We’re at my office, looking at pictures of Kelli’s bedroom on my computer screen. Riley’s with us.
“You took these with a cell phone?” Riley says.
Dillon laughs. “No way! Nikon D7000.”
As I flip from one picture to the next, I ask, “Who brought you here today?”
“My mom.”
“She knows you’re meeting me?”
“No, ma’am. She drops me off at the mall. I tell her I’m hanging out with friends. I go in the front, walk out the back. It’s only ten minutes.”
I ask if she was wearing socks Saturday night (Yes). Slippers? (No). Did she pass out with her socks on? (Yes). I ask if she turned down the bedspread. (No). I ask if there’s any way she might have disrobed during the night, and was it possible she woke up for a few minutes when Ethan and Ronnie were in the room with her. (No and no).
I ask if there’s anything she can remember about that night she hasn’t told us, or anything she can think of to help us prove her story.
As expected, she’s got nothing new to add, so I say, “Tell me about Kelli’s relationship with her stepfather, Mitch.”
“She hates him.”
“Why?”
She bites her lip. “I’m not sure.”
The way she says it tells me she absolutely does know.
“It could be important,” I say.
She says nothing.
“Has Mitch moved out of the house?”
“No, ma’am.”
“How long has he been out of town?”
“He left Saturday morning.”
“Any idea when he’s coming back?”
“Saturday, I think.”
“Does he travel often?”
“I’m not sure. We don’t really talk about him.”
“Because?”
“They don’t get along.”
“Does Mitch get along with Lydia?”
“They sleep in separate bedrooms.”
“How long has that been going on?”
“I don’t know. A long time, I think.”
Dillon says, “She doesn’t keep clothes in the guest bedroom. Just an alarm clock and a cell phone charger.”
We come to the end of the photos.
Riley says, “Are the sleeping arrangements important?”
“Probably not,” I say. “I’m just trying to understand their relationship.”
She says, “Lydia sleeps upstairs when he’s out of town. So she can be near Kelli. When Mitch is home, she sleeps in the master bedroom.”
“And Mitch sleeps in the guest bedroom?”
“No. He has his own master bedroom upstairs.”
I look at Dillon.
He says, “There were three bedrooms upstairs. I looked in all of them.”
Riley says, “There’s a fourth one. He keeps it locked.”
Dillon thinks a minute. Then says, “Right. One of the doors was locked. I assumed it was storage.”
YOU ARE READING
Promise You Won't Tell?
Teen Fiction"I think something might have happened to me Saturday night. Something bad." Private Investigator Dani Ripper's client list is nuttier than the Looney Tunes conga line, but she diligently solves one crazy case after another, waiting for a game-chang...
