“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.