joined Emilia on the couch. “But thank you.”
Marcy settled into an armchair. “Bennett and Emilia, I have to say, thank you so much for looking into Alice’s case. It’s been a long time since anyone has shown interest.” She removed a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “Alice was my only grandchild. Not a day goes by I don’t think of her.”
Seven years. Alice had been missing for seven years and her family had no answers about what had happened to her. It made Bennett angry. For Mrs. Nelson. For the other families who lost loved ones because a killer hadn’t been caught.
Marcy swiped the tears from her cheeks. “Forgive me. My emotions are running away from me. My daughter died just six months after Alice disappeared. A broken heart, I think. When Alice didn’t come home for her mother’s funeral, I knew something was very wrong. To be frank, I knew she was dead. Alice and her mother were close.” She took a deep breath. “What can I do to help?”
Bennett removed a photograph from his jacket pocket. “This picture was taken on the night Alice disappeared. What can you tell us about her relationship with Derrick Jackson?”
“Oh, to my knowledge Alice wasn’t friendly with Derrick. Now, this other young man, Henry Stillman is a different matter.” She pointed to Henry in the picture. “Henry and Alice were very close, since they were little kids.”
Emilia leaned forward. “I wasn't aware Henry grew up in Fulton County.”
“Oh yes, dear. Until he was ten, I’d say. That’s when his father’s drinking got out of control and social services removed Henry from the home. They couldn’t find his mother. She’d left when Henry was just a baby.” Marcy shook her head and her beehive wobbled. “Shameful. Anyway, Alice reconnected with Henry after he moved back to town. They had a special bond. I think it was the tragedy that did it.”
“Tragedy?”
“Henry’s aunt was murdered. Horrible thing. The killer was the poor woman’s boyfriend. It seems he was jealous she’d moved on. Henry, Alice, and some other neighborhood kids were in the backyard playing when it happened. They didn’t hear anything, but I believe Henry was the one who found her.”
Emilia passed Bennett a glance. He knew exactly what she was thinking. This could be the link they need to prove Henry was the killer. The murders were ritualistic. Was he reliving the scene he’d discovered at his aunt’s house?
If that was the case, why hadn’t Sheriff King put two and two together a long time ago? Or maybe he had, which is why he insisted they look into Henry.
Bennett’s mind raced as he pulled out his cell phone to text Claire. “Do you know the name of Henry’s aunt? And the year the murder took place?”
“The year was 1999. I don’t remember the aunt’s name.” Marcy tapped her temple. “My mind’s not what it used to be. But we can look it up. Come with me.”
She rose from the armchair. Bennett and Emilia followed her down the hall into a bedroom converted into an office. File cabinets lined one large wall.
“My husband was a newspaper reporter for decades. He kept every one of his stories along with all the research.” She pulled open a drawer marked with the correct year. “Let me think…the murder happened in the winter. I remember that specifically.”
She flipped through the files with agonizing slowness. Bennett was tempted to push Marcy out of the way and do it himself. From the way Emilia’s hands twitched, she was thinking the same.
“Here we are.” Marcy removed a folder. “Rachel Stillman. That was her name.”
Papers fluttered out of the folder and slid across the carpet. A crime scene photo landed near Bennett’s foot.
Marcy gasped. “Oh, my. I’m so sorry. Sometimes my husband was able to get police photographs. He was very close to Sheriff King.”
Bennett barely heard her. He picked up the picture, his movements slow.
The woman in the crime scene photograph was lying on a tile floor. Cuts covered her arms. Defensive wounds, judging from their angle. She’d been stabbed multiple times in the chest.
Henry’s aunt was dark-haired and pretty. Her nails were painted red. A poinsettia had tipped over next to her, the bloom mingling with the blood on the floor.
Emilia took the picture from him and studied it before lifting her gaze. “Is this enough to get a search warrant for Henry’s house?”
He nodded. “I’ll call the judge myself on the way over there. Let’s