“I agree,” Santos said, “but it’s possible. If we’re looking at a Bonnie and Clyde crime scene, maybe Ethan and Becky both shot the Doyles. Kind of like a pact—I’ll do it if you do it kind of thing.”
“Maybe, but if that’s not the case, why?” Randolph asked.
Santos thought about this a minute. “If I killed someone with my 9 mm, it might be beneficial if someone thought a shotgun did the deed. It makes a bigger hole, does more damage. It would buy me some time at least.”
“Shotgun beats 9 mm,” Randolph said, heading to the door.
“Every single time,” Santos agreed.
Farmwork didn’t end with death. Matthew Ellis needed to care for the animals at his daughter and son-in-law’s farm. Though Caroline and Matthew were hesitant to let Josie come along, she begged to. She didn’t want to go anywhere near the house but wanted to visit the goats and see if Roscoe had come home.
Though it was early, and the sun was just rising, the heat was going to be as unrelenting as the day before. Temperatures were forecast to hit a hundred and four degrees with the heat index.
They made the short drive to the house without seeing any other vehicles. No volunteer searchers had yet arrived, and only one deputy was stationed at the top of the lane.
When Matthew slowed his truck to pull into the drive, the deputy waved at him to keep moving. “Hey,” he said, “you can’t come in here.”
In the passenger’s seat, Caroline straightened her spine. “This is my daughter’s house,” she said through the open window. “I want to talk to who’s in charge.”
“Yes, of course,” the deputy apologized. “I’m sorry for your loss. Go on through. You can pull right into the drive. Another deputy will meet you down there.”
Matthew parked in front of the house and they stepped from the truck. Josie looked up at the house. Homes were supposed to be safe havens, meant to protect. It was supposed to be a shelter from the elements, a fortress to keep out evil, and her home had betrayed Josie in the worst possible way.
“We’ll go and tend to the animals,” Matthew said. “Are you sure you want to go in the house?” he asked Caroline.
“I’ll be fine,” she said stoically. “I’m just going to get a few things for Josie.”
Matthew and Josie watched as Caroline and the deputy made their way into the house.
Josie imagined her grandmother having to walk through the house, up the stairs, past the room where her daughter died, then having to step across the bloodstained carpet in her room. Josie didn’t know how she could do it, knowing what had happened to them. Josie vowed to never step foot in that house ever again.
From behind them came the sound of footsteps. They turned to see Margo Allen coming toward them.
Matthew was surprised. After what had happened the day before, he wasn’t expecting Margo to come back to the house, but he understood it. This was where her daughter was last seen. When she dropped Becky off, she had been healthy, happy, safe. And now she was gone.
He reached out his hand to her, but she let it hang in the air.
Despite the heat, Margo wore an oversized sweatshirt and jeans. Her eyes were puffy and her skin mottled from crying. Josie wondered if she looked like that. As if one wrong word, one wrong look would shatter her into a million pieces.
“I just wanted to talk to Josie for a minute,” Margo said, her lips trembling. “Will that be okay? If we just talk for a minute?”
“I don’t know.” Matthew hesitated, looking around for someone to tell him what to do.
“I just want to know what happened,” Margo said. “The police won’t tell me anything.” She turned to Josie, took her hand in her own. Josie wanted to pull free, but Margo held tight. “I just want to know how you were able to get away and Becky wasn’t.”
Josie looked to her grandfather. “Now, Mrs. Allen,” he began.
Margo focused her attention on Josie. “No, no, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re safe. You got outside, right? They said you were outside, but where was Becky? Was she in the house?” Margo’s voice rose. “Did you leave her in the house with him or did she get out too? I’m just not sure why they won’t tell me anything. But you’ll tell me, won’t you? You’ll tell me what happened.”
“I’m so sorry about Becky,” Matthew said. “Everyone’s doing all they can to help find her.”
“Not everyone,” Margo said shrilly. “Not me. They said I shouldn’t. They said it would be better if I stayed home and waited. But I can’t wait. I need to know what happened.”