“The witness passed by the house later in the day, she believes about three in the afternoon when she took her children t
o the park, and again at approximately five when she took them home. She is certain the security was engaged at those times as she deliberately walked by to check as she was aware the parents were out of town. She did not, however, see the victim at either time.”
“Good. Let me know as soon as you’ve located and gotten statements from the others.”
After dismissing the uniforms, she stood where she was and watched the morgue attendants bring Deena out in the anonymous black body bag. Then she moved to intercept a woman, blond hair flying, who rushed toward the house.
“Ma’am. This is a crime scene, you can’t enter at this time.”
“It’s Deena, isn’t it? They wouldn’t say what happened, the police. Just that there’d been an incident. I couldn’t believe. . . Is it Deena? What happened?”
“I’m unable to give you any information at this time. Are you a friend of the family?”
“Yes. A neighbor. Hester Privet. I spoke with two officers earlier this morning, but—”
“Yes. I’m Lieutenant Dallas. You spoke with Deena yesterday.”
“Yes, right here, right out front. Is she—God—is she in that bag?”
No point in evading. It would all hit soon enough. “Deena MacMasters was killed last night.”
The woman stumbled back a step, then wrapped both arms around her torso. “But how? How?” Tears gathered in eyes gone wide with shock. “Was there a break-in? She’s so vigilant with the alarms and locks. She babysits my twins, my boys—and she lectures me about making sure the house is secure. Oh God, my God. My boys adore her. What will I tell them? Can I do something, anything? Jonah and Carol. They’re away. I have the contact information. I can—”
“They returned this morning. They’re inside.”
Hester closed her eyes a moment, took several breaths. “I—I almost went over and knocked. To check? To make sure she didn’t want to come over and hang, have dinner. But I talked myself out of it. I wish I’d . . . Is there anything I can do? Anything?”
“Did Deena ever have anyone over when she watched your children? A friend?”
“Sometimes Jo came with her. Jo Jennings, her best friend.”
“Any boys?”
“No. God.” She used the backs of her hands to wipe her wet cheeks. “Against the rules, and Deena didn’t really date.”
“Did she always follow the rules?”
“Yes, from what I could tell. I often wished she’d break one.” Hester swiped at another tear. “She seemed, to me, so young and innocent for her age, and on the other hand so mature. Responsible. I trusted her absolutely with my sons. I should have checked on her more while her parents were gone, kept a closer eye. I should’ve insisted she come over for dinner. But it was only a couple of days, and I didn’t think. Just didn’t think.”
“Did she ever talk to you about a boy?”
“No one specific. We did talk about boys now and then, in general. She has—had—such a good relationship with her mother, but sometimes a girl can’t say things to her mom. And we were closer in age. Plus, I pried,” Hester admitted with a twisted smile. “I think she had a crush on someone because I’d noticed she was taking more care with her wardrobe, her hair. And . . . well, there was just a look in her eye. You know?”
“Yeah.”
“I commented on it, and she just said she was trying some new things. But there was this look in her eye. This I’ve-got-a-secret look. Did some boy hurt her? Did some . . .” Realization and horror struck her face. “Oh God.”
“I can’t give you details at this time. I’m going to give you my card. If you think of anything you saw, anything she may have said to you, I want you to contact me. I don’t care how inconsequential it may seem, I want to hear it.” Eve passed over a card. “One thing. Did you happen to notice when you saw her yesterday morning if she had her nails done? Painted fingers and toes?”
“She didn’t. I would’ve noticed as she rarely did. And she was bare-foot. Watering the plants there, in her bare feet, so I’d have noticed.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“I have to tell my husband, and our boys. They’re only four. I don’t know how to tell them.”
Peabody came out as Hester walked away. “EDD’s on the way, and the sweepers are on it. Mrs. Whitney’s packing a few things up for Mrs. MacMasters. They’ll stay at the Whitneys’ for a day or two, depending.”
“We’ll leave them to it then. We need to interview the friends. It’s too late in the day to scope the park, the jogging trails. Her habit was to run there between eight and nine on weekends, the same weekdays when she didn’t have school. We’ll hit that tomorrow. We’ll take Jamie first.”