Page 28 of In Her Path

“Sheriff, Deputy,” she said as they approached. “I’m glad you made it. I was about to get started.”

“Mayor,” Jenna replied. “We should discuss—”

“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss the details afterward,” Mayor Simmons cut in with an icy smile. “Right now, the people of Trentville need to hear that they’re safe.”

Before Jenna could respond, the mayor turned and made her way to the podium, the council members following in her wake. A hush fell over the crowd as she stepped behind the microphones, her smile broadening to encompass everyone gathered.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” she began, her voice carrying across the square. “I know today has been difficult for our community. The tragic death of Councilman Paige has left us all shaken, and I want to thank each of you for your patience and support as our law enforcement officials worked tirelessly to bring this investigation to a swift conclusion.”

Jenna stood at the edge of the crowd, her arms crossed. Beside her, Jake shifted his weight, his discomfort evident.

“I’m pleased to announce,” Mayor Simmons continued, “that earlier today, Sheriff Graves and Deputy Hawkins apprehended Warren Oswinkle, who is now in custody on charges related to Councilman Paige’s death. I want to commend our sheriff’s department for their quick action and thorough investigation. Because of their efforts, the people of Trentville can rest easy knowing that the person responsible is behind bars.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd. Someone called out “Thank you, Sheriff!” and others joined in, a wave of relieved gratitude washing through the square.

Jenna had known this was coming—had prepared for it, had steeled herself against the moment—but hearing the words spoken aloud, watching the people of Trentville relax at the news of a crime she wasn’t convinced had been solved, made her feel like a fraud. This wasn’t justice; it was expedience. And instead of participating, she was about to be the one to take that sense of security away.

“Now,” Mayor Simmons said, “I’d like to invite Sheriff Graves to say a few words about the investigation.”

The crowd’s attention shifted to Jenna, expectation bright in their faces. Mayor Simmons stepped back from the podium, her smile fixed in place as she gestured for Jenna to take her place.

As Jenna moved forward, each step felt harder than the last. The microphones loomed before her, waiting to carry her words to the edge of the square and beyond.

She reached the podium and paused, looking out at the crowd. Faces turned toward her, some familiar, some not—all of them waiting for confirmation of what they’d already been told.

“Thank you, Mayor Simmons,” Jenna began, her voice sounding strange in her own ears. “I appreciate the opportunity to address everyone tonight.” She took a breath, steadying herself. “I know there have been rumors circulating about an arrest in connection with Councilman Paige’s death. I want to clarify the situation.”

The crowd’s expression shifted subtly—curiosity replacing relief, certainty edging into confusion.

“Earlier today, Deputy Hawkins and I took Warren Oswinkle into custody on charges of resisting arrest and assaulting an officer. Mr. Oswinkle is currently being held at the county jail. However—” she paused, meeting Mayor Simmons’ eyes across the podium, “—I want to be clear that no charges have been filed in connection with Curtis Paige’s murder. Our investigation into the councilman’s death remains ongoing.”

A ripple of surprise moved through the crowd. Jenna could feel Mayor Simmons’ indignation—the heat of anger radiating from her still form. The mayor’s smile had frozen into something that barely qualified as an expression.

“What Sheriff Graves means,” Mayor Simmons said, stepping forward to reclaim her place at the microphones, “is that while the formal charges are still being processed, we’re confident that Mr. Oswinkle is responsible for Councilman Paige’s death. The sheriff’s department has done an excellent job, and we’re all grateful for their hard work.”

The tension between them crackled in the evening air, visible in the rigid set of the mayor’s shoulders, in the careful distance Jenna maintained as she stepped away from the podium.

The crowd had begun to murmur, conversations breaking out as people turned to each other with questions and theories. The reporter from the Gateway Herald was already making notes, her pen moving rapidly across her pad, while the TV correspondent consulted urgently with her producer.

“If there are no further questions,” Mayor Simmons said, her voice rising above the noise, “I’d like to thank everyone for coming. This meeting is adjourned.”

She turned away from the podium, her movements precise with controlled anger. The council members gathered around her, forming a protective cluster as they moved toward the courthouse doors. Through the gap between them, Jenna caught a glimpse of the mayor’s face—flushed with fury, her eyes hard as they fixed on Jenna across the square.

“Time to go,” Jake said quietly.

Jenna turned to make her way back through the crowd. People called out questions as she passed, but she kept moving, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other until they reached the patrol car. This time, Jake took the driver’s seat.

“That didn’t go well,” he said, starting the engine.

“No,” Jenna agreed. “It didn’t.”

As Jake pulled away from the curb, Jenna glanced in the passenger side rearview mirror. The crowd was dispersing, moving in small groups toward the surrounding streets. And at the top of the courthouse steps, Mayor Simmons stood alone, watching the patrol car with undisguised hostility, her arms crossed, her posture a study in contained rage.

Jake turned the corner, putting the courthouse behind them, but the image of the mayor’s glare remained fixed in Jenna’s mind—a promise of trouble to come.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jenna stared out the window, as Jake steered the patrol car away from City Hall. Her mind kept returning to the moment she’d stepped up to the podium there.