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“What? Sorry.”
“I said the tox screen should be back later today. There was a faint odor of something on her face. I’m assuming it’s whatever he used to subdue her. Maybe that will help us.”
“God, I hope so.” He studied her for a moment. “Nita, you’ve lived here a long time. Got a sense for the rhythm of this place. Do you think there’s a remote chance that this could be in any way connected to those child murders from twenty-five years ago?”
“What?” She glared at him. “No, and I don’t think you should be passing that around, either.”
“Just do me a favor. Please? Check your report against the old autopsies and see if anything compares.”
She pushed her chair back and reared to her feet. “I’ll do it, but it’s a waste of my time. Whoever did those killings twenty-five years ago is long gone.”
And isn’t that what everyone wants us to believe?
Even the killer.
****
Stan and Lois Kelly lived in a small house near High Ridge Middle School. Dana sat in her car for a moment, studying the area. All the houses were small but well-maintained, most of them made of the familiar Texas stone and adobe. The lawns in front were neat, some with an abundance of flowers, others with neatly trimmed shrubs.
A family neighborhood. Only some of the families had been ripped apart.
She hadn’t called in advance, unwilling to give the Kellys a chance to refuse to see her. Gathering her purse and her courage, she headed up the narrow walk and pressed the doorbell.
At first, there was no answer, although she could hear movement inside the house. She waited a little longer, then pressed the bell again, this time more insistently. The door cracked open the length of the chain inside, and a pair of haunted eyes peered out at her.
“Go away,” a woman said. “I know who you are. Just go away.”
Dana made her voice as even as possible. “Mrs. Kelly, I just want a few minutes of your time. That’s all. If you could just spare me that little bit.”
“I have nothing to say to you. I don’t want to talk about it.”
The door closed. Dana sighed and pressed the bell again.
“I’m trying to give all of you here some closure,” she called. “Don’t you want to find out who did this to your child? That person has been running around free all this time.”
Silence.
“Mrs. Kelly?” She lowered her voice slightly. “Just give me ten minutes. That’s all. Please.”
She was about to leave and try the next address when the door slid open, the loose chain rattling against its hard wood, and a hand motioned her inside.
“I don’t want you standing out there where all the neighbors can hear you,” Lois Kelly told her. “But I don’t have anything to say to you.”
Dana hurried inside before the woman changed her mind.
The house was immaculate, so neat it was almost inhumanly clean. Dana had seen this before, the compulsive cleaning, over and over, as if by doing so the stain of what happened could be washed away. And it kept one from thinking. Repetitive motion could be wonderful for blanking the mind. She should know, she harbored many of the same habits.
Lois Kelly was thin almost to the point of emaciation. Her straight dark hair was cut short—less upkeep—and she wore no makeup. She was dressed in black slacks and a black blouse. Dana wondered if she’d worn mourning clothes all these years.
“Jane Milburn told everyone what you’re after.” Her voice was high and thin. She stood in front of Dana, twisting her hands tightly as if they were the only thing holding her together. “You want to dig it all up again and bring back the nightmares just so you can make money. We won’t let you do it.”
“Lois.” Dana pulled out her best professional voice. “May I call you Lois? I think Jane misunderstood what I said to her. That’s not my intention at all.”
As she talked, she moved to a narrow wing chair by the window and casually lowered herself into it.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Lois Kelly’s face took on a pinched, demanding look. “Why are you doing this?”
Dana looked around the small room. Nearly every surface was covered with framed photos of a smiling, chubby redhead with dimples and snapping eyes. She wasn’t older than five in any of them, the age the little girl had been when she was raped and murdered.
