Page 85 of Little Girls Sleeping
He marched up to the Comptons’ front door, followed by another detective, Romano. He shoved his hand in and out of his pocket but didn’t pull anything out. Once he reached the door, he knocked loudly four times.
It didn’t take long before a slight woman answered. “Yes?” she said.
“Beth-Ann Compton?” stated Templeton, though he knew her already.
“Yes,” she said hesitantly.
Reaching into his upper jacket pocket, he said, “I have a warrant to search your home.” He handed her the official paperwork.
“I don’t understand,” she said faintly. It was evident from her frightened expression that she had no idea why the police would want to search her house.
Another patrol car drove up and parked.
Templeton forged into her home, followed by Romano and a couple of deputies. One of the deputies made a gesture for her to wait at the entrance.
The detective went upstairs as the rest of his crew began searching through drawers and closets, working their way to the kitchen. He found one of the bedrooms doubling as a guest room and craft area. Glancing behind him to make sure no one had followed him, he opened a small drawer at the work table, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small baggie containing a piece of pink fabric with a tiny drop of blood on it. Without hesitating, he dropped the fabric into the drawer with other scraps of material.
“Up here,” he yelled.
Within seconds, Romano and the two deputies arrived. Templeton pointed into the drawer. After everyone was satisfied, one of the deputies brought Mrs. Compton upstairs.
“Mrs. Compton, is this your sewing table?” the detective asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Everything in here belongs to you?” he insisted.
“Yes,” she said again.
Templeton made a gesture for one of the deputies to document and properly retrieve the fabric. “Search the entire room and gather any evidence. Keep the chain of custody intact.”
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Compton said.
“Don’t understand what? Why you hid evidence? Or why you killed your daughter?”
“No!I didn’t kill my daughter. She was taken. I did not kill her…” She turned to run down the stairs but was stopped by the second deputy.
“Mrs. Beth-Ann Compton,” he began. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”
“No,” she said. “No, you’re wrong. Whatever you found… can’t be…”
“Do you understand your rights?” he demanded.
“No, no, please no, please, I didn’t kill my daughter…”
“Do you understand your rights?” he said more loudly.
“Yes,” she said in a barely audible whisper.
Forty-Four
The more Katie wrestled with everything that had happened during the course of the investigation, the suspects, and the evidence, the more convoluted everything became. She had become sidetracked by trying to prove forensic evidence, but there was nothing pointing to any specific suspect yet. In her gut, she knew that the evidence would prove who the killer was only when they had one.
She struggled with the emotion festering throughout her body and gripped the steering wheel harder, trying to will away any bad feelings or sensations trying to control her.
The search warrant acquired by Templeton for the Comptons’ house and the Haven farm made her angry. It was wrong. The detective had jumped to a conclusion to try and close the cases. Some might say it was appropriate in order to clear or implicate the Comptons once and for all, but it didn’t make sense that they would kill the other girl—unless Templeton was somehow using Terrance Price’s involvement to connect the two cases.
There was one killer—Katie would bet her career on that single fact. One killer, three murders. A serial killer; that was where the investigation stood.
