At the high school parking lot, they loaded into McCoy’s silver Grand Cherokee, Stella riding shotgun and Mattie and Robo in the back seat, and drove to the junior high. There, Mrs. Ketler was waiting on the front steps with Burt and Juanita Banks, their expressions etched with concern.
Juanita Banks stared at them as they approached, her eyes moving from one face to another. She must have read something in them, because she blanched, and her body seemed to shrink as they drew near.
Sheriff McCoy led the way. “Please, let’s go inside,” he said, gesturing toward the school doorway.
Burt crossed his arms. “Tell us what you know.”
Juanita sagged, and McCoy stepped up to grasp her elbow, easing her down to sit on the steps. Mrs. Ketler hovered beside her.
McCoy straightened. “I’m sorry, but I do have bad news.” He cleared his throat and tugged lightly at his collar, his face showing his distress. “We’ve found Candace. And I’m sorry . . . she’s deceased.”
Juanita groaned, folding forward and hugging her belly.
“Oh, dear God,” Mrs. Ketler murmured. She sat down beside Juanita on the step and put her arm around her. “What happened?”
Burt’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath. “Are you sure it’s her?”
“Dr. McGinnis has identified her body for us,” McCoy said.
“That quack? What does he know?”
“Shut up, Burt. You don’t know anything.” Juanita’s voice wavered. With grief or with rage? Mattie couldn’t tell.
Stella moved closer to Burt, observing him, perhaps noticing the odor of liquor on his breath that Mattie could smell from a distance.
Burt glared at his wife and then shifted his gaze to McCoy. “Take me to her. I wanna see for myself.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that now. We don’t know your daughter’s cause of death yet, so we’re not letting anyone into the area where we found her.”
Juanita was moaning, holding herself and rocking, but McCoy’s words must have caught her attention. “Where? Where is she?”
“She’s near the high school, Mrs. Banks. We’ll let you see her as soon as we can.”
“We’ll go now,” Burt said, turning to head for his vehicle, a battered gray truck.
“Wait, Mr. Banks,” McCoy said. “I need you to stay clear of the area. We’re bringing in professionals to take care of Candace, and we need to give them space to do their work.”
Burt caught a toe on an uneven place in the sidewalk and stumbled while Stella stepped around to block his way, grasping his arm as if to assist him. He straightened, striking away her hand. Mattie and Robo moved closer, Robo’s hackles raised.
“Just trying to keep you from falling, Mr. Banks,” Stella said in a soothing way. “You can help by talking to us, and we’ll take you to Candace as soon as we can.”
“Is Candace alone?” Juanita asked the sheriff.
“There’s a deputy watching over her.”
Juanita covered her face and sobbed into her hands.
“How did she die?” Burt demanded.
“We don’t know her cause of death yet,” McCoy said. “But it will be investigated.”
“Small-town cops,” Burt muttered. “Like that’s going to do any good.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Banks, could we take you to your home while we wait?” McCoy said. “It’s getting cold out here.”
Streetlights had switched on, and the temperature dropped after sundown.
“I’ll drive you home in your car, Mrs. Banks,” Stella said. “Mr. Banks, perhaps you could ride with Sheriff McCoy.”
Mattie appreciated that the detective had decided to isolate the parents from each other. She must be intending to interview them separately.
“I’ll drive my own car,” Burt said.
“Mr. Banks, I can’t allow you to drive right now, so I’ll take you home,” Sheriff McCoy said. And then he turned to Mrs. Ketler. “Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Ketler. I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Banks will need your help in the days to come, but for now, please feel free to return to your home. We’ll more than likely want to speak to you tomorrow. Will you be here at school?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Ketler said, her eyes searching McCoy’s face and then moving beyond to stare into the schoolyard. “I’m not sure what to say to the students in the morning.”
McCoy removed a business card and pen from his pocket and scribbled on the card’s back. “This is my cell phone number. Please call me later this evening and we’ll decide on a plan.”
The principal took the card, and McCoy turned his attention to Burt. “Let’s go to your home, Mr. Banks.”
Burt had lost some of his steam, and he allowed the sheriff to lead him to his Jeep.
Mattie took Robo to their SUV and loaded him in back, wishing she could be a fly on the windshield inside one of the two other cars. She’d like to be privy to whatever conversations were taking place with the parents, but she had to be satisfied with getting information pertinent to Candace’s death secondhand.
With Stella leading the way, they crossed Highway 12 and traveled in a three-vehicle caravan to the Banks’ house on the west side of town. Mattie parked on the street behind McCoy’s Jeep in front of a single-story ranch-style home built with weathered logs. Considering the age of many of the houses on this side of town, it might have been close to one hundred years old. Five towering spruce trees filled the front yard, their dropped needles preventing the growth of grass but giving the house a cozy-cabin appearance. There were no curbs or sidewalks on this street, but the area looked well kept—free of clutter, weeds, and debris. A large black kettle filled with dirt sat by the front door, and Mattie imagined Juanita planting pansies or geraniums in it once the threat of springtime frost had ended.
By now, it had turned dark, and a chilly breeze gained strength from the west. She thought of the crime scene techs doing their duties by the powerful, portable lights she knew they would bring with them. They all had a rough night ahead.
She hoped that Stella had gained permission for them to search Candace’s room. As she exited her vehicle, she caught Stella’s eye, and the detective gave her a nod that told her everything was a go. She went to the back of her SUV and opened Robo’s compartment.
“You’re going back to work, buddy,” she said in a quiet tone. She didn’t want to rub a drug search in either parent’s face, and she especially didn’t want to set off Burt. Best to change Robo’s collar to the one he wore specifically for narcotics detection here in her patrol vehicle and rev him up quietly before entering the Banks’ home.
Robo’s excitement settled as soon as she fastened his special collar around his neck, and he adopted his familiar businesslike attitude. Mattie invited him out of the back of the SUV and then told him to heel as she led him toward the front door. Stella and Juanita were waiting for her there, while Sheriff McCoy and Burt appeared to be deep in conversation inside the sheriff’s Jeep. Evidently, Burt was opening up to him about something. Mattie slipped past, hoping not to interrupt them.
“We’ll let Deputy Cobb take a look in Candace’s room while we talk to your sons,” Stella was saying to Juanita as Mattie approached. “Deputy, Mrs. Banks has approved a narcotics sweep of her daughter’s room. She believes you won’t find anything, but if something’s there, she’d like to know about it.”
Mattie nodded and followed the two inside the house, straight into the kitchen. Juanita’s sobbing had ceased, but she walked stooped forward, her arms clutching her middle. Television noise came from the room beyond.
“The boys are in the living room,” Juanita said, looking toward Stella as if for guidance.
“Where is Candace’s room?” Mattie asked.
“Through the living room and down the hall, first door on the right.”
“Deputy Cobb will go on through while we stay with your sons.” Stella guided Juanita through the kitchen, her hand on the mother’s elbow.
A quick visual sweep told Mattie that the kitchen furniture and appliances were old, though not quite as old as her own. The tan, brown-flecked linoleum on the floor appeared clean, and the beige laminate countertops, for the most part, tidy. Though there were breadcrumbs and jars of peanut butter and jelly out as well as a few dishes in the sink, the small mess was most likely from the kids making a snack.
The living room was dark, lit only by light from the television. Juanita moved as if automated to an end table beside the sofa and turned on a lamp. Two young boys, both elementary school age, sat on the sofa, and their eyes widened as they looked away from the television and saw the strangers behind their mother. Both of them ended up staring at Robo.
Mattie proceeded through the room without pause, flipping on a light switch as she entered the hallway. The stubby shag carpeting looked like it dated back at least twenty years, but the groomed surface showed that someone had vacuumed it recently. Apparently Juanita Banks prioritized housekeeping, despite working outside of her home. Mattie realized that once again she was making assumptions, but even though she knew little about Burt Banks, she couldn’t imagine him trying to make sure the house stayed tidy.
Mattie opened the first door on the right and went inside, turning on the overhead light. At first, she thought the place had been tossed, but closer inspection revealed the normal mess and clutter of a teenager’s bedroom: books, papers, and clothing scattered about; bed unmade, with comforter and blankets draped to the floor; soda cans and dirty dishes stacked in various places. Across from the bed sat a chest of drawers and a dresser with a large mirror. A bulletin board hung over the bed’s headboard with photographs, drawings, and greeting cards pinned to it.
Looking past the general mess and homing in on specifics, a few things stood out. Many of Candace’s shirts looked like they’d be more appropriate for summer than for early spring—tube tops, crop tops, and tanks with spaghetti straps. More revealing than Mattie expected for a girl her age, but consistent with what she’d been wearing at the crime scene.
She crossed over to the bed and scanned the photos pinned to the bulletin board. Here was a shot of Candace sandwiched between two high school boys that Mattie recognized, both boys with their arms around her. She made a mental note of their names. And here, another shot of Candace with one of the school jocks, whom she recognized as the team quarterback. They were posed together, the much larger boy bending over Candace so the two could stand cheek to cheek, both of them puckered up with a big kiss for the camera.
Mattie’s alarm bells were ringing. What was Candace, a thirteen-year-old junior high student, doing with these high school boys? She feared she knew the answer.
She decided to start the narcotics sweep at the bedroom doorway, move around the room to search the furniture, and then end with the closet. After patting Robo on the side and ruffling the fur at his neck, she unclipped his leash from the active ring on his collar and snapped it onto the dead ring so she wouldn’t distract him with inadvertent obedience signals. She withdrew a pair of latex gloves from her utility belt and slipped them on. “Okay, Robo, find some dope.”
Robo pinned his ears and turned into a sniffing machine. While holding his leash lightly in her left hand, Mattie used her right to guide him around the room, indicating under the bed, and giving him plenty of time to search the clothing and bedding that lay scattered about. His delicate black lips fluttered as he whiffed each item.
She opened each drawer and carefully moved the clothing for Robo to check. A flash of red from the bottom of the pile caught her eye, and though Robo didn’t alert, Mattie certainly did.
Oh, for Pete’s sake! Closer inspection had revealed a set of peekaboo lace underwear in firehouse red.
With a sinking feeling, Mattie closed the drawers, leaving the clothing where she’d found it.
She opened the closet door and saw nothing unusual; clothes seemed sparse with plenty of bare hangers, but then most of Candace’s things were apparently on the floor. Robo sniffed shoes thrown every which way and items of clothing that Mattie indicated. She was reaching above to inspect the upper shelf when a bellow came from the living room. Burt. And he was heading her way.
Mattie turned to face the doorway while Robo jumped in front of her, his eyes pinned on the door. Burt Banks hurtled into the room, his face filled with rage.
With hackles raised, Robo charged to the end of his leash, barking fiercely and showing his teeth. Mattie was ready and stopped him short of reaching the man.
Burt halted in his tracks, no less enraged. “Get the hell out of here!”
Relieved that she’d put Robo on a leash, Mattie tried to stay calm. Any wrong move from her would escalate Robo’s protective response. “Robo, out,” she said firmly, using the command to signal release of a captive or the end of a bite-and-hold maneuver. She wanted to make sure Robo knew that was not where his mind should be. “Down.”
She could tell he didn’t want to do it, but Robo exchanged his bark for a low growl and went into down position, his chest rumbling his displeasure. Hoping it would keep Burt at bay, Mattie decided to let him grumble. By now, Sheriff McCoy and Stella were right behind the man, and McCoy stepped around to block him from Mattie.
“Hold on there, Mr. Banks,” McCoy said, palms raised in a stay-back gesture. “My deputy has your wife’s permission to be in here.”
“I don’t care what she said. I say get out!” Burt raised a fist, causing a fresh wave of growls from Robo.
McCoy stepped closer, looming over the man. “You don’t want to fight us, Mr. Banks. Calm down and we’ll talk.”
Juanita appeared at the bedroom doorway, and the small room was feeling way too crowded. “Robo, quiet,” Mattie murmured, wanting to reduce the tension, and Robo’s growling ceased.
Lowering his hand, still fisted, to his side, Burt eyed the sheriff.
Juanita slipped past her husband and went to the bed. Bending to pick up the bedclothes, she murmured, “I don’t clean the children’s rooms.”
Stella moved to intervene. “Don’t worry about straightening things now, Mrs. Banks. We need to leave the room as it is.”
Juanita looked at Mattie. “Did your dog find any drugs?”
Mattie knew the woman would face her husband’s wrath later for letting her search. She’d earned the right to know. “No, ma’am.” And then she added for Sheriff McCoy’s information, “I’ve completed the search except for the upper shelf in the closet.”
“Get out of my baby’s room,” Burt said with a catch in his voice.
The tinge of grief, combined with the man’s rage, made Mattie’s gut tighten. Her mind leapt to her own parents, bringing back her childish observations of their interactions, but she pushed them away, studying Juanita’s face instead, trying to get a read on her emotions. The mother had sunk down on the bed, perching on the edge as if her legs could no longer hold her, and she was glaring at Burt. Mattie read sorrow and fury there—a fury so intense, she wondered if it could be called hatred.
Flashes of what she’d found here in Candace’s room came to mind: revealing shirts, trashy lingerie, suggestive pictures of Candace with boys older than she. Knowing that girls with a history of childhood sexual abuse often became promiscuous teenagers, hard questions formed inside Mattie’s brain.
Had Burt Banks ever molested his daughter? And did he have anything to do with her death?