“You’d been in her home before?” he asked.
“Yes. A few times. Even though she was my employee, we were friends. We often watched Game of Thrones together, and I’d help her on the nights she fed the football team.”
“The football team?”
“Sean coached the high school’s football team along with teaching history. He’d have everyone over for dinner a couple times a month.”
“All of them?”
“It’s not a big school,” Emily pointed out. “Maybe twenty or twenty-five kids would come. Lindsay loved it. She’d plan all week to make burgers or pizza or spaghetti. Those players can eat a lot.”
“I imagine.” The agent looked slightly stunned.
“She and Sean really loved those kids,” Emily said quietly, remembering how happy the little home had felt when it overflowed with hungry teenage bodies. A contrast to how still and stagnant it had been that morning.
“This couple was popular.” It wasn’t a question.
“They were,” Emily said. “They both put out a lot of positive energy that made people feel good. Everyone liked them.”
The two seconds of silence that followed her words seemed to stretch forever.
Someone didn’t like them.
Emily Mills was a good witness, Zander admitted.
She was calm and seemed to have clear memories of the morning. Not only had she painted a consistent picture of the crime scene; she’d also given insight into the victims’ lives.
After she’d determined that Lindsay was dead, she’d followed the blood trail out of the house and spotted Sean. That’s when she called 911. A single deputy arrived first, and she waited out front as he cleared the home.
“I couldn’t believe it when I realized the deputy had cut the rope.” Emily briefly closed her eyes. “He’d taken so long inside the house, I went to check on him and found him in the backyard, essentially having a panic attack. That’s when more officers showed up. It was a bit of a mess after that. No one seemed to know what to do.”
“You sound like you were very calm about a horrific situation.”
“Trust me, I was screaming inside. But during emergencies my brain focuses on what needs to be done next. I guess I compartmentalize to get through them.”
“The sheriff told me it’d been four years since he’d had a murder in his county.”
Scorn shone from her eyes. “That’s no excuse. They should have known how—” She clamped her mouth shut.
“How what?”
“How to secure the scene. Police work 101.” She glanced away. “I was married to a cop for five years. That is basic stuff. It should have been second nature to them.”
“What about when the sheriff arrived?”
“One of the older deputies had things organized by then. Sheriff Greer walked the scene and then talked to me, asking what I’d seen. When he said it looked like a murder-suicide, my jaw nearly hit the ground. I asked if he’d seen the bloody drag marks from the bedroom to the outside. He said it could be from Sean walking outside, or maybe he moved Lindsay around.”
“You noticed the symbol on Sean’s forehead, correct?”
“Yes. When I asked the sheriff about it, he said Sean may have cut himself while killing Lindsay. He told me I was jumping to conclusions by suggesting it was a hate crime.” Emily’s eyes were hard, anger lurking behind them. “That’s when I called the Portland FBI office.”
“I’m glad you did,” Zander told her. “We might not have been notified for another day or two.”
“Did you already talk to the first deputy?”
“My partner is currently interviewing deputies at the sheriff’s office.” He mentally ran through his list of questions for Emily. “Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt the Fitches?”
“No,” she said firmly. “They haven’t been here that long, but our community immediately embraced them. They brought a spark to the town. They were such a cute couple, and Lindsay loved it here.”
“Where did they move from?”
“Portland. I’m not sure where exactly. I think Sean’s family still lives there. I don’t know about Lindsay’s family.” Her forehead wrinkled as she thought. “I can’t remember her talking about them. I didn’t pry.”
“Were you her closest friend in town?”
She frowned. “She considered my sister Madison to be her closest friend.”
He glanced at the old photo of the three sisters. Emily stood out as the brunette between her two blonde sisters. The smallest girl had her arms spread wide and her chin tipped up as if she wanted the photo all for herself. He had no problem believing that she’d grown up to be a tiara-wearing waitress. Emily’s hands were on her hips, her legs long and thin, giving a hint of the tall woman she’d grow up to be. The oldest sister’s smile was coy, her gaze locked on the photographer. “Where’s your other sister?”
Emily turned her head to look at the picture. Zander had the feeling she’d done it to avoid eye contact, not to refresh her thoughts about her sister.
“I don’t know.”
Curiosity lit up his brain. Her tone had been flat, removed, and a distance formed between the two of them in the tiny office. He said nothing, waiting.
Emily finally looked away from the picture after a long silent moment. “Tara left town around twenty years ago. We haven’t heard from her since.”
Twenty years? No contact?
Zander looked back at the photo, and Tara’s coy gaze now felt directed at him.
Someone knocked on the door.
Without getting out of her chair, Emily stretched for the doorknob and easily opened the door. A teenage boy peered around the door, and his hair fell across his eyes. He shoved it out of the way and turned his attention to Emily.
“Hey, Em. Something’s happened to your car out back.”
She straightened. “Like what?” Concern in her tone.
The teenager grimaced. “Looks like they got your tires again.”
Again?
“Dammit!” Emily jumped to her feet and grabbed her purse. “We’ll have to finish this later, Agent Wells. I think we got through most of what happened this morning.”
“Call me Zander.” He stood. “I’ll come with you.”
He wasn’t done with Emily Mills.
6
Fury rocked through Emily as she stared at the two flat tires on her Honda. She pulled up the hood of her coat to avoid the rain and to hide her anger from Zander.
Two weeks ago it’d been four flat tires. And before that a broken passenger window.
What else will happen today?
She ached to go home and shut down her brain. It had experienced enough trauma.
Sucking in a breath, she focused on the issue in front of her. If her mind wandered to Lindsay and Sean, she’d crack.
“I’ve got to install cameras,” she muttered. She’d considered it after the first incident and then again after the second. Now she was kicking herself for letting it slide.
Isaac stood beside her, mist collecting in his hair. “I’m really sorry, Em. People are shit.”