Because mothers and daughters share everything.
Mercy’s lungs contracted at the thought of the mother she hadn’t spoken with in fifteen years.
Arleen hasn’t spoken with her daughter in the same amount of time. Look what it’s done to her.
She wondered if her mother’s eyes looked half as haunted as Arleen’s.
I’m not dead. A big difference.
“Was Jennifer friends with Teresa Cooley?” Truman asked, and Mercy straightened a fraction, interested to hear the Sanderses’ opinion of Teresa.
The couple looked at each other. “I don’t remember that name, do you?” Arleen said to John. He shook his head. “Is she a suspect?” Arleen asked Truman.
“No. Just a woman who had a relationship with your daughter we’re trying to understand. If you don’t remember her, then their friendship must have been casual.”
“I knew all of Jennifer’s friends,” Arleen stated.
Mercy wondered if Arleen truly believed that. “Did you notice anything missing from Jennifer’s things after the murder? I know there was money and weapons missing. Did you discover anything later?”
The couple looked at each other, frowning as they tried to remember. “You said you couldn’t find that photo of Jennifer in her prom dress,” John finally prompted Arleen.
She turned back to the investigators. “That’s right. Jennifer’s prom photo was missing. She’d kept it on her dresser for years. It was a lovely picture. She told me she liked it because she looked skinny.” She leaned forward to Mercy and said in a hushed voice, “She put on some weight after high school.”
Mercy didn’t know how to answer that and simply nodded.
“Who was her prom date?” asked Truman.
“She didn’t have one. She and several girlfriends—your sister included—went in a group with some boys. I thought it was a good way to do it.”
“The picture was of the whole group?” clarified Mercy.
Arleen nodded, staring off into the distance. “I remember your sister Pearl and Gwen Vargas were there, even though Gwen was younger. They allowed all high school grades to go to the prom, not just seniors. I can’t remember any of the boys who went.”
And Gwen Vargas had a photo album missing. I wonder if it included the same photo.
“Was anything else missing?” Truman asked. Mercy had felt his intensity increase when John mentioned the photo.
The couple gazed at each other again and finally shook their heads. “The prom photo could have simply gotten lost before she was killed,” said Arleen. “Or maybe the frame broke or it got ruined somehow. I don’t know why anyone would take it.”
Truman and Mercy asked a few more questions. They simultaneously came to the conclusion that the Sanderses had provided all the information they could. They said their good-byes, gave more condolences, and left their cards behind.
Mercy checked her e-mail as they got in Truman’s vehicle. “Eddie spent the evening talking to some of Enoch Finch’s relatives. Remember how they cleaned out his house after his death? Eddie doesn’t think he got any useful information. None of these relatives had spoken with Enoch in over six months.”
“But they were quick to claim his belongings. Or sell them.”
Mercy snorted. “In this e-mail, Eddie calls them scavengers.”
“What did you think of the Sanderses?” Truman asked as he focused on the road.
“They make me sad. How awful to only have pictures of your daughter for memories. The missing prom picture was interesting, but like she said, it could have been destroyed and disposed of before the murder.”
“My sister kept her prom picture for at least ten years,” said Truman. “How about you?”
“I didn’t go. I’m surprised Pearl got to go. Our parents kept a pretty tight handle on us girls.”
“Not on your brothers?”
“No. They were men . . . able to defend themselves.”
“That’s old-fashioned.”
“Tell me about it.”
Silence filled the vehicle, pressing on Mercy’s lungs, making her wish she were anywhere else than next to this overly observant man.
“That was a gorgeous view out at the lake today,” said Truman. “It does me good to see sights like that. Makes me thankful for where I live.”
The pressure on her chest vanished. “It was.”
“We’ll have to get up there again before you go back to Portland.”
“No doubt we’ll have to go up to the cave for some reason,” Mercy replied, checking her phone again. They rode on in silence.
It wasn’t until after Truman dropped her off that his words echoed in her head.
Was he referring to work when he said, “get up there again”?
She froze with one foot in the air as she changed into heavy-duty hiking boots.
Of course he was.
His simple statement haunted her for the next hour.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“Why is your sister in town?”