Mindfield (Sideways Eight Book 1) (5 page)

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 until 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 scrutinized 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.”

“Tell me why you believe this.”

“The labeled sketches showed an adult male which would be Steven, two women, Emma and Bonnie, and a female child, Robin. Emma is always next to the child.”

He rubbed his chin and leaned closer to her. “This is why you went into the master bedroom.”

She nodded. “The extra bedroom is unused.”

“We think alike…”

“Don’t insult me. This is an unconventional family. Those three share the same bed.”

“Emma is Bonnie’s sister. That’s just…” Murphy shook his head.

“In the master bathroom,” she held up three fingers, “three hairbrushes, white, green, and tortoiseshell. The last one is his.”

“How do you know?”

“Bonnie and Emma have red hair, brown for Steven.” She tipped her hands and shrugged. “Easy.” She made a V with her index and middle finger. “Two sets of women’s clothes in the closet. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Murphy keyed the ignition. “I’m suspicious. Emma displayed more emotional trauma. You say Robin knew, how?”

“She understood her family was different from others. They may be kids, but it doesn’t make them stupid.”

“Explains why she spent so much time at Justin’s.”

“Is Steven and Bonnie married?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what?”

“A copy of ‘The Book of Mormon’ was on the foyer table. It’s been over a hundred years since plural marriage has existed within the Church. Polygamous groups exist, but Latter-day Saints doesn’t recognize those sects. If any members practice polygamy, they are excommunicated.”