Leigh zoomed off to the station with the evidence. The constables were still working in the house. Susie was alone, slumped on one of the backyard patio chairs. She waved her phone at Alexa like a distress signal. “I need my charger.”
“Have you heard from your parents?”
“I got a text.” She didn’t meet Alexa’s eye.
“What did it say?”
Susie hugged the phone to her sweatshirt and scowled. “I don’t have to tell you.”
The kid’s evasiveness was irritating, suspicious. “That’s true, but why wouldn’t you? Everything you share helps us find who killed your aunt.”
“Everyone knows who killed her. That man. The Hammer. That’s what Dad said.”
“Maybe. Where’s Ms. Kies?” Susie looked toward the house. “She’s gone to get us drinks.”
“That’s nice. I need her present so that I can take your fingerprints.” Alexa paused. “Unless you’re eighteen?”
Susie brightened. She looked younger when she wasn’t scowling. “Almost. I’m fifteen.”
Alexa sat. The bloody fingerprint in the garage pushed down on an imaginary pressure point. “Do you ever do the laundry?”
Susie made a face. “You’re a crack-up. Mum does the laundry.”
“Did you find your aunt’s phone?”
Her face reddened. She picked at a nail. “I didn’t. It was Daddy. He smacked me when I turned it on.” Her bottom lip trembled.
“Where’s the phone now?”
She shrugged.
Alexa watched the family liaison come out the back door, bearing a tray with a pitcher and glasses as if this were a summer picnic. She smiled brightly at Alexa. “Would you like some lemonade?”
“I need to take Susie’s fingerprints and head to the lab.” She turned on the mobile scanner and guided Susie’s right hand. She blinked. Leaned closer. The kid had scratches on the top near the knuckles.
Raw and angry scratches.