said.
“Reconstruction?” asked Travis.
“One of the things I need to show you,” said Diane.
She rose from the table, gathered the report and evidence, and handed everything to Travis. She led him to the workstation David had vacated, pulled Travis up a chair by hers, sat down, and called up the Barre crime scene.
Repeated viewings of the Barres in death did not desensitize her to the ghastly image of people she had known. It wouldn’t have been much easier if they were strangers, but it would have given her some emotional distance.
She played the animated version for Travis. The androgynous figure appeared in the room-appeared because the photograph didn’t tell them how he or she got there. The killer slit Ozella’s throat, waited and slit Roy’s throat. Then he walked out of the room, followed by a window that came up reminding the viewer that there were no extra details in evidence of the exit.
She heard Travis quietly whistle under his breath. “This is what happened?” he said. “How do you know? How do you know Ozella was killed first? How do you know the killer waited?”
Diane flipped to the photographic view of the scene. She started in the dining room and took him through everything she had discovered by looking at the photographs. She pointed out Ozella’s milky eyes and told him what it meant-dead at least three hours, give or take. She showed him the reflection in the silver tray of Roy with his clear eyes.
“Wow,” said Travis. He pulled out a notebook and wrote it all down.
Diane showed him the blood spatter and what it might mean in terms of right-handedness of the killer. She showed him the indistinct tracks of blood on the carpet and floor.
“I think he had covered his feet. Possibly with Tyvek. He may have even worn Tyvek coveralls,” she said, “to keep the blood off him.”
“I can’t believe you can get all this stuff off the pictures,” he said, scribbling away.
“If I had better photographs, I might find more,” said Diane. “It’s just a matter of looking for clues-and knowing what is a clue.”
“You’ve really impressed me. You know, I’m gonna feel guilty taking credit for your work.”
“Don’t,” Diane said absently. “One thing you might consider is that the Barres may have known their killer. I didn’t see evidence that anyone broke in the front door. Do you know if anyone broke in the back?”
Travis shook his head. “It didn’t look like it. But the Barres were such friendly people. You know-build your house by the side of the road and be a friend to everybody. That was them. They might let a stranger in.”
“If he looked like he was in a space suit?” said Diane.
“You have a point there,” he said. “Is it easy to get those suits? That’s Tyvek, like the envelopes, right?”
“Yes,” said Diane. “There was also a cigar box missing.”
“Cigar box?” he said.
Diane went to the panorama of the living room and highlighted the hutch where Roy Barre kept his collection. “I remember he showed me a cigar box filled with rocks. I don’t really remember what kind of rocks. Frankly, I wasn’t paying attention. But his children should know.”
Travis nodded, staring unblinking at the photograph. “Roy Jr., their son, he lives in Helen. He’s been up to the place since the killings. Said he didn’t notice anything missing, but he was all freaked out. I could take him through the place again after the funeral. Roy’s kids’ll probably remember the box. Ol’ Roy liked to talk about the stuff he collected. His other kids, Christine and Spence, are coming in today or tomorrow. Christine lives in Virginia, I think, and Spence. . somewhere in Tennessee.”
“I’d like to speak with them,” said Diane.
Travis nodded. “You thinking this box was a trophy?” he asked. “I mean, do you think this is one of them serial killers you hear about?”
“I don’t know,” said Diane. “Maybe.”
“I was gonna ask about Roy’s stuff-you know, the diaries. I was wondering if you read anything in them that might help. But now that the Watsons have been murdered, well, ain’t no use, it seems like.”
“Never close off an avenue of investigation until it has been exhausted. Looking at the diary is not a bad idea. I’ve got a call in to Jonas Briggs to tell him about the Barres. He’s away right now on a dig and can’t be reached easily. He has the diary with him.”
“Don’t make much difference now, I guess. What could the Watsons have to do with it?” said Travis.
“Did the Watsons and the Barres know each other?” asked Diane.
“Sure. Not many strangers in our county. They went to the same church-First Baptist. So they were of the same spiritual attitude as the Barres. They didn’t get along with Daddy and the rest of the deacons in our church. Truthfully, I’d like to go to their church, but Daddy would be upset, and we’ve just started getting along since he gave me the job as deputy-I was a bit of a handful growing up. Our deacons think the First Baptists are leaning toward the side of sin just a little too much.”
Diane tried to call up in her mind what the First Baptists could be doing to earn such a description, but couldn’t imagine it.
As if he understood what she might be thinking, Travis continued explaining the nuances of religious point of view in his county.
“They want a little more progress in the county-and they allow dancing.” He laughed. “I know how backward we must sound to you guys down here.”
“Could anyone in your church or another church be so worried about people from First Baptist that they would start killing them?” asked Diane.
Travis looked at her, startled. “I hadn’t thought of that, but I can’t imagine it. That’d be cold.” He shook himself, as if trying to get rid of the thought. “I’ll tell you this: It’s an idea Daddy won’t entertain at all, and I don’t know how I’d ask around.”
“Would your dad be willing to ask the GBI or the FBI in, especially if there are any more killings?” asked Diane.
“You’re joking, right?” he said. “No.”
“Then you are going to have to figure out a way to ask the tough questions,” said Diane.
Izzy appeared with a suitcase and handed it to Travis. “One crime scene kit to go. If you like, I’ll go over everything with you,” he said.
“That’d be real nice of you,” Travis said.
“I’ll be getting back to the museum,” said Diane. “Call if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks. I really do appreciate the help here. I’d like to know what you think of the Watson crime scene,” Travis said.
“Was their house broken into?” asked Diane.
“Don’t believe so,” said Travis. “I didn’t look at the whole thing. Daddy went through it. I’ll find out from him. I was kind of hoping it was a stranger-like that guy you met in the woods. I sent Jason over to the rangers’ station to ask about campers. I’d like it to be somebody like him. It’d be real bad if it’s somebody from Rendell County. Real bad.”
Diane didn’t like the direction of his thinking. However much Travis tried to be different from his father, he was thinking like him now. He was in danger of pinning it on a stranger. Maybe not on purpose, but she doubted that his dad did it on purpose, either. She needed to solve this before some miscarriage of justice was meted out by the Conrads.
“If you can keep me informed,” she told Travis, “I’ll give you all the analysis we have at our disposal.”
“That’d be just real nice,” he said. “They’d all be so surprised if I solved this.”
Chapter 21
Andie was late getting back from lunch. Diane didn’t mind. A love story was far better to have close by than the murders that occupied most of her thoughts right now. In Andie’s absence Diane had routed the phones to one
