"I didn't mean for this to happen." Denise sunk into her chair. "I shouldn't have left for the book tour. I shouldn't have written the story; look where it got me."
"You didn't expect your family to be murdered. We'll figure out what happened. Where did you find this?" Detective Mullen scanned through Jennifer's journal. A large yellow notepad sat next to him. Every few seconds, he wrote something on it.
"I was cleaning my car. I found it stashed underneath a seat in the back."
"And you don't know who this Grant is?"
Denise shook her head, "I have no clue. I wasn't aware my mom was talking to anyone. I don't understand why he did it. He slaughtered them like animals."
Detective Mullen pressed his lips together. "Mm...maybe. We don't know if he's the murderer or not. We won't know anything until we talk to him."
"How could someone do such a cruel thing? He stabbed them multiple times and let them suffer! Why would anyone want to do that?"
Detective Mullen dropped his pen. His eyes met hers. "If our killer happens to be this Grant guy, there's a high chance he did it out of anger. Your mom bruised his ego."
"You can bounce back from a bruised ego! You can't return to a normal life after a felony. You can't vote, you can't get a passport, you can't own a gun." Denise ran her hand through her hair. "I've never been mad enough to kill someone."
"Sometimes people see red. They react before they realize what they're doing. It only takes a few seconds to do something stupid. When we find the killer, you can talk to them yourself."
The wooden door to Detective Mullen's office flew open. Sheriff Winston stumbled inside. The white cockatoo on his shoulder was falling. He huffed and puffed as he shut the door. "What did I miss?"
"Did you see Denise's car outside?" Detective Mullen asked.
"Yeah, I saw the back of it. What happened?" Winston flung his hat onto the table and ripped his eye patch off his face. "Did you get into a car accident?"
"Someone tried to kill me!" Denise blurted out.
"What?" Winston put his hands on his knees. He struggled to breathe. He parked the sheriff's car behind the station and ran inside.
"Do you happen to know anyone by the name of Grant?" Mullen changed the topic. He closed the journal and slid it over to Winston.
"I met the wife of someone named Grant at the fire station. I don't personally know anyone named Grant. Why? What does this have to do with anything? What about the car?"
"Denise came here to give me that. On the way inside, some guy with a red pickup truck tried to squash her between his bumper and her car. She dived out of the way just in time."
"The book is Jennifer's journal," Denise added. "I found it in my car yesterday. I realized it might be helpful after you said they found male DNA under Jennifer's nails. There's a guy named Grant mentioned in it."
Winston grabbed the journal and started glancing through it. Mullen jotted something else on his notepad. Two brisk knocks came from the door again.
Deputy Falcon shoved her head inside. Before they came to Detective Mullen's office, Deputy Falcon took Denise's statement. She spoke to Denise in a different room. The two spent twenty minutes together before they departed.
"I'm sorry to interrupt. Cody, do you remember that pizza man crash last night?" She stepped inside the door.
Detective Mullen glanced up from his chair. "What about it?"
"Wait, what pizza man incident?" Sheriff Winston turned around to face her.
"We got a 911 call last night from a guy. He went out to deliver a pizza and someone smashed into his car from behind. His head slammed into his steering wheel and he was knocked out."
"The poor guy woke up covered in blood without his shirt or his hat. The shirt and hat were part of his uniform for Simon's Pizza. The pizza he was supposed to deliver was gone. He gained consciousness and called 911." Detective Mullen finished for her.
"Yeah, it was a weird incident."
"Did they happen to say what kind of pizza he was delivering?" Sheriff Winston asked.
"It was a large pepperoni."
Every hair on the back of Denise's neck stood up. The second guy stopped at her house last night and dropped off a large pepperoni pizza. There was no way it was a coincidence.
"Anyway," Deputy Falcon continued. "The guy said he was hit by a red truck. Deputy Pelton ended up arresting the guy who tried to hit Denise. Along with the grey paint from her car, there was white paint. They think this guy also hit the pizza man."
"Do you know the name of this man?" Sheriff Winston asked. "I think this is connected to what we're working on right now."
"It's some guy named Grant Bowers."
Time seemed to freeze. Denise felt like she was underwater. A high-pitched ringing vibrated throughout her ear canals. She struggled to take a breath.
"Could you go get Denise some water?" Winston asked. "She's looking a little green."
"Of course, I'll be right back." Deputy Falcon's black bob bounced behind her. She let the door open and left the room.
"Does that name ring a bell?" Mullen turned to Winston.
Winston nodded his head. "I met his wife and three kids at the fire station. Sullivan was there too. He ran out of the place after talking to Grant's wife. She said her husband did something stupid. I had a sneaking suspicion something bad happened."
"If he's been detained, he's probably being held at the jail. Should we go question him?" Mullen asked.
"Absolutely. We have questions we need to ask him. I need to change beforehand. I don't think they'd appreciate me showing up as a pirate."
"You don't think they'd like to see your cockatoo?" Mullen asked with a straight face.
Winston rolled his eyes. "Har, har, har. Very funny."
Deputy Falcon came back inside the room with a cup of water. She handed it to Denise, "here you go. I've got to go back to my office. I have a bunch of paperwork to fill out."
Denise thanked her and took a sip of water. She spoke after Falcon exited the room. "I'm going to head back home."
"What about your car?" Detective Mullen asked.
"It might be smashed, but it should still work. I have to go home and call my car insurance company. I hope Grant has great insurance because I'm not paying for the damage he caused."
Detective Mullen glanced over at Sheriff Winston. He returned it with a shrug. "If Grant is currently in custody and he's our guy, it seems like the threat is gone. She should be fine. If anything happens she can call us."
"We'll be twenty minutes away," Mullen pointed out.
"Pelton arrested Grant and he should be back here soon. If anything goes wrong, Falcon will be able to get there before us. I'll let her know that she might be needed." Winston straightened the bird on his shoulder. "It'll be fine."
"I don't know. This seems kind of sketchy, don't you think?" Mullen frowned. "Something seems off about this."
"Everything will be fine," Winston repeated himself.
"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Mullen looked towards Denise.
She nodded her head. "I'll be fine. Let me know what happens after you investigate things. I want to know if this is the same guy that Jennifer mentioned. I'll see you guys later."
She stood up and grabbed the cup of water.
"Can we keep this journal?" Winston asked.
She nodded again, "that's why I brought it here. I figured you'd read it and put it in with the case file." She tilted her head back. The last bit of ice water cascaded down her throat.
"I'll call you tomorrow and fill you in on everything," Winston promised.
"I won't be around my phone until the afternoon. I'm going to church tomorrow morning." The words slipped out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying.
She hadn't been to church in over a decade. Her mom went to the same church since she grew up in Brimington. Sometimes Jennifer went with her. Most of the time, Jennifer stayed home with Denise. The two never shared religious beliefs with their mom.
"Are you going to the Methodist Church?" Mullen asked.
"I think so." Denise tossed her paper cup in a trash can.
Brimington's Methodist Church had been her second home, at one point.
"My wife and I go there. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow," Denise responded. She walked out of Mullen's office and went back towards the front lobby. She hoped her car was still working. She didn't want to call a tow truck.
Detective Mullen turned back towards Sheriff Winston. "I still don't have a good feeling about this."
"Seriously, relax. Give me a few minutes to get changed. I have spare clothes in my office. Why don't you put this journal with the Houghton case file? It'll give you something to do besides worrying."
Detective Mullen picked up the small leather journal. A black string poked out from the bottom pages. It marked the last entry Jennifer wrote.
Winston grabbed his hat and eye patch. He wanted to get to the jail to talk to Grant. He didn't know how long he'd be held there. If he was friends with Sullivan, who knew if he could still pull strings.
Detective Mullen threw his head back. He squeezed his eyes shut. "May the good Lord help us." He muttered under his breath.
Anxiety brewed in his stomach. He swallowed to get rid of his dry mouth. Something didn't feel right. He was afraid to find out what it was. He dreaded it.
Whatever it was, it wasn't good.