Page 6 of In Her Path

Jenna and Jake gave the coroner space and began their own circuit of the room, moving slowly along the perimeter, taking in the physical facts before she allowed herself any interpretation of them.

At the far end of the chamber, set into the wall beside a storage cabinet, a small service door stood slightly ajar. Jenna knew the layout of the building from previous visits; that door connected to a utility corridor that ran along the back of the building. It was used by maintenance staff to access electrical panels and plumbing fixtures without disrupting council sessions. It would give access to the chamber without passing through the main lobby or the front corridor—a route that could be used to avoid both the building’s security cameras and the front desk.

Jenna frowned, glancing toward the slightly open service door. “If someone used that door to get in or out, it changes everything. The front entrance is covered by cameras—maybe not great ones, but they’d catch anyone coming or going.”

Jake glanced at the door, thoughtful. “Yeah, but those back corridors? They’ve got blind spots. The cameras don’t cover them, and anyone who knows the building could use those routes without being seen. All it takes is a little determination and the right knowledge.”

Jenna and Jake made their way back out into the corridor and down the hall to where the cleaning staff had been gathered in the break room, a small cluster of people in matching blue shirts with the city’s logo embroidered on the pocket. Jenna counted five: two women and three men, ranging in age from mid-twenties to late fifties. They fell silent as she entered, their expressions shifting from curiosity to wary attention. Officer Kay Oster stood aside so Jenna could speak with them directly.

“Thank you for waiting,” Jenna said to the group.

“We’ll try to make this as quick as possible,” Jake added.

“We need to understand exactly what you saw and when,” Jenna said.

A woman with the composure of someone accustomed to managing logistics under pressure stepped forward. She was in her late fifties, with graying brown hair and the kind of direct gaze that suggested she was used to being taken seriously.

“Sheriff,” she said, ding. “Jillian Conley. I’m in charge of the night cleaning crew.”

“Ms. Conley,” Jenna said. “Was your team working in the building last night?”

“Yes, that’s right. We start at six and usually finish around ten, depending on which offices need extra attention.” Her voice was steady, matter-of-fact. “We work in teams of two, moving through the building section by section. Last night, we had three teams covering the east wing, the administrative offices, and the council chambers.”

“And you were scheduled to clean the council chamber specifically?” Jake asked.

“Yes, it’s on the regular rotation. But when we reached that corridor at about 9:30, Councilman Paige was still working inside. The lights were on, and we could hear him moving around.” She folded her arms. “Our policy is to skip rooms that are occupied and come back to them the next morning. People don’t like to be interrupted when they’re working late, and Mr. Paige especially...” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “He preferred to be left alone when he was reviewing documents.”

“So your team left the building without cleaning the council chamber?”

“Yes. We finished the rest of our assignments and were gone by ten. The morning crew was supposed to take care of the rooms we’d skipped.”

“Who specifically was assigned to the council chamber this morning?”

Jillian’s expression tightened slightly. “Alex Reyes. He’s been with us about three months. Good worker, very careful. I assigned him to finish the rooms we’d missed.”

Alex Reyes was seated alone in an adjoining supply room. He was young—mid-twenties at most—with close-cropped dark hair and the particular wariness of someone still finding his footing in a new place. He spoke in careful, halting English, his accent placing him from somewhere in Central America. His hands trembled slightly as he clasped them in front of him, and there was a sheen of sweat along his hairline.

“I came at 7:30,” he told Jenna and Jake, his voice soft. “Ms. Jillian said to finish rooms from night before. Council room first, then mayor’s office.” He swallowed hard. “Door was not locked. Lights on. I thought maybe someone worked all night. I knock, but no answer, so I push door open. I see Mr. Paige on the floor, think maybe he’s asleep.”

He stopped, his breath catching. “I step closer to see if he is okay, and then I see...” His voice trailed off, his face paling. “I see the blood on the floor. I back up right away. I do not touch anything. I call Ms. Jillian.”

Alex’s account was consistent, his distress seemed genuine. Jake kept his questions simple, his tone steady, while Jenna watched for the particular shifts in posture or expression that might indicate deception. Then she and Jake exchanged a look of silent agreement. Alex’s story held together, and the horror in his eyes wasn’t something that could be faked.

“You did exactly the right thing,” she told him. “Thank you for your help. You can rejoin your coworkers, but don’t leave the building just yet.”

As Jenna and Jake stepped back into the break room, she caught sight of a woman standing slightly apart from the cleaning staff—Meredith Soll, the mayor’s executive assistant.

“Sheriff Graves, Deputy Hawkins,” Meredith said, her voice thick. “I came in early—the mayor’s office called, asked me to help coordinate staff statements. This is just...” She pressed a hand to her mouth. “I can’t believe it. Curtis was—” She stopped, swallowing hard. “I worked with him for fifteen years. He could be difficult, but he cared so much about this town.”

“Officer Oster will take your statement,” Jenna told Meredith Soll. “She’ll find a quieter place for you to talk. I may have follow-up questions later, depending on what we learn.”

With fresh tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, Meredith replied, “Of course. Whatever you need.”

Then Jenna and Jake returned to the chamber where Dr. Stark was still examining the body. The coroner spoke with the tone of someone delivering information she knew would change the shape of the investigation.

“Sheriff, Deputy,” she said, her eyes briefly meeting Jenna’s before returning to the body. “There’s something you need to see.”

Paige’s body still lay on the floor, but Dr. Stark had covered his head with a sheet.