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Wow. As much as I complained about my parents, they could be contenders for “Best Parents of the Year.”
“What were their names?”
“Jolene and Roy Perkins.”
“Are they still alive?”
“That’s something I know for sure.” She adjusted her half-moon glasses. “The answer is no. They were brutally murdered.”
“Whoa!” I wasn’t expecting that. “When did it happen?”
“May 2000. The end of Billie Rae’s sophomore year.”
She was likely fifteen or sixteen at the time, based on my mental calculations. I pressed for more details.
“Her parents were both stabbed to death in the wee hours of the morning. I guess Roy had come to visit. They found Jolene on the sleeper couch, Roy on the floor.”
“What about Billie Rae? Was she okay?”
“The poor girl was missing. The police believed that whoever murdered Roy and Jolene kidnapped her.”
“Did they ever find the killer?”
“No…never. I guess it’s a cold case now.”
“What about Billie Rae? Do you think the murderer killed her too?”
Mary’s lips flattened into a thin, grim line. “I watch too many of those crime shows. They say that if they don’t find the kidnapped victim within the first twenty-four hours, chances are they’re dead.”
But there were also those girls who were held captive for years by their abductors and managed to escape. Some like Elizabeth Smart and Jaycee Dugard had shared their harrowing stories in bestselling memoirs and gone on to do worthwhile things with their lives. Before I had a chance to mention this, Mary asked, “Hun, I forgot to ask you. Where did you find this photo?”
I bit down on my bottom lip. Why hadn’t I anticipated that question? Despite being the quick thinker I was, I hedged and hawed and then… “Believe it or not, I found it in the basement of our house.” Mary didn’t know about our thieving exchange student and my gut told me to keep it that way. And she didn’t know a thing about our house, which had no basement.
“That’s very strange,” she muttered.
More quick thinking.
“Maybe the people who owned our house before us were related to Billie Rae and her family?” I asked hopefully.
“Hmm. Maybe.” Mary didn’t seem very convinced. And I couldn’t blame her. Unlike my sister and Tanya, I was not a great actress.
“But now, Mary, I’m really intrigued. You don’t by chance have any newspaper clippings you can send me about the murder or investigation?”
“Sorry, hun, I don’t. But I’m sure you can find some articles online. Google The Desert Sun and Redlands Daily. It was headline news: Double Murder in Shadow Hills Trailer Park. Perhaps come down here again and visit with the detectives who investigated the crime. I’d love to see you two kids again! And I’ll have plenty of my homemade lemonade and chocolate chip cookies just waitin’ for ya.”
A smile bloomed on my face. To her utter delight, I told her another visit was a possibility before we exchanged goodbyes.
Waiting for me on my phone were a dozen more scathing texts from Tanya.
But I had way better things to do than read them.
I spent the rest of the afternoon curled up on my bed, investigating the murders of Jolene and Roy Perkins and the disappearance of their teenage daughter, Billie Rae. Only taking a break for lunch, a yummy vegan burrito that Blanca had prepared.
My Google search didn’t yield much. A few newspaper articles and only one of them included photos of Billie Rae and her parents, Jolene and Roy. Billie Rae looked a lot like her mother, mousy-haired, solemn, and skinny, but had her father’s bushy brows and sharp cheekbones. He was scary-looking, with his nose ring, full-neck tattoo, and bristly cleft chin. There was something familiar about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe I’d watched too many episodes of Breaking Bad.
I did, however, glean more about the murders. The stabbings were done with kitchen knives. No outsider fingerprints were found on them; the killer must have worn gloves. There was no sign of a forced entry or a struggle, so it was likely someone they knew.
There were possible motives. Jolene was an unemployed alcoholic, who dallied with men from local bars. Roy had a felony record and a huge gambling debt, so possibly one of her local pickups had gone off the deep end or one of his debt collectors decided to make a point. The articles portrayed them as lowlifes and were mostly focused on the safe return of their missing, presumed kidnapped daughter, Billie Rae. A police call-in number was listed, including an anonymous hotline, promising that all tips would be kept confidential.
