Chapter 20
Renee’s expression was one of shock and disbelief.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “How could that even happen?”
“The more I investigate this case, the more I feel like certain things don’t add up if Wren was the intended target,” I said.
“Like what?”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“For starters, there was no forced entry. Mia also kept a hidden key in the front yard, and it seems the killer knew where to find it. Wren was shot once, and there were no signs of a struggle. That tells me the killer wasn’t there to argue or scare her or to rob the place.
They were there with a purpose, which suggests premeditation. ”
Renee shook her head. “I … I don’t know what to say.”
I did, so I kept on going.
“The coroner suspects Wren may have been moved after she was shot,” I said. “Lifted, even if only for a moment, and then set back down.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“To look at her. To confirm who they had just killed. You said yourself Wren and Mia were close growing up. They looked alike and had the same build and similar features. If someone expected to find Mia in that house, it makes sense they would have thought they had. Mia has a birthmark below her left ear. Wren didn’t. ”
“Mia’s birthmark. I’d forgotten all about it. But you’re right. If what you’re saying is true, Mia shouldn’t be alone in that house.”
“The police are keeping an eye on her.”
She pressed a hand to her chest and sighed. “What a relief.”
Before I could say anything more, the front door opened, and high-pitched voices entered the house, yelling, “Mommy! Mommy! We’re home!”
Two young girls burst into the room, their backpacks bouncing against their shoulders as they ran toward Renee, wrapping their arms around her waist.
“Hey, you two,” she said, brushing the hair from their faces. “How was school today?”
“Good,” one of them said.
“We had snack twice in my class,” the other said.
A man stepped into the room behind them, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a navy polo and slacks.
“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at me. “I didn’t know you had company, or I wouldn’t have let them ambush your conversation.”
“It’s fine,” Renee said. “Bryan, this is Georgiana. She’s a private investigator working on Wren’s ...”
Her gaze drifted to the children before returning to Bryan, as though asking him to put words to the thoughts she was unable to voice.
He nodded, his expression shifting to one of concern. Then he stepped forward to shake my hand. “I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances.”
“Me too,” I said.
“Right before you came in, Georgiana was telling me something unexpected,” Renee said. “She thinks Wren might not have … ahh, let me think of how to put it. She thinks—”
Bryan raised a hand, stopping her.
“I want to hear everything, of course. But first …” he turned toward the girls. “Why don’t you two go into the playroom and watch something on television? I’ll bring you a snack in a few minutes. Mommy and Daddy need to have a grown-up talk with Mommy’s friend, okay?”
“Can we have ice cream?” the taller one asked.
“Sure, just give us a few minutes to talk first, and I’ll bring it to you.”
The kids nodded and skipped out of the room. Once they were out of earshot, I gave him a shortened version of the story I’d just told Renee.
The lack of forced entry.
The clean shot.
The possibility Wren had been moved.
When I finished, he said, “I never got the chance to know Wren or Mia well. We saw them here and there at family events over the years, and at their grandfather’s funeral, of course.
I’d always hoped they would reconnect with Renee one day and be a bigger part of our lives.
In fact, I even reached out to Mia after we found out Wren died. ”
Renee looked surprised. “You did? When?”
“About a week after the funeral. I figured if I talked to Mia, maybe I could help bridge the gap between cousins, so you two could lean on each other for support.”
“What did Mia say?” I asked.
“She thanked me for getting in touch and said she just needed a little time, and then she would reach out.”
“Wow, I can’t believe it,” Renee said. “I’m sorry it had to happen the way it did, but maybe there’s a way for us to be in each other’s lives after all.”
One of the girls returned to the room, tugging on Bryan’s sleeve. “Daddy, you said a few minutes. We want ice cream. Pleeeeease.”
“All right, honey. Hang on. I’ll get it.”
He kissed Renee on the forehead, ruffled his daughter’s hair, and walked with her to the kitchen.
Renee and I talked for a few more minutes and then Bryan returned.
“It was nice meeting you, Georgiana,” he said.
“You too.”
Renee glanced up at him. “Are you leaving?”
“I thought I’d go to the store and grab a few things for dinner. Is there anything specific you feel like eating tonight?”
“Pasta sounds good.” She turned toward me. “I’m not much of a cook, but Bryan is, and he makes some great dishes.”
“I have one of those.”
“A husband who cooks?”
I nodded.
With the kids home, continuing our conversation would be difficult, and I decided enough had been said for now.
I stood, looking at Bryan. “I’ll walk out with you.”
I said goodbye to Renee, and she asked me to say hello to Mia for her.
I told her I would.
Bryan paused next to his car, but he didn’t open the door at first. “What you said earlier about the wrong sister being murdered, is it more of a guess, or …?”
“It’s a working theory. A strong one, at this point.”
“I hope Mia’s taking precautions.”
“We’re doing everything we can to keep her safe.”
“Good,” Bryan said. “I hope the two of them can reconnect when Mia feels ready. Renee puts on a brave face, but losing Wren has affected her more than most people realize.”
“I’m doing everything I can to solve this case so Wren’s loved ones have the closure they need to move on.”
He nodded, got into his car, and pulled away, leaving me standing at the edge of the driveway.
As I walked toward my vehicle, I noticed the woman who lived next door was in her front yard, watering a row of flowers that lined the walkway that led to her porch.
She was in her late sixties or early seventies and dressed in a floral blouse and slacks, her silver hair pulled back into a low bun.
We made eye contact and she said hello.
“Hi,” I said, making my way over to her.
“Are you a friend of Renee’s?”
“My name’s Georgiana, and I’m a private investigator. I came to talk to Renee about her cousin Wren.”
“Broke my heart to hear about what happened.”
“Are you the neighbor who stopped by Renee’s house the night Wren died to return a dish?”
She nodded.
“Do you remember what time you returned it?” I asked.
She considered the question. “It was after Jeopardy but before Dateline. At the time, she didn’t know what was about to happen to her cousin, of course.”
“Did you stay long?”
“Just a few minutes. We chatted, I gave her the dish, and came home. A couple days later, when I saw her again, she told me about the home invasion, and that Wren had died. Poor dear was devastated. Why are you here?”
“I had a few questions for Renee. We’re investigating the case as a homicide now.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re a private eye, I suppose you’re trying to rule her out as a suspect, right?”
“I’m talking to everyone who has been in Wren or Mia’s lives.”
She moved a hand to her hip. “I can say with all honesty that Renee isn’t capable of murder. Bryan isn’t either. He was at work that night.”
“How do you know?”
“The police stopped by a few days after Wren died and asked me some questions. I told them the same thing I’ve told you. They said they’d also spoken with Bryan’s boss, who confirmed he’d been at work all night.”
I said goodbye to the neighbor, and as I pulled away from the curb and began heading back to Cambria, my mind began focusing on other suspects, those still in question.
Who had the most to gain from the murder?
Or was it about something different, something I hadn’t considered yet?
Tomorrow, I would start pressing harder, hoping someone would soon break.