The Good Daughter (The Good Daughter #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,192

eyes snapped up, then back down to the mug. “There was a re-enactment on the news.”

“No, this was the actual security footage from the camera above the front office.”

She picked up her mug. She blew on her tea before taking a sip.

“At some point, the camera was pushed down. The angle stops about two feet away from your classroom door.”

“Does it?”

Charlie asked, “Do you think Kelly knew about the camera? That whatever happened directly outside your door wasn’t recorded?”

“She never mentioned it. Have you asked the police?”

Charlie had asked Ben. “The kids knew that the camera didn’t catch the back end of the hall, but they didn’t know the exact cut-off point. But the strange thing was, Kelly knew. She was standing just shy of the camera’s range when she started shooting. Which is odd, because how would she know where to stand unless she’s been inside the room where the security cameras are?”

Judith shook her head, seemingly bewildered.

“You’ve been in that room, right? Or at least seen inside it?”

Again, the woman feigned ignorance.

“The monitors were kept in a closet right beside your husband’s office. The door was always open, so anyone who went inside could see it.” Charlie added another detail. “Kelly said she had never been sent to the principal’s office. It’s curious that she knew the blind spot without ever having seen the monitors.”

Judith put down the mug. She placed her palms flat on the table.

“Thou shalt not lie,” Charlie said. “That’s a Bible verse, right?”

Judith’s lips parted. She breathed out, then in again before she spoke. “It’s part of the Ten Commandments. ‘Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.’ But I think you’re looking for Proverbs.” She closed her eyes. She recited, “‘These six things the Lord doth hate; yea, seven are an abomination unto him: a proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent—’” Her throat worked. “‘That shed innocent blood.’” She paused again before finishing, “‘An heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to evil, a false witness that speaketh lies and he that soweth discord among brethren.’”

“That’s quite a list.”

Judith looked down at her hands, still spread flat to the table. Her nails were clipped close. Her fingers were long and thin. They cast a narrow shadow on the top of the polished walnut table.

Like the spider’s leg that Sam had seen inching its way into the camera’s frame.

Ben had been able to work more wizardry on his laptop once he realized what they were all staring at. It was like an optical illusion. Once you understood what your eyes were seeing, you could never again see the image otherwise.

In that paused frame, the camera had caught Kelly Wilson holding the revolver, just as she had confessed to Sam, but as with a lot of Kelly Wilson’s statements, there was more to the story.

Kelly had worn black that day.

Judith Pinkman had worn red.

Charlie remembered thinking how the woman’s shirt was soaked through with Lucy Alexander’s blood.

The sepia tone of the recording had almost blended the two dark colors, but once Ben had finished on his laptop, the truth was there for all to see.

The black-sleeved arm had a red-sleeved arm alongside it.

Two arms pointing toward the classroom door.

Two fingers wrapped around the trigger.

“The gun was in my hand.”

Kelly Wilson had told Sam at least three times during the interview that she was holding the revolver when Douglas Pinkman and Lucy Alexander were murdered.

What the girl had failed to mention was that Judith Pinkman’s hand was holding it there.

Charlie said, “They tested Kelly for gunshot residue at the hospital. It was on her hand, all over her shirt. Exactly where you’d expect to find it.”

Judith sat back in her chair. Her eyes stayed on her own hands.

Charlie said, “The residue is like talcum powder, if that’s what you’re worried about. It washes off with soap and water.”

“I know it does, Charlotte.” Her voice was scratchy, like the sound a record makes when the needle first hits the vinyl. “I know it does.”

Charlie waited. She could hear a clock ticking somewhere. She felt a slight breeze snaking out from the edges of the closed kitchen door.

Judith finally looked up. Her eyes glistened in the overhead light. She studied Charlie for a moment, then asked, “Why is it you? Why didn’t the police come?”

Charlie did not realize that she was holding her breath until she felt the strain in her lungs. “Do you want it to be the