“The contractor is writing down names and numbers of everyone associated with the project. The homeowners have two teenage boys together. If it is Adrianna Blanc, she would seem to be out of the boys’ age range, but we still need to know where they were last night. There’s also an older son by the father’s first marriage.”

“How old is he?”

“Don’t know a thing about him. Call up Wynona Pratt. Tell her to go through the list one by one.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Marge shrugged. “At least the body’s probably not Terry McLaughlin.”

Decker exhaled. “All that means is I have to deliver bad news to someone else.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

POSITIVELY THE WORST part of the job was bringing bad news to loved ones. It simply sucked. Kathy Blanc’s hands were shaking when Decker handed her the first picture and all it took was one look before she bolted from his office. Wanda Bontemps was there to direct her to the ladies’ room. Decker sat at his desk with his face in his hands, wondering just how long he could take this kind of stress. And if that weren’t enough, there was a fourteen-year-old boy with missing parents, living in his home.

Sometimes it isn’t even worth getting up in the morning.

Five minutes later, Wanda Bontemps led Kathy Blanc back into Decker’s office and seated her across from his desk. Kathy’s complexion had turned the color of eggshell; her eyes were red with black tears streaming down her cheeks courtesy of mascara. Red lipstick had run into the lines atop her mouth. Her body was enveloped with the shakes and she hugged herself in a weak attempt to stop her seizing. The woman’s coiffed blond hair framed a long, patrician face now smeared with makeup. She wore pearls in her ears and had on black knitted pants and a red knitted top. Black pumps on her feet.

Wanda Bontemps was at the doorway, her dark eyes looking pretty somber. “How about some water and a wet towel?”

Decker nodded and then faced Kathy Blanc’s imploring eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Blanc. Is there anyone we can call for you?”

“My…hus…band.” She opened her purse, but Decker was quicker. He handed her a Kleenex. “Thank you.”

“Do you have a number, ma’am?”

“It’s area code 213-827…” Her face crumbled and Decker handed her another tissue. She managed to get out the next four digits. When Wanda returned, he handed her the number and told her to make the call. He gave the water to Kathy along with a damp white towel.

“Is there anyone else you want me to contact?” Decker asked her.

“I can’t even think.”