The chill of the morning has given way to a more welcoming warmth, making it difficult not to notice the beauty of the day. Shedding her jacket, Rachel tosses it beside her before heading to the first house on her list. She understands that revisiting the victims for another round of interviews is a long shot , yet it's their only option at the moment.
The sergeant knocks on the old wooden barrier and waits. She starts to knock again when a tall, thin woman opens the door. Her thick blonde hair is secured into a bun. Her pale, makeupless face looks thin and drained. Like the rest of her, her oversized shirt and faded baggy jeans have seen their better days. She readjusts the chunky infant propped against her hip and asks. "May I help you, officer?"
"My name is Sergeant Bower, and I'm with the Berryville PD. I'd like to ask you about your father's death." A preschooler peeks around his mama's leg. Rachel waves; he ducks out of sight.
"That was nearly thirty years ago."
"I know, and I wouldn't bring it up if it didn't pertain to a pending case."
"I don't understand how it could have anything to do with my father's death, since he died of a heart attack."
"Heart attack?" Rachel asks, recalling what she'd read. The sergeant watches the woman's body language as she continues to explain.
"My sister said work is what did him in. I was a little older than my son when he died, so I don't remember much."
I can usually tell when someone is lying, but I don't believe she is. "Well, thank you for your time." Rachel is walking to her car when she hears:
"Hey, officer."
" She turns to find an older version of the one she just talked to, smoking on the porch. Throwing the cigarette into the ashtray, she heads across the lawn. "I overheard you asking my sister about Jim's death."
"According to our report, an intruder shot Jim in his home."
"He did."
Rachel motions toward the house. "Why does your sister believe it was a heart attack?"
"I only told her that because I didn't think she could handle knowing the truth."
A curious expression crosses the sergeant's face. "What is that exactly?"
"An intruder shot him like the report says. The police believe it was someone he owed a lot of money to, but they could never prove who did it. Jen idolized that scumbag, thought the sun rose and set in his ass, that he could do no wrong."
So you lied to shield her from the truth."
She nods then says, "She was his little princess. He'd dote on her every chance he could get, and…" A single tear streams down her face; she quickly wipes it away.
"And he'd abuse you?" Rachel finishes.
She forced down the tears that were threatening to escape and said, "He'd sneak into my bed late at night, claiming it was time for me to earn my keep. Her face pales as horrid images come to mind. Pushing them aside, she continues to explain, "See, Jim isn't my father. He and Mom married after she'd told him she was pregnant with Jen."
"Did your mom know about his nightly activities?"
"I told her, but she was always too high to care." She snorts, rolls her eyes, and adds, "The only time I told her when she was sober, she slapped me across the face, telling me to stop making shit up."
"You didn't talk to your teacher or school counselor?"
"Jim homeschooled us." She rolls her eyes again and adds, "If you could call it that."
A childhood memory of her nightly visitor suddenly comes to mind; Rachel pushes it aside. "You're the one who found him, correct?"
She nods. "He'd just left my room when I heard gunshots in the hall. I ran out to find Jim dead on the floor."
"According to the report, you said you saw someone running down the steps?"
"He was a tall dude, with curly brown hair. I only saw his backside as he was racing out the door."
"What did you do?"
"I went to wake up Mom and found her dead, OD'd, they said."
Rachel recalls the crime scene photo of her lying on the bed, a syringe beside her. The only prints found were hers. "That must've been difficult for you, losing both in the same night."
"I wasn't that surprised about Mom. See, she nearly OD'd a few times before. She'd go to rehab, get clean, and do it all again."
"So, what did you do after you found your mom?"
"I ran to check on my baby sister and called 911."
"Do you remember anything else about the intruder? The clothes he was wearing, his cologne?"
Closing her eyes, Jackie tries to picture that night in her mind. He had on a dark leather jacket and jeans. He has a tattoo on the back of his neck."
"What did it look like?"
"I couldn't tell you what it was, but I do remember there wasn't any color to it, like a prison tatt you see on TV."
"That's very helpful; thank you." She hands her a card and says, "If you remember anything else, please let me know."
Climbing into her car, she grabs her phone and quickly dials the station. "Joe, I have a new lead. One of the victims remembers a prison tatt on the back of the killer's neck. Who was shot? I'm on my way."
Rachel arrives to find the crime scene being taped off. Forensics is busy searching the yard. She then sees the medical examiner standing over the deceased. Walking over, she asks, "What can you tell me, Sharon?"
"He took one to the chest at close range." Sharon points to the power burns on the victim's shirt and adds, "The shooter couldn't have been more than a couple of feet away."
"So the killer is probably someone he either knew or didn't feel intimidated by."
"I'd say those assumptions are probably correct."
Stepping up beside her, a forensic tech holds up three small bags of bullets and says, "I found them in the trees leading up to the house. They're all from a .38. I'll know if they match the other victims once I get them to the lab."
"Is there anything else?"
"We found a small shoe print on the far side of the trees. I'd say it's a woman's shoe size six. I have one of my guys making an impression of the print now. I will let you know what we find out once we get it to the lab."
"You do that." Seeing Jerry talking to the widow on the porch, Rachel heads that way.
"Sergeant," Jerry says, handing her his tablet.
Rachel quickly reads through the notes. "Tell me about the threatening phone call."
"The killer's exact words to me were, 'My baby sister died because of you, and now you have to pay."
"Do you have any idea what he was talking about?"
"The caller was a woman, and no, I don't have any idea of what she's referring to. Like I said before, I was never in criminal law, just contract law, deeds, and things like that."
"You went out to save him, and that's when she shot at you?"
"She nearly got me too." A terrified look crosses her face. Her face pales when she says, "The boys were playing in the yard only minutes before I got the call. If I hadn't…"
"Don't do that to yourself." The sergeant says, knowing what that rabbit hole could lead to.
"You're right, sergeant, thank you."
"I'd like to talk to the boys and see if they remember seeing someone. if that's alright with you."
"Please go easy on them; they've been through a lot today."
"I will, I promise."
"If I say enough, you'll stop?"
Rachel places her hand on Grace's and says, Being a mother myself, I understand your concerns, but just know I won't do or say anything to traumatize your boys."
"Alright then, but not too many questions, alright?"
"I'll get them for you." Jerry volunteers.
Rachel glances around the wooded area and says, "I'd like to take you and the boys somewhere safe."
"We're going to go stay with my aunt in Missouri. She's on her way."
"I'll assign a couple of officers to keep watch on the house until you leave."
"I'd appreciate that, sergeant."
The porch door squeaks open; two boys run out. The oldest of the two stops mid-step and glares at Rachel. With hate in his eyes and a stream of tears flowing down his cheeks, he asks, "Why did you kill my dad?"