Jenn had ordered breakfast, and while she waited for it, she sipped coffee she would have preferred stronger and studied the local newspaper. She was looking for anything regarding the governor’s missing niece or the trooper who’d been killed while searching for a deputy sheriff. So far there had been nothing about it, not in any of the news media or Ms. Stuart’s or her ex-husband’s social media, which they probably had the governor to thank for.
She had just begun reading an editorial vehemently against the local hospital system only allowing patients to be seen by the hospital’s own doctors when her cell phone began playing “Blueberry Hill,” the generic ringtone for anyone not in her contact list. She set aside the newspaper and tapped the answer button on her earpiece. “Canaday.”
“Age
