as possible.”
She shuffled through some papers in the pile in front of her and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Darlene is off this shift. I have a copy of her preliminary report. The autopsy reports aren’t available yet but we hope to have them by tomorrow. Detective Davenport’s team has verified that the plastic bag we recovered from the Hendersons’ bedroom did contain five pounds of high-grade cocaine.”
“Five pounds?” Paul asked. “That’s not recreational use. The guy was a dealer.”
“Did they get any prints off the bag?” Tom asked.
“No prints. Not even Henderson’s. It was wiped clean.”
Sal looked puzzled. “That doesn’t sit right with me. No prints? Not even his own? Why would the guy wipe his prints off the bag before hiding it under his mattress? Did he have some kind of sixth sense that he was going to get raided or something?”
“Maybe he wore gloves,” Paul replied.
“Maybe,” Sal answered. “But if he wore gloves every time he handled the bag, then where are the gloves? We haven’t found any, have we?”
Liz scoured her evidence inventory sheets. “No gloves.”
“See.” Sal leaned back in his chair. “Something stinks and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Moving on.” Detective Davenport took over the lead. “Nothing significant has shown up in the Hendersons’ background check. Henderson was a model employee and well liked at his old job. They hated to see him leave but were happy for him when they heard he planned to start his own computer tech firm.”
“Anyone express any animosity about the move?” Tom asked. “Any signs of jealousy that the guy was going to run his own business?”
“Nothing that turned up in our initial interviews. Everyone seemed to sincerely wish him well. His boss not only gave him a letter of recommendation but was instrumental in helping him get his first client. Seems Third National Bank has a branch in Country Corners and was updating their computer software. Since his old firm holds the account, the boss threw the local business his way.”
“What about the boy’s school?” Paul asked. “Anyone talk to any of his teachers? Maybe the parents had a falling-out with another parent or something.”
“One of my men checked that out,” Davenport replied. “Jeremy had been in an Easter Seals special education preschool class when they lived in Tennessee. Kate chose to homeschool him once they moved here but not because of difficulties with the schools or parents. She just wanted to take a more hands-on approach to his education. She continued to take him to Poplar Bluff for occupational therapy three times a week.”
“Anyone know what brought them here in the first place?” Sal asked.
“I can answer that one,” Liz said. “Kate told me that she was born and raised in Poplar Bluff, which has grown quite a bit since she was a kid. They talked about it and wanted to settle somewhere a little more rural. They thought Country Corners would be the ideal suburban setting to raise children and yet still be close enough to take advantage of the things more populated areas had to offer.
“Kate’s mother has dementia and lives in a nursing home in Poplar Bluff. Our town is still close enough that she could take Jeremy for his therapy and visit her mom, too. Seemed like the ideal situation.”
“Didn’t work out quite the way they planned, did it?” quipped one of Davenport’s men, who was immediately censured with a glare from his superior.
“How about you, Sal? Got any leads?” Liz asked.
“On the surface, it’s a lovefest at this job, too. Everyone singing the boss’s praises. But we all know that nobody likes to speak ill of the dead. I did a little digging and I found out that Henderson fired a couple of people this past year. Don’t think they’ll be singing his praises when I interview them.”
Liz and Davenport absorbed the information and both nodded.
Brian Walker, one of the men on Davenport’s team, spoke up. “I read in this morning’s paper that the Henderson boy is being released today.”
Liz winced. She wished there was some legal way to muzzle the press. How was she supposed to run an investigation when every move was broadcast to the public? Didn’t the press know that killers read, too?
“Is that true?” Davenport asked. “Has anyone even talked to the boy yet? Does he know anything pertinent to our investigation?”
Liz spoke with authority. “Yes, it’s true that Jeremy is being released this afternoon. So far he has not been able to respond to any questions regarding the murders.”
“Released? Where? To whom?” Sal’s expression looked annoyed that she hadn’t shared this information with him earlier.
“Dr. Morgan is accompanying the boy to his home until we can make other arrangements.”
Liz sighed deeply and leaned back in her chair, steeling herself to deliver the rest of her news.
“We can’t ascertain yet if Jeremy witnessed the murder or not. But one thing we do know. That child saw his family lying dead. My goal is to bring the killer to justice and to help Jeremy feel safe again.”
“Are you sure he saw what happened?”
Liz answered Tom’s question. “The boy hasn’t spoken a word about the incident so we’re not sure yet what he witnessed, if anything at all.”
“If he did witness his family’s murder, how do you plan to keep him safe?” Sal asked. “I mean, once the killer reads the papers or hears on the news that he’s been released, what’s going to stop him from making a second run at the boy?”
“We are,” Liz answered, putting a don’t-dare-
question-me tone in her voice. “I will be arranging for 24-7 police protection.”
A low murmur traveled around the table.
Liz held up her hand for silence. “I know. Everyone’s been working double shifts as it is. We are a small department with a small staff. I understand.”
She glanced around the table. “I have a plan. Most of the coverage has already been arranged.” Liz turned her attention to Davenport. “My team and I will be able to cover most of the time slots. I’ll need to utilize your men on the graveyard shift so I can get some sleep. Can I count on you, Sergeant?”
“I’ll make it happen.”
“Thanks.” Liz took a breath and prepared herself for dropping her next bombshell. “Dr. Morgan and I will be moving into the residence with the child.”
Paul, who had been sipping coffee and eating doughnuts through the entire meeting, looked up. “You’re moving in, Sheriff? What does that mean?” Still looking a little sick, even five days after the incident, her youngest deputy scratched his head and looked puzzled. “Are you just sleeping over there or what?”
“I’ll be moving my office to the house. With computers, visual teleconferences
