Page 5

Jenna and Jake retraced their steps to the crime scene and then beyond. They crossed a smaller pasture where cattle had clustered on the far side, looking a bit nervous at the commotion they could hear. Then the house materialized from behind a group of trees, a modest building showing no sign of the turmoil that had invaded its serenity.

Jenna took in the neat yard, the white-painted house, the porch swing moving gently in the breeze, as if unaffected by the violence that had stained the land so close by. The porch creaked under her boots, a subtle reminder of the enduring history etched into the Hartleys’ farmhouse.

The screen door swung open before they could knock, revealing Rex Hartley, his posture as rigid as the aged timbers supporting the roof overhang. His expression was a landscape of sorrow and concern, weathered by years of sun and strain.

“Sheriff,” he greeted, offering a curt nod to Jenna and a glance towards Jake. “Deputy. Wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”

Jenna met his gaze squarely, noting how the lines on his face seemed to deepen with the gravity of the situation. Beside him, Adele Hartley hovered, wringing her hands in a dish towel, eyes wide with shock that hadn’t yet found its voice.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hartley,” Jenna began, tipping her hat out of respect for their plight and the inevitability of the questions she had come to ask. “We’d appreciate it if we could talk to you about … what happened.”

The Hartleys’ weary nods acknowledged that the sanctuary they’d known had been forever breached.

“Would it be alright if we talked inside?” she asked, gesturing into the house. Although they had been strangers until today, empathy laced her voice; she knew that this family could well be unwitting characters in a narrative that had thrust them into the harsh glare of suspicion.

The Hartleys stepped aside, granting passage into the heart of their home—into the sort of intimate space where the personal meets the professional in an investigation. Jenna took off her hat as they entered, and Jake did the same.

With each step across the threshold, Jenna felt the presence of the unseen, the unspoken truths that hung in the air like dust motes in sunlight. The warmth of the interior provided no solace from the chilling task. She could sense Jake’s supportive presence just behind her, ready to tread the delicate balance between interrogation and understanding.

As they entered the living room from the dimly-lit hallway, the space was revealed to be plain but comfortably decorated. The walls were adorned with an array of family photos, capturing memories and milestones frozen in time. The furniture was arranged in a cozy cluster, all facing towards a large television at the center of the room. A wide fireplace on one side indicated that even winter nights would be cozy here. It seemed to be a warm and inviting space.

“Would anyone like coffee? Or tea?” Adele asked.

When Jenna and Jake declined, Adele silently invited Jake and Jenna to sit down and make themselves comfortable. Then Adele took a seat, and so did her husband. She and her husband exchanged a solemn glance before the tale of their disrupted peace unfolded.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hartley,” Jenna began, not without empathy, “I’m sorry to have to ask this, but where were you last night?”

Adele looked to her husband, seeking silent reassurance as Rex’s furrowed brow betrayed the weight of the inquiry. “We were here at home, Sheriff,” he answered. “Just the two of us. Adele wasn’t feeling well, so we turned in early.”

Jenna nodded, her mind ticking over the details. It was hardly an alibi, but something in Rex’s steady gaze told her he wasn’t their man. There were lines that even a hardened rancher wouldn’t cross, and murder was one of those lines. In any case, it seemed unlikely that any rancher would commit an act like the one they had just reviewed on their own property, certainly not so close to their home.

Jenna studied Rex Hartley, seeking any other information in the lines of his face—those marked by sun and sorrow. “Can you tell me about your relationship with Clyde Simmons?” she asked, her voice probing.

Rex exhaled a burdened sigh, his hands betraying years of labor as one found its way through his thinning hair. “Like most ranchers around here, it was... strained,” he admitted. His gaze drifted past Jenna, to a place of recollection painted with discomfort. “Clyde could be difficult, especially lately. Ever since his wife left him a few months back, he’d been... different.” There was an edge to his voice, a hint of something unresolved that lingered like a bad taste.

Jenna noted the veiled pain, mindful of the man’s struggle to deal with all these events.

Adele leaned forward, her presence gentle but her words laced with concern. “There were rumors he’d started drinking,” she said. Her eyes sought Jenna’s, imploring her to understand the full picture. “Rex thought he smelled liquor on Clyde’s breath during inspections.”

“Was there a specific issue that came up between you during his last visit?” Jake asked.

Rex’s dark eyebrows furrowed in a mix of frustration and reluctance as he nodded. “He demanded that three of my prized cattle be put down, accusing them of being diseased.” His voice carried a hint of anger and disbelief. “I tried to question his judgment, but...” He trailed off, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he left the sentence unfinished, the weight of their adversary’s power and influence hanging heavily in the air between them.

“Was this a common occurrence?” Jake’s voice pulled the rancher’s attention back to the matter at hand. He was hunched over his notepad, the furrow in his brow mirroring Jenna’s own concern. “Making decisions that a rancher would have reason to question?”

Rex hesitated again. It was clearly a topic he was reluctant to discuss, and when he spoke, his voice suggested there was much he’d left unsaid. “More than you’d think, I guess. Several others had run-ins with Clyde over their cattle.”

Jenna felt the faint stir of intuition within her. She absorbed the information silently, connecting dots that formed a grim pattern across the serene backdrop of the farm. It sounded like Clyde Simmons, once an integral thread in the fabric of this community, had unraveled into a man marked by discord and strife.

In Rex, she recognized the helplessness that often came with confronting authority—a losing battle that gnawed at one’s sense of justice.

“Did any of those seem like special issues? I mean rancher’s conflicts with Clyde that stood out to you?” Jenna probed further. Her intuition whispered that understanding Clyde Simmons—the man he had become—could be a key to unveiling the perpetrator.

Rex exchanged a troubled glance with Adele before answering. “Clyde’s change didn’t go unnoticed. There were whispers, concerns. No actual threats that I know of. But folks do tend to keep their thoughts to themselves around here." His tone held a resignation born of rural realities, where privacy was both respected and expected.

“Is there anyone who might be able to tell us more about Clyde?” Jenna asked. “Any specific names?”

Rex and Adele exchanged a glance again, this one filled with a blend of reluctance and resignation. “Truth is,” Rex said slowly, the timbre of his voice reflecting the gravitas of their situation, “he seemed to be making enemies left and right these past few months. I’d guess that Clyde had alienated most folks around here, but I don’t know of anyone that stands out. The only person who really stood by him was his sister, the Mayor.”

Jenna felt the information settle, a puzzle piece clicking into place, yet somehow raising more questions. The pieces of Clyde Simmons’s life were slowly coming together, forming a picture marked with sadness and solitude. And it seemed that the only person they could talk with to find out more was Mayor Claire Simmons - a formidable presence whose sharp eyes missed nothing. The mention of her name brought a mix of anticipation and dread; after their encounter this morning, a conversation with the mayor would be fraught with tension, a clash of wills against the backdrop of anger and grief.

Jenna stood, the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders as she faced the Hartleys. Rex’s words still echoed in her ears, confirming Clyde’s isolation, his sister’s loyalty. The air in the farmhouse felt thick with unspoken thoughts and a stench of a tragedy that had crept too close to a family’s home.

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Hartley. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.” Her voice carried the professional cadence of her role, yet a faint tremor betrayed the churn of emotions within. Rex nodded, his face a mask of stoic acceptance, while Adele’s eyes were wells of concern. As they thanked the Hartleys again and made their way from the farmhouse, Jenna could feel the weariness settling in her bones.

Stepping out from under the trees into the bright summer light, Jenna let the cool breath of a faint breeze brush against her face, trying to dispel the tension that gripped her. She and Jake walked side by side in silence, leaving the Hartleys’ world behind, stepping back into their own—a realm of tireless investigation and looming questions.

They moved in silence, their steps measured as they processed all they had learned. Jenna glanced at Jake, noting the subtle tension in his jaw, the protective glint in his eye. She appreciated his support, though she kept her distance from the undercurrents of their relationship. Any attraction between them carried too many complexities with it. She was the sheriff, and he was her deputy. That alone implied lines that should never be crossed.

She turned her mind back to the case, the image of tire tracks, the Hartleys’ reluctant admissions, and the question of what Melissa and her team might yet uncover.

Jake broke the quiet, voicing the thought gnawing at both of them. “We need to talk to the Mayor again.” His words sounded stark and unavoidable.

Jenna glanced at him, seeing the same weary resolve reflected in his eyes that she felt. “We need to know more about Clyde, about possible enemies, and she’s the best one to ask about any of that.”

A conversation with Claire Simmons was never simple; the Mayor held her cards close, her brother’s shadow now adding another layer of complexity to any issue. Jenna’s intuition told her there was more to Clyde’s story, and she couldn’t let herself be daunted.

“We can only hope she’s willing to talk to us at all,” Jenna added. "When the mayor turns hostile, it just means more trouble for us."