It was a dumb, provocative question. No woman would ever be invited into a secret society of like-minded deputies. She’d seen a few deputies with the tattoos but had never witnessed a beating, by them or anybody else, during her mandatory time serving at the county jail.

“No, I don’t,” Eve said.

“What do you think of the deputies who do?”

She hadn’t given it any thought and even if she had, she wouldn’t share it with the media.

Eve ignored the question, got into her car, and tried to back out without running over any reporters.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Duncan, Biddle, and Garvey were still in the squad room making calls when she returned. She tapped them each on the shoulder and gestured for them to join her at the dry-erase boards when they wrapped up their calls. It only took a minute or two before they all gathered around her. She had news to share, but before she could speak, Biddle began talking.

“I spoke to the kids’ teachers at school. Neither kid showed any signs of abuse, physically or emotionally, that the teachers could see. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t happening, of course. I’m trying to track down their pediatrician to see if I can get their medical records.”

“Good work.” Eve hadn’t called them together to hear their progress. But, once again, she was interrupted before she could share her lead, this time by Garvey.

“Tanya’s Pilates instructor is out until this afternoon. I asked for a list of everybody in her class in the meantime but the lady at the front desk won’t give me what she has without checking with her supervisor first. But there isn’t a regular enrollment, so to speak. People reserve spots online or on a sign-up sheet in the gym until the class fills up. So it can be different people every day. The Realtor may only have shown up once, but I’ll keep on it.”

“Excellent,” Eve said.

Duncan studied Eve’s face. “Did something come up at the crime scene?”

“I think so.” She took out her phone and held it up to show them a photo of the Walmart bag. The three men crowded around to look at her picture.

“What are we looking at?” Biddle asked.

“A Walmart bag that contains a three-pack of Brillo sponges, a twenty-two-ounce spray bottle of Lysol All-Purpose Cleaner, and an unopened box of forty Glad Strong Quick-Tie thirty-gallon trash bags. There’s no receipt inside.”

Duncan frowned. “What’s unusual about that?”

“It doesn’t fit.” Eve set down her phone, walked over to the dry-erase board, and pointed to the crime scene photos. “Tanya bought their household staples in bulk at Costco and chose the cheap Kirkland-brand version of anything whenever she had a choice. That’s typical for a family on a tight budget trying to stretch every dollar. Most of the empty bottles of cleanser in the bathroom are bulk size, except for these two on the floor and the ones in the Walmart bag that are regular size. Those are the only two bottles of Lysol in the house, by the way.”