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“Black is fine.”
She set a mug in front of him, then leaned her hips back against the countertop, clutching her own mug. “How is the girl?”
“Awake.” He swallowed a mouthful and winced. “I got the chance to talk to her early this morning. Marion had hercleaning and cooking, doing all the household stuff. She said Marion called her Cinderella and laughed about it.”
“So what changed?” There had to be a reason Marion had decided to get rid of the girl. She had a theory, given what she’d seen in that room, but wanted to know what the deputy thought.
“She told us she got her first period. Marion told her it was time to go to sleep.”
Kenna blew out a long breath. “That’s why she needs a new girl every few years.”
He studied her. “While I appreciate your assistance in saving this girl and allowing us to arrest Marion, no one needs you digging up something so painful for Forrest. I think you of all people would understand things need to fade into the past rather than being dragged up.”
“So you’ve got me figured all out.” Kenna took a sip of her coffee.
“Not hardly.” He set the mug down. “Marion Wells isn’t talking. At least not to us. The bodies of her victims need to be unearthed so the families can lay their loved ones to rest.”
“You’ve searched the house and the area around it?” Marion had a modest backyard, and no other properties. Maizie had checked into all that, but the deputy didn’t need to know. “What about her car?”
“Her property is being processed, but local search and rescue brought in cadaver dogs. There were no human remains found on her property. We believe the victims were transported in the trunk of Marion’s car. Whether that was bringing them to the house when she kidnapped them, or taking them to where she disposed of them, we aren’t sure.”
“You’ll find them.” If he thought she was going to be a nosy private investigator, then she would change his mind by not interfering with this part of their case. “If you want myhelp with anything, or an extra set of hands, I’m sure you won’t hesitate to ask.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “She said she’ll talk to you.”
“Who?”
“Marion Wells said she’ll only tell you where she buried the bodies.”
Oh…he didn’t like that at all. Didn’t want her in the middle of his case, key to getting information. And the ASAC in San Diego didn’t want her to try to help them find Walker. She’d be inclined to develop a complex if this continued.
Sure, private investigators weren’t usually revered by law enforcement, but she’d proven herself, hadn’t she? She’d closed some serious cases in the last year plus.
Kenna studied the hill in the distance. “Is that right?”
Jerry sighed. “Are you going to come and talk to her, or are you going to make this difficult for everyone?”
She was pretty sure she could do both without much effort, but didn’t point that out. “Let me change into my work clothes.” She glanced at the clock on the wall that Forrest hadn’t adjusted with daylight savings. In a few months, it would tell the right time again. “I’ll be there at nine thirty.”
He strode to the door and let himself out.
Kenna found Forrest in the room she used as an office, staring at papers arranged on a huge piece of poster paper that she’d affixed to the wall with a sticky strip along the top.
“Apparently, Marion will only tell me where her victims are buried.” Kenna leaned against the doorframe, not wanting to intrude on Forrest’s space. “So I’m headed to the police station to talk to her.”
“That’s good.” Forrest didn’t look away from the papers.
Kenna didn’t mention the note, or Forrest’s husband and son. If Maizie found something or this went anywhere, there would be reason to bring it up. Forrest had to carry enough.Especially with just finding the note and just now opening the front door to the man who’d told her the tragic news.
If she wanted to write a book about a serial killer who had never been caught, rather than face reality, that was her business. And not too far from exactly what Kenna did. Justice was how she’d survived. Burying her head from reality and getting on with her life—the one she wanted.
Kenna said, “Okay, see you later.”
It wasn’t Kenna’s job to fix this woman. Even if everything in her wanted to try, Forrest wasn’t her case. She was a grown woman who could live her life and make whatever choices she wanted, and it wasn’t on Kenna to convince her something wasn’t healthy.
Kenna asked the people who cared about her to respect her choices. No one got to tell her that the way she lived was wrong, or not good enough. That she should have as many friends as possible and share all the intimate details of her life with them. Too many people didn’t have contentment, and living in one place didn’t appeal to Kenna. She wasn’t going to suddenly settle somewhere, start attending church at the same place every Sunday, and quit living on the road. The nomadic way of life was written in her DNA.
She considered her life to be pretty good right about now—battling the fear every day, growing her relationship with God, and being a voice for the lost and forgotten. So what if Deputy Jerry Kobrinsky—or Jax’s boss—didn’t think she was as good as a cop?