Page 87 of Everything She Feared

Neat. Spotless.

Trading glances, they continued walking.

With the forensic analysis of the rock indicating Anna Shaw’s death was intentional, they still hadn’t ruled out Katie Harmon. She was the last known person to see Anna alive. But there was that gap in time when Katie ran for help. Someone else could’ve been involved. And placing Smith at the park, at the time of Anna’s death, had turned their investigation around.

The detectives found Smith’s truck after Pierce reached Rawley Grimes, Smith’s community corrections officer, a gravel-voiced man who sounded like he was scraping his way through the phone line.

“Why’re you asking? Has he deviated from his conditions? As his CCO, I need to know.”

“We just have a few questions.”

“What questions? ’Cause I got him adhering to the program.”

“We’ll let you know how things go when we’re done.”

Smith’s Silverado sat a few doors from a 1950s house that was enveloped with scaffolding and ladders. The front yard was covered with stacked sheets of lumber, shingles, bricks and other building material. A symphony of staple guns, power saws and hammering filled the air with clouds of sawdust and the smell of fresh-cut wood.

A van and pickup with the logoDiamond Ocean Remodelsat in the driveway as workers in jeans, T-shirts, hard hats and tool belts moved about.

Pierce stopped a worker inspecting a sheet of plywood.

“Excuse me. We’re looking for John James Smith.”

“J.J.?” The worker pointed his chin to a table saw.

The saw whined as Smith pushed a four-by-four-inch beam to the blade. Finishing the cut, he looked up to see Pierce’s and Benton’s badges. He switched the motor off.

“Got a minute?” Benton said.

Smith eyed them without speaking.

“Your CCO told us you were here,” Pierce said. “We got a couple of questions. Could you show us your identification?”

After showing them his license, Smith stood there waiting. Pierce pulled out her notebook, paged through it.

“Where were you on the morning of the tenth of this month?”

Smith’s focus shifted as he thought and blinked once.

“Here at work.”

“You want to rethink your answer?” Benton said.

“What’s this about?”

They turned to a bearded man about six two, his eyes going to their badges, his expression going cold.

“Who are you?” Benton said.

“Venner Robson. I’m the contractor. J.J.’s boss.”

“Could you show us some identification?” Benton said.

Robson pulled out his worn wallet. While Benton checked his driver’s license, Robson said: “What’s going on here?”

“We want to establish John’s whereabouts on the morning of the tenth.”

Robson thought for a moment. “Yeah, he was here. We’ve been on this site for several weeks.”

---