Page 54 of Long Road Home

This freedom she had now, in Christ, was a whole lot different.

Instead of being alone she had connection—something she’d never sought out or asked for. No wonder figuring it out was proving difficult. Or just uncomfortable.

Kenna slumped into a chair and used Kobrinsky’s computer to look up the case number Bruce had given her. The case was old. Far older than Forrest’s desire to write this particular book.

“What’s that?”

Kenna started. She hadn’t even heard Paulette come into the room. “Hey.”

“Front desk is boring. Figured I’d see what you’re up to.” She settled on the corner of Kobrinsky’s desk like someone hadn’t asked her to check up on Kenna and what she was doing.

“It’s case related.” Whatever else she said would get back to the sheriff.

“Huh.” Paulette slid her glasses onto her nose. She’d cleaned the lipstick off her teeth and had the scent of mint on her breath. “Tamarin… Oh, the coroner. That was years ago.” She skimmed the screen alongside Kenna. “Yeah, their car accident.”

“What do you know about what happened?”

“Pretty much that. It’s been so long, but I could look up some news articles.”

“That would be great, thanks.” Kenna smiled. “The sheriff might need some context if this becomes relevant.”

“Why would it?” Paulette lowered the glasses, frowning.

“You said this person was the coroner?” When she nodded, Kenna said, “And he died in a very similar way as Forrest Crosby’s husband and son.” She had onlybriefly skimmed the report, but caught enough of the details. “At a spot called Stevens Point.”

“That’s a town west of here.”

“Okay, so it didn’t happen locally.” The report was from the state police and had no photos, just the written report. They hadn’t done much as far as any evidence collection. “But did this Bill Tamarin guy live around here?”

“The Tamarins lived in town.” Paulette’s gaze distanced for a second. “Meadow Drive, I think. I used to be friends with their daughter. She moved away for college in St. Paul before the accident and never came back. There wasn’t much point.”

“Did Bill Tamarin have any connection to J.Pierce or the book Forrest is writing?” It was a hunch. A longshot at best. But she needed something that would help her figure out what was going on.

“Huh.” She hopped off the desk. “I need to look something up. Come with me, though.”

Because Kenna couldn’t be alone? She wondered if Paulette had somehow listened to the conversation with Marion. The receptionist hadn’t asked about it.

Paulette’s fingers flew across the screen. “Yeah, here it is. It’s old, but there’s a true crime blog that links to the article.” She turned her monitor so Kenna could see. “The coroner, Bill Tamarin, went public with his theory that J.Pierce was behind not just the bodies that had washed up on shore, but other kills also. Apparently, there were connections.”

“When was it that he went public?”

“This was put up a couple of years before they were killed in that accident, so it’s not like it’s some kind of conspiracy.” Paulette paused. “More like a tragedy if you ask me.”

“Seems like there’s a lot of that going around.” When was Kobrinsky going to show back up and tell her what hadhappened with Pastor Bruce? “I know about the bodies that were found on the beach. The theory Forrest has in her notes is that J.Pierce, the killer, had a boat and would take victims out and kill them over a period of days.”

Paulette’s cheeks pinked. “That was what the media said. I have to admit, when I started working here, I looked up the case files with the state police system. The sheriff caught me, but we talked about it. I was new so he let it go, and I’ve never looked up a case. Just local media and news reports. Sometimes he has me draft a press release now or send out what he wrote.”

“A lot of people get interested in true crime stuff,” Kenna said. “But what were the other kills Tamarin referenced?” She motioned at Paulette’s screen.

Paulette read down the screen. “I don’t know that this makes much sense.”

Kenna could have her send links, which she’d pass to Maizie to look into. Nothing else was coming together, and this could be the answer to all her questions.

“It looks like a hit-and-run. A drifter got killed by a guy in a truck who was driving drunk. One of them is a teacher who had a heart attack after school one day, and they didn’t find her until the next morning.” Paulette worked her mouth back and forth. “Why would he say a killer did that when they’re tragedies and accidents?”

“That’s a really good question.”

One Kenna planned on finding the answer to.

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