by A Wallace
Curious, Murphy studied her profile. “How do they know you?”
“Uhm, I’m kinda well known.” Charley peered off into the distance.
“Why?”
“Long story.” Her jaw twitched, ignoring the barrage of questions from the reporters. The name Sinclair exploded in her ear.
Murphy arched his brow, clicking his mouth. “Hmm, can’t wait to hear it.”
“Dream on.”
Murphy opened his suitcoat, revealing his ID attached to his belt.
She rang the doorbell twice.
The door opened as if in slow motion. A slender, dark-haired man with chocolate eyes said, “Yes?”
“Mr. Senters?” Charley said as they showed their IDs.
“No, I’m William Blanton. I live across the street.”
“Mr. Blanton, we’re Agents Faraday and Murphy with the FBI. We would like to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Senters and Emma Gibson.”
“Come in, they’re in the den.”
In the foyer, the grand staircase wound up to the left. Mr. Blanton motioned for them to follow him through the French doors leading into the great room. As their heels clattered on the oak floors, Murphy glanced at Charley. Her expression vacant, her mouth relaxed. He wasn’t sure she blinked.
Three adults, one holding an infant, sat in the roomy den with high ceilings. To the rear, a large kitchen with mounds of colorful bowls scattered on the counters.
Vertical blinds covered the sliding glass door leading to the back yard. Brocade drapes shielded two tall windows preventing a view out front.
Mr. Blanton introduced the individuals in the room. He pointed to a man sitting on the loveseat. “This is Steven, Robin’s father.” Mr. Blanton’s upturned hand directed them to a woman cradling a baby in an aging oak rocking chair. “Bonnie, Robin’s mother.” He shifted his stance right, waving his hand. “This is Emma Gibson, Robin’s aunt and Bonnie’s sister.” Mr. Blanton stepped back. “Excuse me.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
Steven wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “Please, take a seat.”
Charley sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Emma while Bonnie continued rocking the infant. Murphy settled between the two women.
Emma’s hands shook each time she wiped her eyes with a tissue wadded in her hand. Much like Robin, her blazing red hair shielded her alabaster face dotted with freckles.
Charley folded her hands in her lap. “Mr. and Mrs. Senters, Emma, I want to extend our sympathies.”
The Senters nodded. Emma bowed her head.
Charley reached into her pocket removing the voice recorder. “May I record our interview to ensure integrity?”
Steven cleared his throat. “Yes, how can we help you?”
Charley gazed at Emma. “First, I’d like to speak with Emma.”
Not to obstruct Charley’s view Murphy reclined on the sofa.
“Sure, anything,” Emma said.
“You were at the school two weeks ago, the night Robin vanished?”
Emma nodded, sniffed, and dabbed her nose with a tissue. “Yes, I didn’t go with her to the restroom as I do most of the time. The one damn time.” She slammed her fists on her knees. “We enjoyed these little water fights, flicking water at each other. Playing.” She closed her eyes as her face twisted. “I stayed behind to help the costume department.” Emma’s voice weakened, until she could only whimper, “I should’ve. If I had, Robin would be home. I love her so much.” Emma grabbed more tissues from a box on the end table and wiped her eyes and nose.
“In the weeks prior, did Robin mention anyone new to any of you?” Charley parked her eyes on each family member. “Someone she hadn’t mentioned before, maybe an adult?”
The three of them shook their heads.
“How about a new friend?” Murphy said.
Bonnie cradled the infant up to her shoulder. “No, Robin’s had the same friends since kindergarten.” She rubbed the baby’s head and back. Her eyes watered as she kissed the infant’s head. “This is Robert’s first day home. His bilirubin levels were too high.”
Charley turned to Murphy. “Jaundice.”
He nodded. Charley continued the interview. “Did Robin mention being afraid or bothered by anyone?”
Steven clumped his sepia hair around his fingers. “No, if anyone bothered her or anything, she would’ve told us.”
“Emma, the night Robin went missing, she seemed fine? Nothing out of the ordinary? Any unusual emotions or behavior?” Charley said.
Emma’s deep breath wavered. “No, Robin was Robin. Sounds silly, but you had to know her. She was a happy kid.”
Charley directed her next question at Bonnie. “How did she respond to strangers?”
“Robin wouldn’t leave with a stranger.” Bonnie brushed her red hair from her eyes.
Feet thumped around the kitchen corner. Murphy and Charley switched their focus to the thudding footfalls. Justin Wilkerson stood at the kitchen counter. He smiled, waved, and ran away. Charley and Murphy glanced at each other and shrugged.
“Several of our neighbors and family are in the rec room,” Steven said. “That was Justin.”
“We met him,” Charley said.
Murphy tilted his head, observing the three family members. He studied Emma as his eyes roamed to Robin’s school photo on the mantle. The cogs in the analytic centers of his mind spun. “You live here as well?”
“Yes,” Emma said.
“You were Robin’s primary caregiver?”
“Well, no, I helped care for Robin and now Robert.”
“Do you work, Emma?” Charley said.
“I’m a hair stylist.”
“Emma, how long have you lived here?”
“Since my divorce, nine years ago.”
“Nine years.” Charley nodded. “Mr. and Mrs. Senters, would you object to us visiting Robin’s room? It may help.”
Steven rubbed the corners of his eyes. “My daughter’s room is upstairs at the end of the landing.”
“You’re welcome to join us,” Charley said.
“It’s okay,” Bonnie said.
Charley and Murphy stood at the same time. “Thank you,” they echoed, returning the voice recorder to her pocket.
Steven escorted them to the foyer, saying nothing while motioning towards the stairs.
Charley glided in front of Murphy as if protecting him. “Thank you, Mr. Senters. If we need anything we’ll ask.”
Steven wiped his eyes with the balls of his hands. He nodded, dragging his feet as he returned to the den. “Take your time.”
Chapter 5
Family Secrets
Reston, VA – Glade Hill Estates - Braelynn Drive
Senters’ Residence - 1:30 PM
The second floor landing had six doors surrounding a spacious central foyer. Charley stood at a bedroom on the right. No photos, books, nothing. She shrugged. “Humph.” A few steps further, another door. She opened it and peeked inside, finding an array of towels and bedding folded on the shelves.
Across the vestibule, on the left, decorated in many shades of blue, was the nursery, with a white crib in front of a pair of windows, the curtains printed with colorful toy trains. Murphy leaned on the doorjamb, arms crossed, fixating on the crib. He imagined baby Robin, sleeping, safe and warm. On her back, wiggling her cherub lips, she would offer a yawn, stretch, and cry out to those who love her. Small teeth marks indented the crib rail. Murphy turned away and rubbed his eyes.
Beside the nursery, an exquisite master bedroom with expensive art adorned the walls. At the door, Charley studied the layout. “Murphy, I need to step inside for a moment.”
“Why?”
Charley glanced over her shoulder as she entered the room. “Curious.” She turned left through another door.
Aggravated by her disregard, Murphy leaned against the wall next to the door, clinking the keys in his pocket, exploring the elaborate and intricate designed ceiling of architectural molding. His focus remained unbroken un
til clanking echoed from the other side of the wall as if Charley had dropped an item on the floor.
Dismissing the clatter, he recalled the first time he and Charley went to dinner in Charlottesville. After a long day spent pouring over investigative and forensic reports, their stomachs sang in unison, reminding them they hadn’t eaten since early morning. Murphy suggested they dine together while discussing the case. After an amiable debate, she relented. The woman who sat across from him that night wasn’t the same person on the other side of the wall.
Ankles crossed, he tapped the edge of his shoe at a rapid pace, returning to last September. After requesting assistance from the FBI, a message came through specifying an Agent Charley Faraday would assist him in the case. A bomb dropped on his head when a petite, blonde-haired woman with vivid emerald eyes stood before him smiling. His eyebrows lifted with approval.
Charley returned to the hallway. Without a word, she passed him, and continued across the hall to the full bath. Once inside, she peered at him through the opening as she closed the door, shutting him out.
Rejection set in as he paced the hallway, mumbling to release his frustration. He flipped his hand into the air dismissively and once again, leaned against the wall next to the door.
Ten minutes later, the doorknob creaked. He pushed away from the wall, exhibiting an air of indifference as she waved for him to follow. His hands crammed in his pockets, she continued her stride. He shook his head, caught up to her and hindered her progress by stepping in front of her. “Care to explain?”
“No.”
Inside Robin’s room, Charley slid to the side to allow Murphy to enter. He closed the door with his elbow while she scanned the room. “This reminds me of my childhood room.” Charley reached into her pocket, grabbed a pair of black vinyl gloves, and wiggled her hands into them. He did the same.
“You were messy?” He pictured Robin sitting at the desk, drawing in the sketchpad laying on the desk.
Charley chuckled. “Worse, why use tabletops or shelves when I had a floor and a bed?”
“And now?”
“No way, you can drink the water from the commode.”
He continued his visual sweep of the room. “Good to know. Not that I want to drink from your toilet.” Scattered on the floor were clothes, books, and art supplies. “We’ll need a bulldozer and the health department to clear the room for human occupation.”
“Did you catch they arrived home with their infant son today, and soon after they were notified their daughter is dead?” A painful habit, she snapped the cuffs of the gloves.
“Maybe I’m being too critical, but they didn’t seem as distraught as I’d expect.” He placed his hand on his chest. “If she were my daughter, I would need enough tranquilizers to put down an elephant.”
“Coincidence.”
“Beyond coincidence, or am I being too judgmental?”
She shrugged. “It’s part of your job.”
“I felt like an asshole.”
“You’re just realizing that?”
Murphy rolled his eyes and turned away.
At the desk, Charley thumbed through an artist sketchpad, focusing on each drawing. Her task complete, she backed away, moving the clutter with her foot. She stopped when she came to an empty easel at the end of the bed.
Murphy stepped over to the nightstand, picking up a handmade frame speckled with glitter and sequins. He grinned and snickered recalling the days of harassing his twin sister, Sela, for making silly girl crap. One rainy afternoon, at the age of twelve, Murphy snuck into Sela’s bedroom, stole most of her glitter, and slung it all over the front lawn, hoping the blame went to her. After some serious discipline by his parents, reluctant, he apologized accepting revenge was ahead. Two weeks later, he and his friends planned a paintball match. Careful with his weapons, Murphy kept them in a case. At a neighborhood park, in front of his friends, he opened the lid housing his shotgun. Painted with pink and purple glitter, he raised the camouflage weapon with a single response, “She got the purple right.” After chuckling Murphy mumbled, “I love my sister.”
Charley whipped around. “What?”
“Nothing, childhood memory.” A handmade photo frame sat on the nightstand. He flipped the picture in her direction, tapping on the edge. “Hey, Faraday, is he familiar?”
She scooted to Murphy’s side and grinned. “Justin, such a cutie pie.”
He placed the keepsake back in its place.
She returned to the desk to examine the photos until one caught her attention. Exasperation escaped from her lips. “Oh, my, gawd,” she whispered, shoving the frame at him. “Look at this. Unbelievable.”
He studied the snapshot depicting Robin dressed in her softball uniform. Her arms were snug around the waist of a heavyset, bald man. “I don’t understand.”
Charley’s eyes widened, her voice questioning. “Don’t you see it, Murphy?”
“No, I don’t. I assume he’s her softball coach.”
She pointed at the man’s arm in the picture. “His wrist.”
He flipped his hand. “It’s a tattoo, so what?”
“Ever seen one like it?”
“Sure.”
Concern rippled across Charley’s face. “Where?”
He shrugged. “It’s a butterfly, so?”
“It’s not any butterfly.”
“Tell me.”
Charley glanced at the bedroom door. “Let’s wait until we leave.”
He handed her the frame. “You ready to go downstairs?”
“Yes.” With the picture frame in hand, she turned to leave, motioning for him to join her. At the baby’s room, she paused. “Hang on a second, I want to check something.”
“What?”
“I want the brand name of the changing table.”
“Why?”
She presented her palms, walking backwards into the nursery. “I won’t be long, wait here.”
A few minutes later, she reappeared. “C’mon, let’s go make nice.”
In the den, the Senters awaited their return.
Charley nodded for Murphy to stand with her, she held up the frame, pointing at the picture. “Who is this man?”
“Gerald Leeds, Robin’s softball coach,” Steven said.
“Gerald Leeds,” Charley mumbled. “May I borrow this photo?”
“Yes, but why?” Bonnie continued to rock the infant. “Gerald is a wonderful man. He’s great with the girls.”
“We want a copy for our historical records.” Charley chewed her lower lip. “I’ll return it by mail.”
Bonnie shrugged. “If it’s necessary.”
Charley handed Robin’s father the frame. “Would you remove the picture, please?”
He did as Charley requested and returned the photo to her.
Charley removed a zip-lock bag from her lower left cargo pocket. “Thank you, Mr. Senters.” She slipped the photo into the bag and sealed it. “Agent Murphy, we need to go.”
“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Senters.” He nodded in their direction. “Ms. Gibson, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Steven said as the three adults escorted Murphy and Charley to the foyer.
Clomping footfalls thudded from the kitchen. As the pounding steps thundered, a voice resounded across the house. “Miss Faraday, Mr. Murphy.” Justin charged towards them.
Charley smiled and waved. “Hello, Justin.”
“I want to give you something. Hold out your hands.” Justin placed an item into each of their palms.
“It’s an eight,” Charley said.
“No, turn it sideways. It’s the forever sign.” Justin beamed.
“The infinity symbol.” Charley played with the talisman in her hand.
“Yeah, that thing.” Justin pointed. “Robin and I made those last summer. It’s our friendship symbol. She wore hers on a rope necklace. Mine is on my key ring. These are yours. The purple is for Miss Faraday. The green one is for you, Mr. Murphy.”
Murphy sc
rutinized the three adults leaving the foyer into the den, disappearing around the corner into the kitchen. “Justin, are you sure about this? They belong to you and Robin.”
“You don’t get it, these are extras. Robin wore hers every day.”
Charley clasped the pendant on her necklace. “Justin, was Robin wearing the necklace the last time you were together?”
“Yes.”
She turned to Murphy with an inquisitive stare.
“You’re sure?” Murphy said.
Justin nodded his head hard. “When we walked home from school she had it on. I saw it.” He reached inside his pocket and pulled out his key ring. “This is mine. I thought since it’s green, Mr. Murphy gets the green one, and Robin’s is purple, so this one is for you, Miss Faraday.”
She wrapped her fingers around the handmade charm. “I’ll treasure it.”
Justin’s eyes glossed. “I don’t want you to forget Robin.”
Murphy squeezed his shoulder. “That’ll never happen.”
“Same here,” Charley said.
“I want you to find who hurt her.” Justin’s head dropped.
“We’ll do our best.” Murphy turned to consider Charley. “We should go.”
“Wait, did the man...” Justin bowed his head.
Murphy and Charley understood his fears. Murphy stepped closer to him, placed his hand on the lad’s shoulder, Justin’s eyes watered.
“Did that man hurt her in the bad way? You know the really wrong way?”
Speechless, Murphy pondered the answer. Charley stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his young shoulders, and whispered, “We don’t know.” Her hug reassuring, Justin let go.
“I don’t think I want to know.”
“Don’t worry Justin. We will find the person who did this.”
They said their goodbyes to Justin and left.
Outside the house, journalists extended their microphones yelling Charley’s name and photographers’ cameras flashed. The police pushed them back from the Senters home.
With a sideways glance at the reporters, she growled deep, “Keep moving.”
∞ ∞ ∞
Seated in the truck, both released a powerful sigh. Murphy turned towards Charley. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
“Bonnie isn’t Robin’s mother, Emma is.” She glanced out the window. “Robin knew.”