The little girl just kept chattering. Miranda was charmed. She was a smart kid, too. And she was relaxing. “You said you wanted to talk to me about the Gibson stuff?”
The little girl bit her bottom lip. A classic sign of indecision. “I found some of my cousin’s stuff. We have a really big family.”
“I do, too. Lots of cousins. All girls. Tell me about it, what you found. What about your cousin?”
“My cousin Kora died. Before I was even born. She was the oldest of us. She drowned.”
“What does Kora have to do with the Gibsons?”
“Kora and Hailey Gibson—you know, the big sister; I’ve studied the case extensively—Hailey and Kora were…they were best friends. For like forever. Hailey was there when my cousin died, I think. I found pictures at my grandma’s. Of Hailey and Kora and Terra. And she said she remembered the Gibsons. I asked her lots of questions and stuff. I was building a profile.” This was the littlest profiler Miranda had ever met. The girl went to her pocket and pulled something out. She handed it to Miranda. “I put them in sandwich baggies. In case they were evidence or stuff.”
Plastic sandwich baggies with the date and location they were found carefully written on the bag in marker. The kid was good at thinking about details.
Miranda looked at the small photos. There were three young girls—she was certain Hailey was on the left, and Terra in the middle. Miranda was sure it was Terra. And there was another blonde girl standing beside her who looked enough like Terra Gibson to be her twin, only older. Her hair was just several shades of blonde lighter. Much like the little girl with Miranda now. Asa resembled the girl quite strongly—except for size. Asa was small for thirteen. “Who exactly is this girl on the right?”
“That’s her. She’s my cousin Kora. Everybody says I look and act just like her. I never met her, though. Even B.J. wasn’t born yet when she died. And he’s almost seventeen.”
Miranda looked at the child in front of her. Yes, she could see the resemblance. To all three girls in that photo.
“I’m very sorry.” But Miranda was putting things together. This girl, Kora, had died. A few years before the Gibsons. Bryan had just said all of his brothers had been in the military at one time. She tried to remember—she didn’t think there were any records of interviews with Bryan’s brothers. That was something they might just need to correct—Bryan Stenson could be the way the Gibsons had come into contact with their killer.
“Yeah. Everybody said it really changed Uncle John. My cousin Katherine said he wasn’t weird until she died. Then he got weird. He's not very nice, and I do not like him at all. He also lost his son. Jack died. But Johnny was always sick, he was in a wheelchair and everything. His mom took care of him, but they divorced after Kora died, I think. She’s still really good friends with my mom and stuff. But not if Uncle John is around. We told dad, me and my brothers, we don’t want Uncle John coming to the house any more.”
“Tell me about your cousin. How did she die?” She was almost there—Miranda just needed to know a few more details. And this little girl really could be the key to finding their killer.
“Kora died a year after Jack, I think. She was at a picnic with our church. And she drowned. I think she hit her head, but maybe somebody pushed her off the dock and it was really murder? I didn’t want to ask anyone in my family, in case it hurt their feelings. But…I’ve read all the articles and stuff. Nobody talks about it very much. Mom told me all about Kora and Johnny after Uncle John was there the other day. I found this box of stuff at my grandma’s and had these pictures in it. Some of Kora’s things. I found her diary. She didn’t like her dad very much either, especially after Jack died. She wrote that he ignored her when Jack was alive and then tried to control her all the time after he died. And it made her really mad and they argued all the time. I have her diary. But it’s in my room at home. I didn’t want to lose it in the snow and it’s kind of big.”
She was silent for a moment. When she looked up again, there was confusion in the big blue eyes. Just a little girl trying to understand things that she shouldn’t have to even consider.
“There were bullets and stuff in the box. I took one of them. I know bullets can be important. Here.” She pulled another sandwich bag out of her coat pocket and handed it to Miranda. “It probably has my fingerprints on it, though. So I got my brother Devin to fingerprint me as a reference sample. I just told him I wanted to see what fingerprints really looked like under my microscope and he believed me. It’s right here. I didn’t want my grandma to see me take the bullet. Since it wasn’t mine. So I just had to grab it when she wasn’t looking.”
She had a small piece of poster board with fingerprints and two kid-sized handprints right there, folded carefully in the middle and in a zippered bag, with her name, age and address listed on the back.
Miranda had seen cops with less forethought and attention to detail than this kid. Miranda was definitely impressed. There was also a carefully labeled baggie, with a single bullet in it—a .38. Interesting. Just like the weapon they were looking for. It had been fired and had very nice striations. It would make comparison very easy. If it matched those taken from the Gibson scene, it was a new angle to go on. Because the little girl’s description of her uncle fit their profile almost too closely. “Thank you. This could be exactly what we’re looking for.”
“Then why did my Uncle John have it in his stuff?” The expression in her eyes told Miranda that Asa Stenson had started to put things together about her uncle. And was coming to a conclusion no child should have to make. “He really is weird, you know. No one wants him to come around, but my mom says dad feels an obligation to his brother. And the last time he was there at my house arguing with my mom, I think he called me Kora. He does that sometimes. But then I kind of think this time maybe he said Terra instead. I asked B.J. if he heard him, too, and he said Uncle John could have said Terra. We just aren’t sure. Why would he do that?”
Before Miranda could answer, the front door swung open and banged against the wall. Hard. Harder than any wind could have accomplished.
A man stood there. In army green, a wild look on the face that was very much like Bryan Stenson’s.
Chapter 40
Miranda stood, hand going to her weapon. She was never far away from it. She had learned that lesson too early. “Uncle John? Why are you here?” Asa asked.
“Whose blood is that? Are you injured? Is someone hurt outside?” Miranda put two and two together quickly, and she wanted his attention on her—not the little girl.
The man in front of her had Asa Stenson’s eyes. Blue. But empty. No, not empty. Angry. Very angry. Miranda shifted, getting closer to the young girl. Ten feet separated her from the child. And it was an additional eight feet or so to the open front door.
First order of business—get the little girl out of there. Miranda would deal with this man directly after that.
He stared at the little girl for a moment. His lips were working, but no sound was coming out. There was spittle at the corner of his mouth. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few weeks. His hair was wild and uncombed. His teeth were in poor condition. His entire demeanor was disheveled. This man did not have control. Not in the moment, not at all. And his face changed when he looked at his niece. “Asa, get outside. Get in my truck. I’m taking you with me.”
That was the last thing Miranda was ever going to let happen. “No. You are not. Whose blood is on you? Are you hurt?”
Asa moved closer to Miranda’s side—but further from the door. “Where is my dad? Uncle John?”
Miranda stepped toward her. She needed to get that girl outside. Bryan was on the property somewhere. The last thing she needed was for him to come rushing in looking for his daughter, with this man armed like he was. Miranda was rapidly putting it together. She was ninety-nine percent certain she’d just found their unsub.
