Penn continued. ‘Most often carried out due to depression, marital or financial problems.’
‘Maybe he was having an affair and the wife found out,’ Stacey said. ‘Revenge killing.’
‘But why the kids?’ Bryant asked.
‘A fit of rage?’ Penn answered.
Bryant shook his head with that barely tolerant expression. ‘Her rage would be at the husband not the children.’
Prior to the team-building weekend, Kim hadn’t noticed how quick Bryant was to shoot Penn’s ideas down, and the two days away hadn’t made the slightest bit of difference.
‘She may have wanted to punish him. If she killed the kids first, he would have known that before he died.’
‘Doesn’t make sense,’ Bryant insisted.
She respected Penn’s determination in making his point despite Bryant’s protestations, and she had to disagree with Bryant. In Penn’s scenario, the order of the shootings did in fact make sense. William Daynes had been the only one out of bed so must have heard the first two shots. When his wife entered the bedroom and pointed a gun at him, he had to have known what she’d done.
Kim turned to the detective constable. ‘Stace, priority is to check on Helen’s mental health.’
She finished her coffee and grabbed her coat. With a bit of luck and a strong wind, this might be one of their quicker cases to solve. Perhaps, even by the end of the day they’d know why Helen Daynes had slaughtered her family.
TEN
The house belonging to the Porters looked to be about half the size of the Dayneses’ home. A one-car garage was flanked by three vehicles. There were no electric gates, and the gravel driveway was full of weeds.
‘Is this really necessary?’ Kim asked as Leanne got out the car behind her and Bryant.
‘’Fraid so,’ Leanne answered as Bryant rang the doorbell.
Kim exchanged a look with her colleague. She knew that her tolerance level would eventually be reached and that she’d be tearing into Woody’s office, but she also knew that if she did it too soon, she would be bundled into a vehicle and removed from the area, just like her dog.
‘Mrs Porter?’ Kim said as a woman with a blunt bob answered the door. There was something about the richness of her black hair that told Kim it wasn’t her natural colour. The thin lines around her mouth and eyes placed her somewhere in her late fifties.
The woman nodded without smiling as both she and Bryant offered their ID.
‘And this is Leanne King, a trainee,’ Kim added as Mrs Porter opened the door. ‘Any more reporters been around?’ Kim asked, trying to keep the accusation out of her voice.
‘No. Definitely not. We haven’t spoken to a soul since that nice officer visited us yesterday.’
‘Good,’ Kim said, following her into a small drawing room. The furniture was plush and heavy. There were ornate edges everywhere she looked. The bay window was swamped with thick floor-length velour curtains, the space heavy with maroon-coloured walls. It had the grandeur but not the space to show it off. The result was a dark, cramped room.
‘Mrs Porter, may—’
‘Della, please,’ she said, sitting on the edge of a single seat.
Kim and Bryant had taken opposite ends of a three-seater sofa that seemed to drop by a foot once she sat on it. Bryant’s expression told her that he too was wondering how he was going to get back up. Leanne lingered somewhere beyond the doorway.
‘Okay, Della, we know you’ve all given statements, but can you tell us in your own words what happened yesterday morning?’
‘Am I under arrest?’ she asked, crossing her feet at the ankles.
‘For what?’ Kim asked.
‘For questioning.’
‘We don’t need to arrest you just to ask some questions about what you witnessed. You did alert the emergency services, didn’t you?’ Kim asked, wondering if she’d got her facts wrong.
She nodded vigorously.