Wendy’s room was disorganized, but not dirty.
“Mr. Darling, have you moved anything?”
“I looked around her desk when I heard her phone alarm this morning, but I haven’t touched anything else.”
“Was the door open or closed?”
“Closed, why?”
“Just curious.” If she’d left it open, he probably would have noticed she was gone sooner. By closing it, she’d bought herself some time.If she left voluntarily.
“Are you okay with me looking around?”
He looked to Jaden then back to me before answering. “If you think it’ll help.”
I put on rubber gloves and got to work. I started with her small closet. It was packed to bursting with shirts, dresses, costumes, and a cheerleader’s outfit.
“Was Wendy a cheerleader?” I asked.
“All four years of high school.” His pride filled the room.
“Did she have plans to attend college?”
“She did. She took this year off to work and save money.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
The necklace compartments of her jewelry box were full. I pulled out a few pieces and examined them. Given the cheapclasps and tarnished metal, I figured the stones were fake. The top two drawers were more of the same, only with earrings, rings, and bracelets.
The bottom drawer was completely empty.
Interesting.
Usually, I dictated my notes, but not wanting Darling to overhear, I typed them into my phone.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jaden leaning against the hall wall. To an untrained eye, he’d looked like he didn’t have a care in the world, but I could tell he was watching Darling.At least he’s doing what I asked.
I opened the dresser drawers and looked inside.
“What’s she looking for?” Darling asked Jaden.
“Maxwell is a profiler, she’s looking for clues about Wendy’s state of mind.”
I couldn’t have put it better myself.Thanks, Sheppard.
There was nothing to note in Wendy’s dresser so I moved on to her desk.
“Sheppard, can you give me a hand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, exaggerating his southern drawl.
And he’s back.
“What do you need me to do?” He asked as he slipped on a pair of large rubber gloves, snapping the wrists of each one.
“We need to look through her trash, and read the notes.” Her floral bin had a lot of crumpled up scraps of paper. I’d expect to see that in John’s office, he was old school, but not in the bedroom of anineteen-year-old.
“Good times.” He didn’t sound thrilled but he didn’t hesitate to get on his knees and start grabbing slips of paper from the small can.