“HowisTayler?” Patsy’s sounding a bit forlorn.
“She’s holding up.” I checked on her right before I changed out of my uniform. She’d been crying, but she seemed to be okay. “You all just need to head home and let this process play out.”
“This ‘process’”—Robbi uses air quotes—“is bullshit.”
“Uh-huh.” I start to walk away from the group because the direction Robbi’s heading isn’t going to help anyone.
“Just tell us why you think she did it.” I’m not sure which woman asks the question. My guess would be Patsy.
Turning back around, I see the worry on all their young faces. “I’m not at liberty to say much, but I can say there was an eyewitness.”
One by one, their expressions change from worry to something completely different.
“Bullshit.” Robbi again.
“Ladies, that’s all I can say for now. The detective in charge of the case is Dan Trumbull.”
“But you’re going to help, right, Gage?” Katherine Kramer, better known as Kat, steps forward. “Quinn would want you to help find therealkiller.”
These Beedle Babes, as Quinn calls them, have all got the impression that Quinn and I have some sort of special friendship. We don’t. Sure, my heart sort of did a little flip-flop when I first met Quinn, but that lasted until the day I metthe boyfriend. She’s got someone in her life, and she seems happy. That’s all there is to it. Still, I care about Quinn. I probably always will. She’s unique. Special. Beautiful. I’ve got more adjectives I could use to describe her, but why bother? That ship has sailed. I missed my chance with her. Period.
“I’m assisting on the case.” At least according to my captain, and much to my chagrin. Like I said, I’m too close to this one.
“So you’ll find therealkiller,” Kat states, again, like it’s a done deal.
It’s not.
I blink at the women, wondering what I need to say to get them out of here. I’m tired and so damn hungry having worked a double shift thanks to the murder of Kara Becker.
With a sigh, I place my hands on my hips. I might as well take advantage of the fact they’re all there. Hell, if Quinn were here in the States, I’m afraid she’d be sitting in the station for questioning as well. I may as well ask them a few. “Let me ask you all something. When was the last time you each saw Kara Becker?”
There’s a backstory here that needs to be addressed. These women—Patsy and Susanna, in particular—have known Kara for years. Their mom works for her father. Kara was supposed to live with this group of women in their rental on Beedle Drive here in Ames. Instead, Quinn moved in, which infuriated Kara. The two were at odds for a while. So much so that Kara destroyed Quinn’s scooter and was undeniably out to get Quinn. All of it forced Kara’s father to drag her out of Ames, promising everyone that she’d transfer to another school. Apparently, that didn’t happen.
“When didwesee Kara last?” asks Lindsay.
I nod. “When was the last time each of you saw Kara?”
“I haven’t seen her since she moved back home,” Lindsay answers first.
“We”—Patsy points to her little sister—“saw her when we went home the last time.”
“When was that?” I reach up to grab my notebook, but I’m not wearing my uniform, only my old army tee. Pulling out my phone, I open my Notes application, then look up at Patsy, waiting for her response.
“March?” she asks, looking at her sister.
“Yeah, spring break,” Susanna replies.
“Right,” Patsy says, nodding.
“I’ll come back to that.” I say to the sisters. Turning to Robbi, I ask. “What about you, Robbi? Did you know Kara Becker was back in town?”
Surprisingly, Robbi’s quiet. But only for a second. “I saw her. At Cy’s.”
I can’t help noticing the looks on the other women’s faces. They’re obviously surprised to hear that Robbi had seen her in town.
I look down at my phone and type, asking, “When?”
“Last weekend.”
