They walked up to the front door, and Kane pressed the doorbell, hearing the chimes echo inside. Footsteps and then a woman wearing a dressing gown flung open the door.
“Mrs. Powell?” Jenna stepped closer.
“Yes, what can I do for you, Sheriff?” The woman gripped the front of her gown and her mouth hung open. “Oh, sweet Jesus, has Becky had an accident?”
“May we come inside?” Jenna lifted her chin.
“Yes, of course.” She turned as a man walked from a side room. “Albie, something’s happened to Becky.”
Kane looked at the distraught man. “Is there somewhere we can sit down?”
“Yes, in here.” The man waved them into the family room and stood in the middle staring at them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Powell, please sit down.” Jenna waited for them to sit on the sofa. “I’m sorry to inform you, Becky is dead.”
“How? She never drives fast.” Mr. Powell looked up at them, his face drained of color. “What happened to our little girl?”
“I’m afraid that is yet to be determined.” Jenna sat opposite. “She was found about an hour ago in a house on Stanton. I identified her on scene but we’ll need you to make a formal ID.”
“I need to go to her.” Mrs. Powell was staring straight ahead obviously in shock. “She’ll be all alone. She needs her mother.”
Kane cleared his throat. “She’s not alone, Dr. Shane Wolfe the medical examiner and his daughter Emily are with her. She’s in good hands, safe hands.”
“When then?” Mr. Powell seemed to shake himself and took his wife’s hand.
“Tomorrow at ten at the medical examiner’s office.” Jenna looked from one to the other. “You mentioned Becky was driving tonight, what is the make and color of her vehicle?”
“It’s a red Chevrolet Equinox SUV.” Mr. Powell looked troubled. “She said she was going to meet friends at the library. She came home for dinner and then went back out. I told her not to be late because of school tomorrow. She promised to be home by nine-thirty. We were getting worried.”
“Do you recall the names of any of the friends she was going to meet?” Jenna took out her notepad.
“Some boy, I think.” Mrs. Powell looked at her husband. “She dressed real pretty and was so excited she hardly touched her meal.”
Kane nodded. “So, no names you can recall? What was she wearing?”
“What do you mean by that?” Mr. Powell’s eyes widened. “Are her clothes missing?”
“We need a list to make sure nothing is missing.” Jenna flicked Kane a meaningful glance. “If you don’t mind?”
“White top and a denim skirt, she was wearing her boots. Brown cowboy boots with fringes.” Mrs. Powell’s eyes filled with tears. “She took a backpack and her pompoms. I saw her putting them into her bag.”
Kane nodded. “Is there anyone we can call, family or a minister?”
“No, we’ll call the family.” Mr. Powell ran both hands down his face. “It’s better coming from us. I’ll call her brothers, they’re both away at college. And then the rest of the family.” He pushed unsteadily to his feet. “Ten tomorrow at the medical examiner’s office, you said?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Jenna stood and handed him her card. “If there’s anything you need or can recall, please contact me, day or night.”
Kane looked at the devastated couple. “We’ll see ourselves out. I’m so sorry for your loss.” He led the way outside and back to his truck.
“It will hit them soon.” Jenna climbed into the seat and pushed on her hat. “After we drop by for takeout, swing past the library parking lot. We might locate Becky’s vehicle.” She let out an explosive sigh. “It’s going to be a long night but we’ll have to keep going. We’ll need more evidence if we’re going to catch the killer.”
Thirty-Four
Steam billowed as the hot shower spilled over her and washed every trace of Becky Powell from her hair and skin. The scent of roses filled the room, removing the smell of the dying girl and bleach. She’d shampooed twice and scrubbed her skin after sneaking into the house and undressing in the laundry. She’d dumped her clothes in the washing machine and cleaned her boots with bleach before creeping upstairs to the shower. Once she was done, she’d take her laundry downstairs and start the machine. Within the hour, she’d have everything in the dryer all spick and span.
Her mind replayed seeing Becky die. It was as if she could relive the moment, rewind, and fast forward at will. Her heart still pounded at the memory of the look in her boyfriend’s eyes as he raised the flashlight. The evil in him had thrilled her. It wasn’t the killing; it was making him do it for her. Power had surged through her. After they’d dragged Becky against the wall and turned her head to watch them, his kiss had been brutal. She’d pushed him away and enjoyed seeing him crushed at her rejection but there’d been no time to waste, they’d had to leave and he’d followed her orders like a pet dog. She controlled him now. He’d never leave her.
After drying her hair, she wrapped a towel around her and collected her things, creeping downstairs to the laundry, setting the machine, and slipping back unnoticed. She checked the time; of late, she timed everything. The washing machine cycle took thirty minutes on a small load and she could set the timer on the dryer and go to bed. Not that sleep beckoned her. She won