Page 25 of In Her Memory

A heavyset man with a graying beard emerged from a back room, his eyes narrowing at the sight of three law enforcement officers in his shop. “Help you folks?” he asked, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into his belt.

Esterhaus stepped forward. “Ed, these are the officers I called you about. Colonel Spelling from the Highway Patrol and Sheriff Graves from Genesius County.”

Ed’s gaze lingered warily on Jenna, obviously noticing the resemblance to the woman who had been here earlier.

“This about that bicycle, I’m guessing,” Ed said.

“Yes,” Jenna said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “When did you acquire it?”

“Just this morning,” Ed replied, crossing his arms. “Woman came in looking for quick cash.”

“Did she give her name?” Spelling asked.

“No, she didn’t.” Ed shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I know I should’ve gotten ID, filled out the proper paperwork. But she seemed desperate, and it was only twenty bucks. She, uh, looked a lot like you.”

“She’s my twin sister,” Jenna said. '“Did she mention where she was headed?”

Ed shook his head. “No. She just took the twenty dollars and left.”

“Mr. Reeves,” Spelling said formally, “you are aware that state law requires proper identification and paperwork for all items taken in pawn?”

Ed’s body slumped. “Yes, sir. Like I said, I know I messed up there. It just... it didn’t feel like a real transaction, you know? More like helping someone out.”

“The bicycle stays here for now,” Esterhaus interjected. “Consider it evidence in an ongoing investigation.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Spelling said to Ed. “We won’t be concerned about that gift you made.”

On her way out of the shop, Jenna took a final look at the bicycle. It represented both hope and heartbreak.

Why did she leave us again? she wondered.

“We should head to Helen Bowerman’s place next,” Esterhaus suggested. “It’s really close by.”

Jenna forced herself to turn away from the bicycle.

Esterhaus drove Jenna and Spelling to their next destination. Helen Bowerman’s single-story home sat at the end of a tree-lined street, its white clapboard exterior bleached pale by years of summer sun. Bright chrysanthemums lined the front walkway, and the freshly-gathered leaves were bagged up near the curb.

Esterhaus led them up the concrete path to the front door. A wind chime made of colorful sea glass tinkled gently as they passed beneath it. The chief knocked firmly, and moments later, the door opened to reveal a woman in her sixties, silver hair neatly combed.

“Chief Esterhaus,” she greeted, then looked curiously at Jenna. “Are these the officers you mentioned over the phone?”

“Yes, ma’am. Colonel Spelling from the Highway Patrol and Sheriff Graves from Genesius County. They’re here about the woman who did your yard work.”

Helen removed her gloves. “Please, come in. Would any of you like some iced tea? I just made a fresh pitcher.”

“No thank you, Mrs. Bowerman,” Spelling replied politely. “We don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

She led them into a living room filled with floral-patterned furniture and family photographs.

“Please tell me what happened, Mrs. Bowerman,” Jenna began, once they were seated.

Helen settled into an armchair; her hands folded in her lap. “She knocked on my door just this morning, said her name was Emma—Emma Kirby, I believe. Offered to clean up my leaves for money.”

“What time was this?” Spelling asked.

“Around ten, I’d say. Just after I’d finished my morning programs.”

“And you hired her on the spot?” Jenna tried to keep the urgency from her voice.