garth Fields, its dingy windows seeming to squint back at her through overgrown shrubbery. It was an island of decay in a neighborhood where most of the lawns seemed to compete for the title of most meticulously manicured.

Jenna stepped up to the front door and rapped sharply against the wood. “Mr. Fields? This is Sheriff Graves. We need to speak with you.” Her sharp knock was an announcement, a statement of intent that she was here on more than a courtesy call.

Silence greeted them, broken only by the distant hum of a lawnmower and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

“Mr. Fields?” Jenna called again, this time her voice taking on an edge that demanded acknowledgment. She thumped the door harder, the sound resonating through the still air. “We know you’re in there. Answer the door.”

Then came the groan of hinges protesting after too many seasons without care, and Garth Fields appeared, a tall shape momentarily eclipsing the dim light of the interior. He was a sturdy-looking man, his broad frame filling the doorway. His dark hair was unkempt, his face marked with deep lines showing years of hardship and labor.

“Sheriff?” His voice was rough, his rheumy eyes flickered between Jenna and Jake with the wariness of a cornered animal. “What’s this about?”

The sight of him and the way he stood blocking the entrance sent a spike of adrenaline through Jenna’s veins. This was no innocent man surprised by an unexpected visit from the law. No, she could see that Garth Fields was afraid.

“Mr. Fields,” she informed him, “we’re looking for Lily Cummings. Have you seen or heard from her recently?”

Fields’ complexion drained to a chalky hue. His voice hitched as he stammered a response. “Lily? No, I... I barely know her. Why would you ask me about her?”

He was an open book to Jenna, the too-quick denial, the involuntary glance over his shoulder — signs that he knew more than he let on.

Jake, picking up on Jenna’s silent cues, stepped forward with a reassuring presence. “Mr. Fields,” he said, “we have reason to believe Ms. Cummings might be in danger. If you know anything at all about her, it’s crucial that you tell us right now.”

Fields’ gaze sharpened, his posture stiffening. The hint of defiance in his voice clashed with his nervous behavior. “I don’t know anything. And I don’t appreciate being interrogated on my own doorstep. If you don’t have a warrant—”

“Mr. Fields,” Jenna pressed, not allowing him the comfort of retreat, “this is serious. Every minute counts here, and your cooperation could make a big difference.”

A sudden noise from somewhere within the house sliced through Garth Fields’ protests—a clattering bang of wood against wood. Jenna’s sharp gaze fixated on Garth’s face, catching the briefest flicker of guilt before it was replaced by wide-eyed panic.

“Mr. Fields,” she said, her voice carrying the authority that came with her badge, “we’re going to need to come inside and—” She didn’t get to finish the sentence.

Without warning, Fields erupted into motion, his body surging forward with unexpected vigor. He barreled between Jenna and Jake, his shoulder slamming against Jake with enough force to send him staggering.

“Jake, after him!” Jenna cried. As Jake charged after the fleeing man, she stepped inside the house. Her hand acted of its own accord, moving to her holster and drawing her weapon.

In the dim living room, she pivoted, scanning the surroundings, each step deliberate, her senses heightened to every creak and whisper of the old structure. The smell of dust and despair was pervasive, creeping into her nostrils and coating her throat.

As her eyes adjusted to the contrast from the bright day outside, she could see that the room was a minefield of clutter – stacks of newspapers, dirty dishes creating an atlas of mold patterns, and knick-knacks coated in grime. Each object seemed a testament to Garth Fields’ unraveling life.

Her weapon steady in her grasp, Jenna moved quietly, ears straining for any sound that might reveal Lily Cummings’ fate or any more dangerous presence. Jenna couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, though she knew Jake was outside, chasing Fields down. But there had been that noise from somewhere in here. Why was it so silent now?