Courtney released her, wiping her eyes. “Why did he kill her? He could’ve taken her money and knocked her out. I mean, she was skinny and little, five-two. Whykillher?”
“Maybe he didn’t want to be identified.” Julia thought it over. “You know, that suggests she could’ve known him.”
“That’s true,” Courtney said, anguished. “She’s lived here all her life. So maybe she did know him.”
“Did she lock her doors?”
Courtney pursed her lips. “Only at night. No one here does.”
“Do the cops know where she was that day? Before she came home?”
“I didn’t think to ask.” Courtney sighed, her shoulders sagging. “They wouldn’t let me in the house. I saw the coroner take her away, in a body bag.”
“You poor thing.” Julia let the moment pass, out of respect.
Courtney set her jaw. “I wish I knew what happened here. She obviously put up a fight. Maybe she went for the gun.”
“Would she do that?”
Courtney nodded sadly. “Yes, she was feisty.”
“What happened to the gun? Did the cops take it?”
“No, they looked out back but couldn’t find it.”
Julia thought a minute. “Was the killer holding the gun when he ran to the pickup?”
“No, but he could have put it in his pocket.”
“Can you run fast with a gun in your pocket?”
“If you have to.”
Julia tried to visualize it. “Did he get in the driver’s seat or the passenger’s?”
Courtney blinked. “The driver’s.”
Julia mulled it over. “Do the cops think it was one guy or two?”
“One,” Courtney answered, frowning. “I saw only one guy. I was too focused on catching the killer, then I fell. One could’ve gone upstairs, too. The cash was in her bedroom. Why do you ask?”
“What if there was another guy first and he’s the one who killed her? Maybe he had the gun. He could’ve already been in the passenger seat.”
“I suppose you’re right, but I didn’t see him.”
“Did the cops check any tire tracks in back? The brush is tall, so I would think anybody driving through the field would’ve left an imprint.”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you been upstairs yet?”
“No, they wouldn’t let me come in, only the crime techs and the detective. They dusted for fingerprints, see?” Courtney gestured to a black smudge on the end table. “Maybe we should go to her bedroom.”
“Okay, if you’re up to it,” Julia answered, but Courtney was already heading that way, and Julia followed to the staircase. Framed photographs hung along the wall, adorable school pictures of Courtney, a heartbreaking candid of Kay with Courtney’s grandfather, a wedding photo of Courtney’s mother and father, and Kay holding a pot of beautiful daisies with a blue ribbon.
They reached the landing, and Julia followed Courtney to Kay’s bedroom, where they both stopped, stunned. The bedroom was a wreck, the mattress was dumped on the floor, its yellow coverlet in a pile. The drawers of the oak dresser hung open, and bras and underwear were scattered on the rug amid jars of Cetaphil, deodorant, andperfume bottles, one broken, emitting a floral scent. A lacquer jewelry box lay on its side, its glittering contents strewn atop the bureau.
Courtney gasped. “Bastard! He destroyed this room!”
