Brooks looked into Stella’s eyes. “No, ma’am. I did nothing to hurt her.”
“That’s debatable. I could argue that you and the others hurt her a lot by the way you treated her. Did something happen between you and Candace yesterday afternoon, Brooks?”
“I told you, I never even saw her yesterday.”
“Did something get out of hand?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did you kill her, Brooks?”
“That’s enough,” McClelland said.
“No, I did not,” Brooks said, leaning forward and clutching the edge of the table. “I didn’t kill Candace.”
Stella persisted. “Was there an accident? Were you playing around, and she died by accident?”
“No! I didn’t even see her. She wasn’t there when I got to our meeting place.”
Jack Waverly pushed back his chair, looking like he wanted to lunge up out of it.
“That’s enough, Detective,” McClelland said. “You must stop badgering the boy.”
Stella sat back in her chair. “The boy,” she repeated. She appeared to be weighing the words, and in her mind, they’d fallen short. “A boy. I guess that’s what you are, Brooks. Even though you thought you were man enough to have sex with a girl who was little more than a child.”
Mattie keenly observed Jack Waverly. He must be a good poker player; that wince was barely detectable.
“It’s time to wrap this up, Detective,” McClelland said.
Stella relaxed back into her seat and placed her hands on the table as if she had all the time in the world. She adopted a pleasant attitude as she readdressed the teen. “All right, so you didn’t see Candace yesterday. Do you know who did?”
“No one that I know of.”
“Someone was up on that hill with her,” Stella said with an edge of impatience. “Brooks, do you know who killed Candace?”
“No, ma’am,” Brooks said, giving Stella eye contact, acting sincere. “I don’t know anything about how she died. I didn’t know she was dead until I got to school this morning.”
“Could you roll up your sleeves and show me your arms, Brooks?” Stella asked. Like Mattie, she’d evidently noticed the scabs on the teen’s hands.
Even while McClelland protested, Brooks pushed up the sleeves of his tee, revealing scabbed-over patches that looked like partially healed road rash and a few slashes that appeared more recent.
“How did you get so bunged up?” Stella asked.
“Baseball.” He fingered a long scab on his forearm. “Sliding practice.”
“Even these?” Stella waved a finger over the fresh scratches.
“I got those trimming my mom’s rose bushes last night.”
Stella looked at the father. “Is that true?”
He nodded, his lips tight, his face red. He looked like a volcano about to erupt. Mattie couldn’t tell if he was mad at Stella, his son, or the entire situation. Possibly all three.
Stella reached inside a manila envelope she’d laid on the table and extracted the evidence bag containing the black cap. “Brooks, do you recognize this?”
Brooks glanced at his father, so Mattie did too. While Brooks examined the cap, she continued to watch Jack, and she noticed his eyes narrow.
“No, ma’am,” Brooks said. “I mean, lots of us guys wear these when we train, but I don’t recognize this one specifically.”
Stella tapped a pink-painted nail on the bag. “It doesn’t belong to you?”
Brooks squinted at it. “No. I have one that looks sort of like it, but that one’s not mine.”
“Lots of you guys wear them?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you don’t know whose it is?”
“No, ma’am.”
“But you’re sure this one doesn’t belong to you?”
Brooks shook his head. “It’s not mine.”
A muscle in Jack’s jaw contracted as he gazed at his son. After observing his father’s body language, Mattie wished she had a way to prove that Brooks was lying.
“Mr. Waverly,” Stella said, shifting her attention to the father. “What do you do with your old feed bags?”
“My feed bags?” Jack asked, his voice gruff.
“Yes, sir. The bags that your cattle feed comes in, once they’re empty.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” McClelland asked, his tone harsh.
Jack crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “It’s no secret. I store them in the feed room, and then I take them back to the feed store so they can be used again. We get a discount for returned bags, and that’s what most ranchers do.”
Stella nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Waverly. I only need one more thing, and then I’ll let you go. I’d like your permission to swab your son’s cheek for a DNA sample.”
“I recommend against that, Jack,” McClelland said.
Stella kept her attention focused on Jack. “If he’s innocent, there’s no reason he shouldn’t cooperate now.”
“I’m innocent, Dad,” Brooks said, and for the first time, his eyes brimmed and his chin wobbled before he reset his face.
Jack looked at Brooks and then indicated his permission by giving a brief nod. “Go ahead. What’s most important here is that a young girl is dead.” His eyes grew fierce as he held his son’s gaze. “A man would step up and help the police, even if it’s only to eliminate himself so they can move on to the next guy.”
Brooks nodded. Message received, Mattie thought. She respected this father’s integrity.
“Thank you, Mr. Waverly. I couldn’t have said that better myself.” Stella withdrew a DNA kit from the pocket of her suit jacket. It took mere seconds for her to swab the teen’s open mouth.
Handshakes were exchanged, and Mattie escorted the three from the interview room and back through the lobby, her purpose to observe them in the parking lot. But McClelland was too experienced to allow her to see nonchoreographed movement. With a glance her way, she heard him say, “Let’s go back to my office.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Jack said, heading out the door toward his car, a silver Toyota 4Runner. “We can talk over the phone.”
The two cars pulled out of the lot as Stella walked up behind her.
“What do you think?” Stella murmured.
Mattie shook her head, sadness washing through her. “I’d hate like anything to find out that our killer is that kid. But after what we learned at the feed store, those marks on his arms, and the evidence you found on the phone, we’ve got to consider him a suspect. Besides, I think he was lying about that cap not being his.”
Stella nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ll call the parents of those two new boys and set up interviews.”
As Mattie and Stella started back toward their offices, Brody came out of his.
“I got ahold of the bartender from the Hornet’s Nest,” he said. “She says she knows exactly who Burt Banks is, and he didn’t stop by the bar at all yesterday. He lied about his alibi.”
Chapter 10
“How do you want to do this?” Mattie asked Stella as she drove toward the Banks’ house.
“Let’s confront Burt and Juanita with his lack of an alibi together if we can. Then see how things shake out.”
Mattie parked behind Juanita’s car, but Burt’s truck wasn’t anywhere nearby. “Looks like he might not be here.”
She checked Robo in the rearview mirror, and he met her gaze, looking expectantly back at her. He seemed to have mastered the art of watching her with the mirror. “You’re going to stay here,” she told him, speaking to his reflection.
They exited the car, went to the front door, and knocked. Eyes bloodshot, Juanita answered within a few moments.
“Oh, come in,” she said in a weak voice. Her shoulders rounded, she led them through the kitchen toward the living room. “I was cleaning Candace’s room.”
The scene had been released that morning. �
�That must be hard,” Stella said. “Is there anyone who could help you?”
“No, I want to do it myself.”
“Is Mr. Banks here?”
Juanita shook her head, settling onto the sofa and staring at the coffee table. “He left.”
“Where did he go?” Stella asked.
“Who knows? Probably headed to the Hornet’s Nest in High-tower. He’s never here when I need him.”
Stella sent Mattie a quick glance as they each took a seat. “I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes. Are your boys here at the house?”
“They’re next door at Rosie’s.”
“I imagine this has been a rough day for you all.”
With a heavily lined face and downturned mouth, Juanita showed the ravages of her grief. “Yes. The boys wanted to go to school, but both of them had to come home by noon.”
“And you say Mr. Banks isn’t around to help much,” Stella said.
“Since he took the job in Rigby, it’s like an excuse to never come home.”
“It’s hard to commute that far.”
“Others do it, and they make it work.”
Stella nodded, leaning forward. “Is Mr. Banks involved with the children?”
Fresh tears came to Juanita’s eyes. “No. I told him this morning that I didn’t buy his act that he’s lost his baby girl. He’s never had anything to do with Candace.”
Probably left right after that discussion, Mattie thought.
“Why is that?” Stella asked.
“It’s just the way he is. He doesn’t care.”
“Did he at one time?”
Juanita shrugged. “Not really.”
“Last night you indicated that he has a problem with alcohol,” Mattie said.
Juanita nodded.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Years. Since before the boys were born.”
“Is he violent when he drinks?” Stella asked.
“No, he’s even more withdrawn if anything. He usually stays away until late, and when he comes home, he falls into bed and goes to sleep.”
“Have you ever noticed him being abusive to the kids?”
Though Mattie tried to sit still, Stella’s question made her cringe. Even mention of the possibility of Burt abusing Candace sent her back to her own tiny bedroom, its walls closing in on her when she heard the door squeak, a signal heralding her father’s nighttime visits.
“If you count neglect as abuse, I would say so,” Juanita answered.
“How about physical abuse?” Stella asked.
Juanita shook her head, her eyes sad. “No, that’s one thing I’ve never been concerned about. That would’ve made a huge difference, and I would have left him years ago. But until recently, I needed his paycheck to make ends meet. Now he doesn’t even bring home much of that.”
“Because of the drinking?” Mattie asked.
Juanita nodded. “He says he stops at the bar to unwind. He’s spending his paycheck somewhere.”
Workers made pretty good wages at the mine in Rigby. Burt would need a huge bar tab to spend it all. “Where else might he spend his money?”
Juanita shook her head, avoiding eye contact. “I have no idea.”
Both Mattie and Stella waited, but Juanita didn’t jump in to fill the gap with speculation.
“Have you ever seen any sign that Candace might have been molested?” Stella asked.
Juanita’s eyes widened. “No! Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Not by your husband?”
“Absolutely not. I would know about it. I wouldn’t allow it.”
Mattie felt ill. What role had her mother played? Had she known what was going on behind closed doors?
“Are you sure, Mrs. Banks? Take a moment and think back over the years. Is it possible?” Stella asked.
Juanita appeared to be examining her memory. She sat very still, her eyes moving slightly side to side. “No. I’m telling you. I can’t imagine him molesting a child, even when he’s been drinking. Why are you asking me this?”
“We’ve uncovered evidence that Candace was sexually active,” Stella said. “Were you aware of it?”
Surprise filled Juanita’s face. “She’s only thirteen.”
Stella nodded but remained silent.
Juanita put her hand to her mouth. “And you think that Burt . . . No. I still say he’d never molest a child. He might be a poor father and a worse husband, but he’s not a child molester.” She looked from Stella to Mattie. “Who? Who was Candace involved with?”
“Local boys, Mrs. Banks,” Stella said. “More than one. I can’t release their names.”
Juanita rocked forward, collapsing upon herself. “How could this be true? What kind of a mother am I that I didn’t know?”
Her shock appeared genuine. Mattie knew that Juanita worked two jobs, and she could only guess how hard it would be to raise children under those circumstances, especially when you had no help from your partner. “You work at two different places in town, Mrs. Banks, and your husband works out of town. I suppose your children are here alone after school?” She turned it into a question so that it wouldn’t sound like an accusation.
“When Candace turned twelve, I started giving her an allowance to watch the boys and give them a snack. She seemed responsible enough . . .” Her voice trailed off, unsure.
“Had you noticed changes in Candace’s behavior?” Stella asked.
Stress filled Juanita’s face, and she covered it with her hands. “It didn’t start at home, her sleeping around. It didn’t start here.”
“That’s possible, but we need to know,” Stella said.
“Oh, my God,” Juanita groaned, and she covered her mouth as sobs shook her body.
Mattie felt herself detach. She couldn’t handle this kind of pain. This mother’s view of her daughter had been shattered, but was Juanita also partially responsible? Mattie had been too young when her own family split to remember the dynamics between her mother and father. Had her mother tried to put a stop to the abuse? Had she tried to protect her? Or had she been blind to the signs, as Juanita seemed to have been?
With a jolt, Mattie realized that maybe her mother had tried to protect her. Maybe that’s what had caused the escalation in that final argument the night her father tried to kill her mother. Maybe her mother loved her after all. But then, why had she disappeared?
Catching herself, she fell back on a familiar mechanism and shut down her feelings so that she could regain her focus. This investigation isn’t about me.
Juanita brought herself back under control. “I’m sorry. I can’t talk about this anymore.”
“All right,” Stella said. “Think about what we’ve said, and let me know if you come up with further thoughts. We also need to speak with Mr. Banks again. Would you call me and let me know when he comes home?”
Juanita nodded, her face taking on a fierce look. “If you find out he’s hurt my children in any way, will you tell me?”
Stella seemed to be observing the mother closely as she stood. “We’ll be discussing these things together.”
Like Stella, Mattie rose from her seat, but Juanita remained huddled on the couch.
“Can I call someone to come be with you?” Stella asked.
“No. No, I need to just sit here a moment.” Juanita stared out the window.
“We’ll let ourselves out.”
When they stepped onto the porch, the Banks brothers were coming out of the neighbor’s house and heading toward home. Mattie slowed to say hello, but both boys gave her a shy look as they passed, saying nothing.
Before climbing inside her Explorer, Mattie had a thought. “Let’s go talk with Rosie Gonzales.”
Stella pursed her lips, looking out the windshield at the neighbor’s house. “Okay. Do you want to take lead on this one?”
“Sure.”
Together they walked next door, crossed the sidewalk that split a tidy yard filled with flower beds, and went u
p the steps onto the porch of a small clapboard house with dark-green siding and newly painted white shutters. Mattie knocked on the door.
Rosie Gonzales looked surprised to see them standing on her doorstep. “Yes?”
“Could we come inside and speak with you for just a few minutes, Mrs. Gonzales?” Mattie asked.
Rosie glanced toward the Banks house but then opened the door wide. “Of course.”
The house opened directly into a living room, where a boy and girl about the same age as the Banks brothers sat watching an episode of a game show. The room seemed cozy, well lit with floor and table lamps, and a bowl containing a handful of leftover popcorn sat on the coffee table in front of the children.
“Turn off the television and go to your rooms to finish your homework,” Rosie said. Perhaps it was Mattie’s uniform, but both children took one look at her and did as they were asked without protest.
“Please, sit,” Rosie said, taking a seat in a deep armchair with mauve cushions, while Mattie and Stella sat on the matching sofa. “How can I help?”
“First let me say I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure Candace’s death came as a huge shock,” Mattie said. “Did you know her well?”
Tears brimmed Rosie’s eyes, but she held them in check. “I’ve known all those kids since they moved in next door.”
“And when was that?”
Rosie appeared to think. “About three years now. My kids were just starting school. Candace was a little older than the others, and she didn’t come to play like the boys did. But she was always sweet to my kids.”
“Did Candace have friends over while her parents were at work?”
“No, not really. Not that I noticed. Sometimes the older kids drive their cars up and down the street, but I just step outside and work in my yard. They drive away.”
Mattie liked the woman’s version of neighborhood watch. “Do you know anything about Mr. Banks having a drinking problem?”
Tightening her lips, Rosie nodded slowly. She looked down at the arm of the chair she was sitting in and brushed at the nap on its upholstery. Mattie was afraid she wasn’t going to say anything more, but then she spoke. “Burt spends most of his paycheck on booze and other women. It’s a sad situation.”
Other women?
Hunting Hour Page 10