“MEL,” HOLLY SAID THROUGH the intercom, “I have a Jennifer Coventry on line three asking to speak to you.”
Jennifer Coventry...Jennifer Coventry. Mel turned the name over in her head. It rang a bell, but she couldn’t quite place it. Resigned, she said, “I’ll take it Holly.”
Into the handset she said, “Mel Crane. Who am I speaking with?”
“Sheriff, my name is Jennifer Coventry. I’m Sheila Ford’s daughter.”
“Ah,” Mel said to the offspring of the former store owner in Morelville. She’d only met the woman briefly, when she was in town to meet with her own wife’s parents before they bought the store. “I thought your name sounded familiar when my assistant said it. How can I help you?”
“My mother is gravely ill Sheriff. She needs to come home.”
“Pardon? What does that have to do with me?”
