Page 110 of Long Road Home

Jax peered at the board above the desk. “She’s got appointments listed here, with their last names. First one is Andrews.”

“Car accident on the way in? Maybe she was hit with the same thing as the deputy. Maybe they shared breakfast, or met for coffee this morning, and they were both poisoned by the same thing that killed Pastor Bruce.”

“Or there’s nothing going on but a whole lot of coincidental deaths.” He shrugged. “Is this the case you’ve been working?”

“Two people are dead, and my friend got arrested for it. So yes, this is the case I’ve been working.” Kenna wandered around, looking at things but without opening drawers or cupboards. Or the fridge. “I’ve got years of accidents, or deaths attributed to natural causes, plus all the deaths that J.Pierce is said to have been responsible for. Then I’ve got the people who tried to make noise about the accidents not being accidents. A coroner, for one. Maybe more than just him.”

Pastor Bruce was dead for the same reason.

Jax said, “So who wants it to look like coincidence or accidents?”

Kenna found a door by the fridge and opened that to find a small hallway, washer and dryer on one side and lined shelves of a pantry on the other. At the far end was another, door probably to the garage. She pushed the heavy door open and fumbled on the wall beside it for a switch. A bare bulbpopped and flickered to life. Kenna stared at the interior of the garage.

Jax shifted behind her, close to her back, and peered over her shoulder. “What. The. Heck.”

Lining the garage walls were blown-up images that depicted graphic scenes of murder. Torture. Victims bound and bleeding.

She managed to say, “We should call Gingrich.”

Who were these people? And why did a psychologist have them displayed around the room like she’d turned her garage into an art gallery? And her son was a sheriff’s deputy who had no idea?

Jax froze. “I think I should call the FBI.”

“This is my case, Jax.” She turned and saw movement behind him. “Watch?—”

A heavy figure with a dark stocking pulled over their face slammed into his back before he could turn. Jax slammed into Kenna, and she stumbled back. She fell to the concrete floor, and he landed on top of her. She managed to keep her head from slamming back onto the ground, but didn’t move right away. Except to lift her hand and touch it to the back of her head, which she then laid slowly on the freezing concrete. Her gun dug into her hip.

Kenna gritted her teeth.

Jax pushed off her and turned, moving swiftly toward the door. It slammed in his face, and he let out a cry of frustration. He pounded both fists on the spot where the door should be.

They’d have to break down a wall to get out of here.

Chapter Thirty-One

Kenna stared at the ceiling. The bare drywall had been taped but never mudded and painted. She closed her eyes and pictured the figure she’d seen. Dark. Dark jacket, dark face covering. No skin visible, or hair. No discernable features.

Shorter than Jax. Maybe by three inches. So that put the person about five foot nine or ten, close to her height.

“Did you hit your head?” His boots shuffled across the floor, and she felt him crouch, one hand on her shoulder.

Kenna eased her eyes open. “I don’t think so.”

“Land on anything?” He moved her elbow across her body and slid his hand under her. “Roll over. Let me look.”

Kenna held out her hand. “Help me up. The floor is cold.”

He grasped her elbow and hauled her up without putting strain on her forearms. Taking care with her, understanding her weaknesses, and not counting them against her. Just adapting to get the work done anyway. The way she did.

The room rotated a little around her. Kenna hung on to his belt, trying not to look at the walls. The scene was pretty gruesome, and she’d need to survey each one to see if thevictims in each image were related to a case—any case, or this case—and whether she recognized them.

At least, none of them appeared to be children.

Kenna shivered.

Jax pulled her in for a quick hug, rubbing up and down her back. “It’s freezing in here.”

“So lets find a way out.” She pulled her phone and called Gingrich. He didn’t answer, so she left a message and then called Kobrinksy.

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