The Man in the Shadows

Jessica Bowden sat in the brightly lit interrogation room, the cold metal chair pressing into her back as Sheriff Franklin studied her across the table. His sharp blue eyes bore into hers, scrutinizing every twitch, every breath. Jessica clenched her fists, trying to still the tremble in her fingers. She had done nothing wrong, yet here she was...labeled a person of interest simply because she had discovered her mother’s lifeless body moments after the murder.

"Jessica," Sheriff Franklin finally said, his voice calm, "I need you to think hard about the question I asked. Did your mother have any enemies? Anyone who might have wanted to hurt her?" Jessica shook her head sadly. As the frustration bubbled inside her she could not hold her tongue any longer. "No, she was well liked in the community. She stayed to herself mostly, on the farm. She did go to church every Sunday, but it's a small church and everyone knows everyone."

Franklin leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "You mentioned a man came looking for her. A man she was afraid of. That’s not nothing."

Jessica exhaled sharply. "I don’t know who he was. She never told me. But if you believe he’s the one who did this, shouldn’t you be looking for him instead of keeping me here?" Franklin studied her for a long moment before nodding. "You're free to go, but don’t leave town. We’re not done here." Jessica got up to leave.

"Am I free to get some things from the house?" She asked. Franklin's brow furrowed. "I can have a deputy meet you there in an hour so you can get your things. It is still an active crime scene, and we can't have anything disturbed." he replied. Jessica nodded.

Jessica’s mind raced as she drove back to the farm. The place she had grown up in now felt alien, tainted by tragedy. The police tape fluttered in the evening breeze as she stepped onto the porch. The deputy was there within minutes of her arrival and escorted her into the house.

Pushing the door open, she inhaled sharply. On the floor was an outline of where her mother had lain. Blood still puddled on the floor. Jessica felt her stomach flip and reached for the wall to steady herself. The deputy looked at her with a concerned expression. "Miss, you okay?" he asked.

Jessica nodded and gulped what seemed like an ocean of spit welling in her throat. She felt like vomiting was non negotiable, and raced to the bathroom. The deputy, unaware of her urgent need, ran behind her to watch her wretch into the toilet.

"Do you mind?" she queried. Looking embarrassed.

"Oh, sorry miss," he stammered as he backed out of the bathroom and shut the door.

He was a nice looking man. Jessica thought about how good he looked in his uniform. She had noticed he was not wearing a wedding band. This could definitely be used to her advantage if he was so inclined to look at her as a lady in distress. Jessica put that thought in her hip pocket for later use.

Jessica emerged from the bathroom. Her breath minty fresh from the mouthwash.

She apologized to the deputy. He smiled at her. "No worrries, ma'am. " he said.

Jessica glanced around the room. Her mother had been hiding something. Something worth killing for. But what? She could not see one thing that anyone would want badly enough to kill for.

She moved cautiously toward the staircase to her bedroom. She walked through the wreckage trying to avert her eyes from the mayhem and pain. She glanced around the room as she began her ascent to the upstairs bedroom. She had a clear view of the living room from the staircase, and she wanted to ascertain if there was something that could lead her to her mother's killer.

Her eyes landed on the bookshelf—her mother’s sanctuary. If there were any secrets to be had, they would be in that bookcase. Somewhere within a book, shoved between books, or perhaps behind the books, Jessica knew was the answer, or at least a clue to what had happened. Jessica had to find a way to get access to the bookshelf without drawing attention to what she was doing.

Jessica headed down the staircase after retrieving her belongings. She approached the young good looking deputy, her small duffle bag of clothing in her hand.

She smiled the best 'damsel in distress' smile she could muster.

Would he let her have some time alone?

To be continued....