Mr. Kincaid jumped in again, cutting his wife off. “You don’t know what killed her? Then how do you know she was murdered?”
Taylor decided honesty was the best policy. “Shelby was found at the Parthenon, sir, with no clothes on and signs that she’d been raped. The scene felt staged. Until the tests are back, I’m afraid that’s as much as I know at this point. You’ll be the first to hear when we find something conclusive. Can you tell us a little bit about your daughter?”
Mr. Kincaid gave her a dirty look. “There’s nothing to know. Shelby was a good girl. She didn’t drink. She didn’t do drugs. She worked hard for her grades. She was on scholarship. What exactly are you asking?”
In spite of his escalating tone, Taylor gave him a reassuring smile. “Sir, I meant nothing by the remark. The better I know your daughter, the quicker I can find her killer. Do you know if she was seeing anyone, had a boyfriend at school?”
Mr. Kincaid jumped in quickly. “She didn’t have time for a boyfriend.”
His wife looked at Taylor and said softly, “She would have told me. We are—were—very close.” She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay in control. “When can we see our daughter, Lieutenant? When can we take her home?”
Shelby’s parents weren’t going to be much help. She got the feeling that even if Shelby did have a boyfriend, Mr. Kincaid wouldn’t know about it. Though she may have confided in her mother... Taylor made a mental note to follow up with her privately.
“I’ll have an officer take you to the medical examiner’s office. They won’t be able to release the b—Shelby until there is a definitive cause of death, but there are things that need to be taken care of. Marcus? Could you arrange to have Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid taken over to the ME’s office?” He nodded and left the room silently.
Taylor pulled a card out of her wallet. “I’ll probably need to speak with you again, at a more appropriate time, of course. In the meantime, if you think of anything that may be helpful, please call me.” She started to hand the card to Mrs. Kincaid, but Mr. Kincaid reached out and grabbed it.
“Thank you for your help, Lieutenant. We’d like to see our daughter now.”
“Of course, sir.”
Marcus stuck his head in and nodded. “I have an officer ready to escort you there.”
Taylor stood and put out a hand. Mr. Kincaid looked past it, but Mrs. Kincaid reached out, barely touching her fingers to Taylor’s. They were shaking.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” She followed her husband out.
Taylor sat back at the table, cradling her head in her hands. Marcus came back in and sat across from her.
“So, what do you think?”
“Well, I think Mrs. Kincaid knows more than she’s saying. Maybe we should take a run at her without her husband.”
“I agree,” Taylor said. “He shot the boyfriend issue down awfully quick. Maybe Shelby confided in her mother and left Daddy out of the loop. Let’s give them a few days. It’s possible Mrs. Kincaid will get in touch with us.”
“So what now?”
“What now? Let’s take the subpoena on over to Vandy and see what we can dig up about Shelby.”
10
Marcus was quiet on the drive to the campus, and Taylor let him stew in his thoughts until they reached the parking lot.
“What’s on your mind, Marcus?” There was no answer. “Helloo. Earth to Marcus.” She poked his knee and he jumped.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Taylor. Lost in my own little world.”
“And what’s happening in your little world?”
“I don’t know. I’m getting a weird vibe.”
“That narrows it down. Care to explain?”
He sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t really know. When we talked to Shelby’s parents, they seemed rather emphatic that she was all work and no play. Seems to me a preacher’s kid away from home for the first time may have gotten herself into a little bit of trouble here or there.”
“You’re probably right. Let’s go see if she’s really been their sweet little girl.”
The campus was lit with the colors of fall, fallen leaves strewn across the quads. It seemed serene, tranquil, untouched by the tragedy. Boys played football, and coeds watched them in admiration; students rode their bikes down the street, calling to one another. It was so bucolic, it almost made her nervous. Picture-postcard perfect—the calm before the storm. Clearly news hadn’t spread about the murder. Taylor didn’t know if she’d rather they panic or be unaffected.
They got out of the car and walked to Kirkland Hall, the college’s administration building. Sitting on a stone bench in front of the edifice was a man in his early forties. He had a thick mustache, matching light blond hair, and a shiny badge pinned to the front of his pristine tan uniform. Taylor groaned aloud. The man smiled and gave them a little wave. He didn’t get up, just sat with his legs spread wide in front of him, a small manila folder sitting quietly next to him.