Page 21 of Jenna's Threatened Sanctuary

Jenna shoved a straw in the liquid and took a long, cooling sip, hoping it would extinguish the flames of humiliation flaring inside her. She waited for Alicia to give Calvin his soda and walk away. “You’re right. No more talk about us or the past. What’s done is done. Now. Let’s focus on why we’re here.”

Calvin nodded, although a hesitancy in his eyes gave away his reluctance to move forward. “You know about the cards from the florist. I also talked to a man named Ryan Billings. He’d been in a relationship with your sister. He claims Stella ended things with him because she had gotten too busy with work, but he thinks there was another man. Claims he still loves her.”

The sentiment fisted her heart. Unrequited love was the worst, but Mrs. Collins had been right. At least now she knew where she stood with Calvin.

No, she wasn’t still in love with Calvin. She was just swept up in a windstorm, needing to find that safe spot to land. That safe spot used to be Calvin until a stupid twist of fate had her slamming the brakes on their relationship.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus on what was most important. “If he’s right, do you think whoever she was involved with is the one who sent the flowers?”

Calvin swiped at the screen on his phone and brought up the pictures he’d taken of the cards. “If we’re lucky, the florist will have records of their deliveries. If we’re really lucky, someone left information that can be traced back to the sender.”

Jenna snorted. “Luck hasn’t exactly been on our side.”

An emotion skittered across his face she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Choosing to ignore the butterflies swarming her stomach, she pressed on. “Could it really be so easy to catch the murderer?”

“Chances are whoever killed Stella was smart enough not to leave such easy breadcrumbs to their doorstep, but I’ll check anyway.”

“And if it leads nowhere?”

“Then we check into the law office and the church she cleaned. Something pushed Stella to your doorstep—pushed her to try and get Oliver back. I think that reason could point to her real killer.”

Alicia sauntered to their table with a plate in each hand. She set the full plates down, aiming a wide grin at each of them. “Can I get you anything else?”

Jenna forced a smile. “No thanks.” She speared a cherry tomato with her fork and popped it in her mouth.

Calvin bit his thumbnail and stared past her shoulder, as if seeing something in the distance.

She glanced over the shoulder then back to him. “Everything okay?”

Calvin dotted ketchup on his plate then swiped a fry through the red glob. “Jenna, could someone be afteryou?”

“What do you mean?”

“Stella being killed is tragic. Stella being killed right after showing up and threatening to take away your child is suspicious. I can understand why Cruz would question you.”

“Are you kidd?—”

“Just hang on a second and listen.” He held up a hand to quiet her. “Someone used a scalpel—the same weapon used to kill Stella—to leave me a threatening note and broke into my house. Why come after me unless everything is connected to you. Jenna, maybe digging into Stella’s past isn’t the key to finding the killer. Maybe the killer’s real target is you.”

10

The harsh wind slammed against Jenna’s back and sent shivers down her spine. Branches from the trees surrounding her two-bedroom bungalow swayed, their leaves swept up in the torrent of air and swirled against the blue sky. A soul-crushing need to see her baby hurried her up the porch steps and through the front door.

Her mind hadn’t stopped spinning since parting ways with Calvin at Lulu’s. He’d wanted her to come home with him, but she’d refused. As unsettling as his new theory was, it was based on emotion, not facts. And as much as she trusted Calvin, his hunch wasn’t enough to uproot Oliver and stay under the same roof as a man who’d gotten under her skin in more ways than one.

A man she’d have a hard time getting over again when this mess was all over.

But what if Calvin was right? She didn’t have problems with anyone in town. Although his theory held merit, she had a hard time believing anyone could hate her enough to murder an innocent woman.

A squeal of laughter lifted her heart as she stepped inside. Warmth blossomed from her core, pushing away the chill from the late October air.

“How’s everyone doing today?” She hung her keys on the hook before turning into the living room toward the sounds of Oliver’s laughter. When she spun around, fear made her vision blurry and heart stop for a beat.

A man dressed in black with a stiff white collar sat on the couch and bounced Oliver on his knee. Grief unmistakable in his red-rimmed eyes.

“Hello. Can I help you with something?” Worry tightened her chest.

The man stood with Oliver in his arms. “Dr. Simon, I’m Father Bowman. The priest at the local parish in Pine Valley where your sister attended. I stopped by to tell you I’m so sorry for your loss and everything else that’s been thrown at you the last couple days.”

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