Page 50 of Long Road Home

“He disappeared years ago,” Kobrinsky replied. “I had to hit the paper archives to pull the files from the last time a car was dispatched to the address. The sheriff remembered him, and the paperwork correlates what he said. Marion’shusband was a mean drunk, but she never wanted to press charges.”

“Question is, did she kill him, or did she have someone else do it?” The possibilities made her wonder if there was a connection between Stan Tilley and this community that went back further than Kenna’s arrival here. “Maybe I’ll ask her.”

“You think there’s an accomplice…with the girls?” Kobrinsky asked.

“That’s a good question. But there was nothing in the investigation I came up with that suggested she had any relationships, or anyone else who came and went at the house. No family. Barely any friends outside work.” And the book club. “No hobbies, groups, or clubs she was part of. She didn’t eat out much, she didn’t go to church. She got groceries once a week, and she went to the library.”

The fact Marion Wells had routinely checked out children’s books had been a clue Kenna couldn’t ignore. They might have been for her to read, since she was a school librarian, but they also might’ve been for the children she kept locked up behind her closet.

“What makes a woman with a quiet life do something like this?” Kobrinsky wondered aloud.

“Let me in to ask her,” Kenna replied. “I’ll find out.”

“Fine. Be here in an hour.”

He hung up, and it didn’t feel like it had when she got cut off with Jax.

Could I have just one quiet day? Do You take requests like that?

She wasn’t sure how far God would go to honor a request for a peaceful few hours. In the middle of a case, there were occasionally calmer days or times when things seemed to lull. Normally it didn’t bode anything good.

Kenna took a shower and put on insulated pants and a T-shirt. Often she didn’t even look at the scars on her arms, but today she paused. Ran her fingers over them. When her mind wanted to twist what had happened in her nightmares, warping her memories, the scars were a reminder of what had happened.

The black-and-white of what she had lost, the fact she’d survived while so many things were gone. Including the life she’d been looking forward to living. When her mind wanted to spin the tale and distort the past, this was a kind of Scripture. Irrefutable truth.

Kenna trailed through the house to Forrest’s office. She wasn’t there, and Kenna needed to get to the sheriff’s station to cover for Kobrinsky. She did feel a little responsible for his injury, and the fact the department was so busy right now. She had the training to cover for them—as long as no one handed her badge. Unless it was life or death she didn’t want the responsibility.

“Forrest!” She called out a couple more times, but her landlady wasn’t home apparently.

Given someone wanted to stir up trouble surrounding Forrest’s family’s deaths, Kenna prayed for her that she wasn’t trying to take it upon herself to figure things out. As soon as she could, Kenna was going to hit up the pastor and get him to admit what was going on.

Why Bruce had been the one to bring this to Forrest’s attention—and Kenna’s by default, or by intention—she didn’t know. As soon as she got to a department computer she would look up the case file herself and get some answers.

Kenna locked up and drove to the sheriff’s office.

Snow was starting to fall, and if the temperatures were any warmer, the forecast would call for drizzling rain. Shestopped behind a school bus of kids who had to be going on a field trip. Then signed in at the department.

The fiftysomething bleached blonde receptionist looked down her too-big nose, scowling in a way that let Kenna know she had lipstick on her teeth. She was professionally put together otherwise, with her hair curled and wearing a pair of slacks and a blouse. Reading glasses hung from a string around her neck.

“Is the sheriff in?” Kenna asked.

The scowl didn’t go anywhere. “No, ma’am. He’s in court all day, probably won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” She was about to ask where to find Kobrinsky when he swung into view on his crutches, behind the desk, down the side hall.

He spotted her. “This way, Banbury. Paulette, did the coroner call yet?”

“Just did, hon. She’s ready for you.”

“Kenna is in charge while I’m out.” He turned away without seeing the look on Paulette’s face.

“I guess I drew the short straw.” Kenna tried to commiserate with a look.

A moment later, Paulette winked. “Seems like that’s how it works with these guys.”

“Doesn’t matter where I go, the culture of a small-town sheriff’s department isn’t so different from the next one over.”

Paulette’s brows rose. “MaybeI’llrun for sheriff.”

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