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“Who else knew?” Malcolm asked.
I rubbed my forehead, my hand shaking. Dammit, I needed a drink. “The school secretary. She gave Nate the address when Louise and Drew refused to get it.”
“She got any skin in this game?”
“Not that I know of, but I don’t even know her name. I know absolutely nothing about her.”
“Who else?”
“I didn’t exactly go broadcasting that I was headed over here,” I said in exasperation. “And I doubt anyone overheard us at the bar.” Dread washed through me as another suspect popped into my head. “Casey LaRue’s parents. They planned to go to the principal tomorrow morning to tell her about Eddie taking Casey and Ava to the janitor’s closet.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Instead of going to recess after lunch, the two girls were hanging out with him in the janitor’s closet. Casey swears nothing inappropriate happened, but she was home sick with the flu a couple of weeks ago, giving Eddie time to form a closer bond with Ava. Then last Thursday, Casey caught them being secretive and heard the word tonight.”
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Her father’s not gonna want to wait for the police. He’d want to take things into his own hands.”
“But why take Eddie’s car?” That part didn’t make sense.
“To make it look like he fled on his own.”
“With the broken window?” I asked. “And the blood? It looks like a home invasion.”
“Because they were damn sloppy about it,” he said, gesturing to the door.
“I doubt either one of them are criminal masterminds. She’s a stay-at-home mom and he runs a manufacturing plant.”
His lips pressed together as he considered it. “Sure, and they might be into those murder podcasts. Plenty of people consider themselves experts after listening to those.”
“I’m searching the rest of the house,” I said, pulling a pair of leather gloves out of my coat pocket and tugging them on.
“You think he left a note that says, ‘I molested little girls’?”
“You never know what he might have left.”
He grunted. He knew I was right.
I started looking around the room for anything that might help. Malcolm used the bottom of his coat to tug open a couple of drawers until he pulled out a small dishrag and used it to look around. There was a stack of mail on the edge of the counter. A quick glance through it ruled out anything important. A couple of bills and a parking ticket from Jackson Creek from a few weeks ago.
One dirty plate, glass, and set of silverware sat in the sink, and a half-empty cup of coffee sat on the kitchen table.
“Fresh?” I asked when I realized Malcolm was looking at it too.
He stuck his finger in the liquid, then flung off the drops from his finger. “Cold. Probably from this morning.”
The coffee pot on the counter by the refrigerator was empty and off, so I suspected he was right.
I walked past Malcolm to the door and looked through the panes to study the back patio. There wasn’t much out there, just a rusted outdoor loveseat with no cushions and a couple of terra cotta pots filled with weeds. But when I shined my phone’s flashlight out the window, I noticed a couple of dark spots on the concrete.
Blood.
“I think whoever broke in cut themselves. There’s blood on the glass and outside.”
“Amateurs,” Malcolm sneered in disgust.
“All the more reason to suspect the LaRues.”
He glanced over at me. “Wanna pay them a visit?”
