Page 12 of In Her Shadow

Aaron shook his head, his expression turning inward as he searched his memory.“They all keep to their own, for the most part.But you know how it is, Sheriff...words fly faster than fists in this place.”

Jenna’s gaze was unyielding.“What time did Clyde leave last night, Aaron?”she asked, her voice carrying the weight of the badge she bore.

Aaron’s fingers drummed an uneven rhythm on the polished wood of the bar.The memory seemed to play out behind his eyes before he found his voice again.“It was just after 11.I cut him off –” He stopped, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.“He was way past his limit.Tried to call him a cab, but Clyde…” Aaron’s voice trailed off, and he shook his head with a blend of frustration and sorrow.“He got all indignant, said he didn’t need my help.He stormed out before I could stop him.”

Jake’s pen paused against the paper.“Did you see which way he went?”

“No,” Aaron replied, and his head moved side to side, a physical echo of uncertainty.“But his truck’s still in the lot.Noticed it when I came in this morning.Figured he must have gotten a ride from somebody, or maybe walked home.”

At Aaron’s words, Jenna and Jake shared a look.If Clyde’s vehicle never left the bar, then the possibilities of what transpired between his departure and his death were rapidly narrowing.

“We need to see it,” Jenna said.

A few minutes later, Jenna’s boots crunched on loose gravel as she followed Aaron across the parking lot where Clyde’s truck sat isolated.

“Over there,” Aaron said, his voice subdued, pointing to the pickup truck that was a testament to years of hard labor under the relentless Missouri sun.It was battered, the paint faded and chipped, but today it was more than just a vehicle—it was a potential crime scene.

As they approached, Jenna’s senses sharpened at what she saw.There were scuff marks on the gravel, chaotic and telling, leading up to the driver’s side of the truck.Crouching, she saw the outline of a boot print.She stood and moved closer to the door, where a small smear glistened darkly on the handle.Blood?Her heart beat quickened.

“Don’t touch anything,” she ordered Aaron.“Don’t let anybody near this truck.”

The bartender nodded.“I guess I can close off this part of the lot for a while,” he said as he headed to pull a couple of sawhorses into place, blocking access to the truck.

“Jake, call Colonel Spelling about this,” she instructed.“He needs to send a forensics team here ASAP.And then get the truck impounded.”

Without hesitation, Jake pulled out his phone and dialed, relaying the urgency with a few concise words.Jenna glanced around the lot, hoping for an eye in the sky, a witness made of wires and lenses.But when she spotted the security camera, she saw that it was old, clinging to the bar’s facade like a relic, its angle too narrow, its range too short.

“Aaron, does that camera work?”she asked, shielding her eyes from the sun to get a better look.

“Kinda,” he grumbled, scratching his stubbled chin.“But it won’t show you much.Doesn’t capture clear images, especially not at night.”

A sigh escaped Jenna’s lips.It was a lead, however frail.“We’ll need whatever footage it has.Anything can help.”She stared at the camera, willing it to reveal its secrets, knowing the odds were against them.“Highway Patrol will want to look at whatever that camera caught last night.”

Aaron gave a slow nod, his face drawn and pale.

“I’ll show them anything they need to look at,” Aaron said.

Jake ended his phone call.“Forensics are on their way,” he confirmed.

“Let’s go back inside,” Jenna said.

As she led the way back into the Centaur’s Den with Jake and Aaron close behind, her mind was a carousel of theories and missing pieces.

“Let’s sit down and talk some more,” she suggested, motioning toward a wide corner booth.“Aaron, there’s an image we need to know if you recognize.”

At Jenna’s silent command, Jake pulled out his notepad, his hand moving deftly as he recreated the haunting brand they’d found on Clyde Simmons’ chest: a tree shape with intricate details.A symbol that spoke of mystery and, now, death.

“Does this mean anything to you, Aaron?”Jake asked, sliding the sketch across the table without mentioning the image’s grim context.His tone was casual, but his eyes were alert, searching for any flicker of recognition.

Aaron leaned over the drawing, squinting slightly.“Can’t say that it does,” he replied after a moment, shaking his head.“Looks like something out of those fantasy books, or a family crest maybe.But nothing I’ve seen around these parts.”

“Speaking of around these parts,” Jake chimed in smoothly, flipping his notebook to a fresh page, “do you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm Clyde?Any recent trouble he’s gotten into?”

Aaron was visibly wrestling with the weight of the situation.“Actually, there’s been talk,” he began cautiously, his gaze shifting between Jenna and Jake.“This activist, Lily Cummings, she’s been stirring things up around town—badmouthing Clyde to anyone who’ll listen.I never took it as more than hot air, but now...”

Jenna’s posture stiffened.Lily Cummings could be bad news, her passion for animal rights had often blurred into radical action.

Aaron continued, “Lily Cummings said that Clyde needed to watch his back.”

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