Page 62 of Only Girl Alive

Tamm.

County attorney holding a press conference. It’s on the news. He’s blabbering about nothing.

She would kill Aaron for the press conference and pulling the officers from the Tanner home. The church must have figured out that they knew about Hannah and even their semblance of cooperation was at an end. It was the only explanation. She rolled to a stop and parked next to the outer crime scene tape. She needed to check the front door to make sure it was locked. She didn’t trust the officers.

The cool air had helped with her headache and she felt better. She walked to the door and turned the knob. The door opened and her anger rose to new levels.

“What the actual heck,” she muttered to herself. She pushed the door wide and looked inside. The officers must have had another set of keys and they had purposely compromised the scene’s integrity.

She thought about calling Clyde. She stepped inside the mudroom then moved farther into the house. She felt well enough to check things herself and decided to let the team finish the grid search. A report would need to be written stating that the house had been left unsecure for up to five hours. Law enforcement had probably cleared out at the same time the God squad took off.

Picturing Aaron in a prison jumpsuit did little to calm her anger. She locked the door behind her and quickly walked through the lower floor. She stopped at the staircase. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, but she shook it off.

She placed her foot on the first stair and disregarded the sense of foreboding that ran through her.

Twenty-Nine

The house was silent. It seemed strange after being here so many times with her team. With five of them, there were always small noises and talking. She turned at the landing and stopped at the top, peering down the hallway. She decided to start at the rooms closest to the stairs instead of the master bedroom.

Her head shook slightly over the ridiculous apprehension she felt. After checking the utility closet and bathroom, she stepped carefully around the dark spots on the wooden planks and entered Elijah’s bedroom. The blood on the walls and floor replaced her unease with sadness. He didn’t deserve what happened to him. Marcella and Tracy could be held accountable for not leaving when they had the opportunity, but Elijah’s decisions were made for him. He had nowhere to turn. His father had gotten away with horrible crimes, supported by church doctrine.

God, prophet, father.

That was their hierarchy. Even Aaron and her other stepbrothers were the product of the twisted indoctrination. But the crimes they committed and were now accountable for happened as adults. They no longer had the excuse of brainwashing. Control over women and children drove them to seek more power regardless of the consequences. Their prophet placed them above the law.

She backed out and moved to Tracy’s room. The stains on the mattress had her walking closer. She should be using her new knowledge about Hannah to look at the scene with her detective’s eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it now. The team would come back here and put their thoughts together. She just needed to check the house and get out.

She entered Hannah’s room and looked at the twin bed that had belonged to her. If she was located, maybe a psychiatrist or therapist could unweave the horror she’d suffered along with what had brought her to commit the murders. She hoped Hannah eventually found peace.

Eve checked the closet that still had several dresses hanging inside. Now was not a time to cry but that was how she felt. She turned and walked out, her heart heavy.

The unused room containing only the three beds was exactly as she remembered.

The master bedroom was last. After she moved around the bed, she noticed the attic stairs. They were pulled down, sticking six inches outside the closet. Her team had not come into this room earlier. She remembered them securing the ladder on their last visit. This meant officers had invaded the family’s secrets. To Eve, it was a violation of the victims and her investigation.

She walked over to the stairs and looked upward. She considered simply closing them. She was being stupid, she told herself. She had to check the attic.

The house creaked above her but she’d heard the sound while they collected evidence. She remembered it from her childhood too. Large, two-story homes were like that. She climbed the stairs and stepped a few feet into the room. The sun was brighter today and it wasn’t as dark as it had been the last time she was up here.

“Who are you?”

Eve spun around so fast she stumbled back a step. Her left hand went flat against her chest and her right hand to her gun.

Hannah stood about three feet from the bottom corner of the bed, partially behind the chair. Her face and the top of her pale green prairie dress were cast in shadows by the slope of the ceiling.

Eve slowly lowered her left hand from her heart, slipped it into her pocket and flipped on the recorder. Her right hand remained firmly on the butt, her forefinger on the holster release. She tried to bring her breathing under control.

Hannah didn’t notice her left hand; her eyes were on the gun. Eve dropped her arm loosely to her side, inhaling deeply then exhaling.

“Hannah?” It wasn’t really a question but her mind was racing as she tried to grasp that the ten-year-old was standing in front of her.

“I don’t know you,” the child said in a tiny voice that sounded incredibly innocent.

For a moment, Eve’s conviction that Hannah killed her family faded.

“I’m Eve. I came here to make sure the house was locked.” She spoke softly, hoping Hannah wouldn’t be afraid.

“Why do you have a gun?”

---