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“Did you find a phone?” Ellie asked.
“No. No bills or checkbook or anything personal either, not even a photo,” Derrick said.
“There weren’t any personal family photos in this room either,” Ellie said, thinking that was odd as she glanced around the room.
“This was just a vacation rental. Maybe there are pictures at their personal residence,” Derrick suggested. “I’ll search the father’s bedroom.”
“I’ll check upstairs.” Ellie yanked on latex gloves and carefully stepped around the blood-stained rug. The stairs creaked as she made her way up. The sight of the aluminum foil covering the window made her stomach revolt.
She photographed the room, noting the empty walls, the plain bedspread, a few books on the bookshelf and a cardboard box in the closet. No suitcase. No kids’ or preteen toys. No phone, laptop or video games.
She checked the dresser and found two pairs of jeans, T-shirts, shorts and underwear. No frilly ribbons or hair products.
The bedding was ruffled where it appeared Lorna Bea had sat on it, the covers askew. A photo album had fallen to the floor. She photographed it, then picked it up, hoping to find pictures of Lorna Bea and the father to compare to Frank Wahlburg’s.
There were no school pictures, which struck her as odd. Didn’t schools have picture day every year?
She found some photos of Lorna Bea when she was small, maybe five or six, at Christmas and on her birthday. None of birthday parties with other children or relatives. Her grandmother was in several pictures but oddly her father wasn’t included in any of them.
There were several blank pages as if they might have been torn out at one point.
Finally, she found a more recent shot of the girl which could have been taken in the last year or two. She took a screen shot then texted it to her captain.
She went to the closet and rummaged through the cardboard box inside it, surprised the girl had very few mementos or treasures with her. Just a seashell, an arrowhead, some rocks and a map. Then a blank notebook.
Ellie smiled at that. As a child, she’d lived her life by maps when she and her father took trips together. She’d had her life planned out. Grow up and become sheriff like her father.
Except her father had endorsed Bryce for sheriff instead of her. A seed of bitterness resurfaced. Later, she’d learned he’d done it for her own protection. It still stung though.
The corner of the bed caught her eye, and she noticed something jammed beneath the mattress. Curious, she pulled it out and realized it was a small diary like notebook that Lorna Bea had hidden.
Maybe it would hold some answers.
She glanced at the aluminum foil covering the window again. Lorna Bea’s father claimed he was protecting her.
Who was he protecting her from?
ONE HUNDRED SIX
Derrick searched Dwight Jones’ closet and found jeans, T-shirts, a pair of sneakers and boots, and several pairs of disposable gloves.
The dresser drawers were practically empty. No personal items in the room. In the bathroom, he did find a toothbrush and comb, which they’d test for DNA. ERT would dust for prints.
He moved on to the closet where he found a large metal safe. Locked. A code was necessary to open it.
What was inside? Dwight’s will? Money? A gun he wanted to keep away from his daughter?
Outside, a car engine rumbled and he went to the door. The ERT had arrived along with the ME. Ellie was coming down the stairs.
“No sign of the girl but the kids were right about the foil covering the window. Something bad was definitely going on here. I found a notebook Lorna Bea had hidden beneath her mattress,” Ellie said. “Maybe she wrote something in there that will help.”
The knock at the door halted their conversation and Ellie let the ME and ERT in. She relayed their findings while Derrick made his call, then the investigators started processing the house.
“Poor lady,” Laney said as she stooped to examine the body. “She didn’t have a chance.”
“I know. Thank goodness the door was closed and the neighbor’s son and daughter didn’t see this,” Ellie said. “Hopefully Lorna Bea didn’t either.” Ellie indicated the woman’s broken fingernails. “Looks like she fought her attacker. Check for DNA.”
She left Laney to do her job and carried Lorna Bea’s notebook outside. The stench of death followed her, mocking her with the fact that she had a child to find and another murder to solve.
