Page 24 of In Her Path

He swung the crowbar in a wide arc, then advanced, tears and rage contorting his face.

“Warren, stop!” Jenna commanded, drawing her weapon in one smooth motion. “Put the crowbar down. Now!”

Behind her, she could sense Jake moving, positioning himself for whatever came next.

In the moment of awful clarity, Jenna knew she might have to make a choice she’d regret for the rest of her life. Warren was just steps away now, close enough that she could smell the whiskey on his breath, see the broken blood vessels mapping his cheeks.

The crowbar rose higher, glinting in the weak light. She tightened her finger on the trigger.

One more step, and everything was going to change.

CHAPTER NINE

Jenna’s muscles tensed as she braced for the swing of the crowbar, for the mad rush, for the decision she’d have to make.

She kept her voice steady. “Mr. Oswinkle, put the crowbar down. This doesn’t have to escalate.”

His eyes, bloodshot and watery, fixed on her gun. “He took everything from me.”

“I understand you’re angry—“

“You don’t understand anything.” His voice cracked. “I’ve lost everything. You don’t know what that’s like.”

Suddenly, Warren dropped the crowbar and moved with a speed that surprised her—not forward, but sideways. As the crowbar clattered to the floorboards, he hurled his body toward the front entrance with the desperate energy of a man with nothing left to lose.

Jenna’s finger paused on the trigger. The uncalculated flight rather than an attack made her hold her fire. She wasn’t going to shoot this man who was just running away, even though he’d just threatened her.

“Freeze!” she shouted, holstering her gun as she lunged forward. Her hand closed around Warren’s wrist just as he reached for the doorknob. Warren twisted with the desperate strength of the cornered, his elbow barely missing her skull. She stumbled back but maintained her grip, dragging him with her.

Then Jake was there, his larger frame barreling into Warren, driving him against the doorframe. Warren’s breath left him in a wheezing grunt.

“You’re under arrest! Stop resisting!” Jake’s voice boomed through the small space, as he worked to gain control.

Jenna recovered her balance, moving to secure his other arm. Warren thrashed against their grip, his wiry body all sharp angles and sudden movements. He scrabbled for purchase on the doorframe, his feet kicking against the floorboards.

The three of them staggered out through the doorway, a tangle of limbs and momentum. They all went down on the sidewalk in a heap. Warren’s head cracked against the concrete with a sickening thud. Jake landed on top of him, his weight pinning Warren’s torso to the ground, while Jenna was already reaching for her handcuffs.

Warren went still beneath them, not unconscious, but suddenly completely defeated. His breath came in ragged gasps against the pavement.

“You have the right to remain silent …” Jenna began, the familiar words flowing as she secured the cuffs around his wrists, the metal clicking tight.

Warren said nothing, his face turned toward the sidewalk, a thin line of blood already seeping from the cut on his forehead.

Jake climbed to his feet, offering Jenna his hand. She took it, then together they hauled Warren to a standing position, his body suddenly limp in their grip. Blood ran from the cut on his forehead, mixed with dust and tears as they stood him upright. His eyes, when they finally opened, were dull and unfocused. He made no move to resist as they turned him toward the patrol car, no sound of protest as they guided him across the street.

A small crowd had gathered—three or four people drawn by the commotion, their faces showing curiosity and concern. A woman took a child by the hand and hurried them away.

Jenna maintained her hold on Warren’s arm as they approached the car, but his resistance had vanished. He moved like a sleepwalker, his steps unsteady, his shoulders slumped.

He bent his head, allowing Jake to guide him into the back seat. Jake attached his cuffs to a restraint and closed the door with a solid thunk, the clicking sound of the lock following a moment later. Through the window, Jenna could see Warren’s expression—a ghost of a man staring back at the empty shell of his former life.

They climbed into the car, with Jake driving and pulled away from the curb. In the rearview mirror, the hardware store grew smaller, then disappeared as they turned the corner, taking Warren Oswinkle away from the last piece of his life that still had meaning for him.

*

An hour later, Jenna sat across from Warren Oswinkle in the interview room at the police station. Jake stood by the door, his arms crossed, his face impassive. Officer Fairmont had called a short while ago to tell Jenna and Jake that Natalie Grasso’s alibi checked out—she had really been in her neighborhood laundromat during the time when Curtis Paige was murdered.

Warren sat with his hands cuffed to the metal loop on the table, the cut on his forehead cleaned and covered with a small bandage. His eyes were fixed on a point just past Jenna, his posture rigid with what might have been anger or might have been fear.