“Unlike you, I’m focused on my job and have been all day.”
Not responding to my jab, he presses the bell. “It’s all yours, kid. I’ll only jump in as needed.”
Thank fuck.
While waiting, I study the front of the house, noting no signs of forced entry. No visible security cameras either.
A middle-aged woman cracks open the door, leaving the chain in place. She speaks through the narrow opening. “Can I help you?”
I paste on a congenial smile to ease her visible apprehension. “Afternoon, ma’am. I’m Special Agent Reed Hayes, and this is Special Agent Warren Andrews. We’re with the FBI.” We flash our badges. “Are you Janet Ross?”
“Yes.”
“We’re taking over the investigation from the sheriff’s office. Mind if we come inside to ask you a few questions?”
She unlocks the chain and ushers us in. “The detective told me you might stop by.”
Once inside the residence, I assess the space. Bullet holes in the living room wall stand out.
Wringing her hands, she faces us timidly. “Would you like something to drink?”
After we decline her offer, the three of us sit at the kitchen table. True to his word, Andrews lets me guide the interaction.
I pull out the case folder and my notepad. “We know you’ve already been through your story with the sheriff’s office, but we like to conduct our own interview. Sorry for making you relive it again.”
Mrs. Ross puts on a brave face, tipping it upward in a show of strength. “I’m willing to do anything that might help you catch those monsters so they don’t hurt anyone else.”
With my pen poised near the top of a blank notebook page, I meet her eyes. “Start at the beginning and walk us through what happened that day. Anything you can remember.”
“It was like every other morning. I put my granddaughter on the school bus around seven fifteen. When I returned, I went into the kitchen to refill my coffee.” She pauses to visibly swallow.
I take the opportunity to interject for clarity. “You were home alone, correct?”
“Yes. Dana was at work.”
“And Dana is who?”
“My daughter.”
“And did you lock the door behind you?”
She shakes her head, obviously regretting her actions. “No. I was going to be leaving for yoga class shortly, so I didn’t bother.”
“Understood.” I nod, encouraging her to continue with the story. “So you got some coffee and then what?”
“When I left the kitchen, I noticed the front door was partially open. I assumed I didn’t close it all the way, so I walked over to secure it. That’s when I saw him.”
“Where was he standing?” I ask, gesturing toward the foyer.
Her eyes slam shut, and shudders run through her, making her upper body tremble.
“Take your time,” Andrews soothes. “We know this is difficult.”
Once she’s ready, she affixes her gaze on a spot over my left shoulder. “Right there in the hallway. He was ahuge, hulking man. Considering the ski mask, gloves, and dark clothes covering his entire body, I knew he wasn’t here for anything good.”
She doesn’t continue, seemingly lost in her thoughts. Likely a trauma response.
I gently prod her. “And then what happened?”
