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Seth reminded himself not to jump to conclusions.
Ms. Boyd swallowed. “I know. There was a weird minute—”
A weird moment?
Shaking her head, she said, “I just thought, did I leave my shoes in the middle of the kitchen floor? But they were still on my feet, so that didn’t make sense, and I’d already seen the...her legs. But...my mind wasn’t making the connection right.”
“That’s often the case when you see something completely unexpected,” he said gently.
She shuddered. “Yes. I took a step closer, and then realized Jacob was coming into the kitchen after me, so I grabbed him and my purse and raced outside. My hand was shaking so much I had trouble getting the key in the ignition, but I locked all the doors, backed out of the driveway and kept backing halfway up the block. I didn’t come closer until the police car arrived.”
“That was smart. You couldn’t be sure there wasn’t somebody still in the house.”
Her steadiness must have been a facade, because her fingers twisted together and he saw fear on her face. “Do you think he was?” she asked.
“He?” Seth repeated.
“I just assumed it would have to be a man... I mean, could a woman have enough strength to bludgeon someone to death like that?”
Not likely for a woman, but he wouldn’t rule one out. “I doubt the killer was still in the house when you arrived home.” Seth’s guess that the murder had happened within the last half hour or so suggested the killer hadn’t been gone long, though.
He asked her what cars she noticed parked on the street. She turned her head, telling him she recognized the pickup truck near the corner as belonging to the man who lived in that house. Otherwise...
“That almost has to be her car, doesn’t it?” He followed her gaze to the sedan right in front of her car.
“I’ll find out,” he said, and continued to ask questions.
No, Ms. Boyd hadn’t seen anyone outside or even looking through their windows when she turned onto the block and then into her own driveway, although she really hadn’t paid attention. “Less than usual,” she admitted. “Because my feet hurt.”
“New shoes?”
“Yes, and I’m going to throw them away.”
He smiled faintly, then asked, “Does anybody else have a key to your house?”
The way her hands continued to writhe, he was surprised he hadn’t heard the snap of her knuckles cracking.
“The landlord must.” She frowned. “And...I suppose Andrea might have had one. I guess she must have, or she couldn’t have gotten in, could she?”
He didn’t even try to hide the spike of anger. “You know the victim?”
Her gaze slid away from his.
“Any reason why she might have been in the house?”
“But there isn’t any reason for her to be here. I mean, the real estate firm she works for also manages the property, but I haven’t needed any repairs, and I can’t imagine anyone complained that I was doing damage to the house. Why else would she have let herself in?” Alternating between determined poise and vulnerability, Ms. Boyd was now all but vibrating with indignation that spilled over. “I can’t believe she’s allowed to just do that. If I’d thought anyone could just poke through our stuff, I wouldn’t have rented a house through that firm.”
“I’ll be talking to her boss, but I seriously doubt she was supposed to let herself into rentals when the tenants weren’t there. That makes me wonder why she did. Have you heard from her in the recent past?”
Ms. Boyd shook her head. “Not a word. She showed me the house, I filled out the application, went into the real estate office to sign some paperwork and pay first and last months’ rent. They gave me the key and that was it.”
She and her son had lived here for eleven months, she said. And yes, she’d run into Andrea a few times since at the grocery store or pharmacy, so she must live here in town. They’d been friendly, in a casual way. “She’d ask how the house was working out, we might talk about some event here in town or the weather. Nothing really personal. I think she was only being polite.”
