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They got out and introduced themselves and told her why they were there. She eyed Sullivan’s police credentials and nodded.
“I’m Barbara Cole. As you can see, I live next door.”
“You knew Daryl?”
“Yes, and his mother, when she was alive.”
Sullivan took out his notebook. “And her name was?”
“Cindy Oxblood.”
“How long has she been dead?” asked Gibson.
“Oh, four years now. Time flies.”
“How’d she die?” asked Gibson.
“Car accident, on the road coming in here. Don’t know how it happened. Critter might have run in front of her. She went off the road and the truck flipped. She wasn’t wearing a seat belt, unfortunately. Not sure she would have survived anyway. Cab was crushed from the impact.”
“Do you know where they moved from?” asked Gibson while Sullivan wrote all of this down.
Cole screwed up her features. “I think I recall her saying the west coast. Oregon, yeah, Oregon.”
“She ever mention her husband? Any other kids?”
“No, and I’m not one to pry. I don’t like talking about my ex, either. Just makes me feel stupid all over again.”
Gibson smiled at the woman’s frankness. “I feel your pain,” she said, drawing a glance from Sullivan.
“And you found Daryl?” asked Sullivan.
“Me and the other gal.”
“What other gal?” said Gibson sharply.
“She was here taking a survey and had an appointment with Daryl. She knocked on his door but he didn’t answer. She came to my house and we went over there together. That’s when we found Daryl.” She shivered. “Still have nightmares about it. Been keeping my door locked and my gun under my pillow ever since.”
“I’m sure. Can you describe the woman?”
Cole did so and Sullivan wrote it all down while Gibson listened intently.
“There was no mention of the woman in the police report,” said Sullivan.
“Yeah, she had other appointments to get to and didn’t want to get involved. She lit out of here before the cops showed up. So I didn’t see any need to mention her.”
“Can you tell us anything else about her? What she said. The car she was driving.”
“Think the car was a rental. Looked like one that you get at the airport. She was thin and tall and pretty and real put together, if you know what I mean. Nice clothes, carried herself real well.”
“Did Daryl seem like the type who would make that sort of an appointment?” asked Sullivan.
“He would if they paid him, or gave him free stuff.”
“What was she taking a survey on?” asked Gibson.
“She said with people who didn’t have an online presence, or some such. The company she worked for was sort of researching those types, I guess to figure out how to sell them stuff another way. I think every day about chucking the whole internet and going back to the way it was, but I never seem to get there.”
“Did she act suspicious at all? Nervous?”
