Eric froze. “You think I’m going to hide something.” Anger flushed his face. “We’ve got nothing to hide.”

“I didn’t say that. But for your protection and to guard any evidence, let’s stay away from anything that Justin might have accessed before yesterday’s shooting.” Mason held Eric’s gaze, trying to be nonconfrontational as he slowed his words and softened his tone.

“He doesn’t use my computer,” Eric snapped.

“Then we won’t need it for very long.” Mason raised his brows. “I’m not trying to be an asshole. We’re searching for answers about the deaths of four people, including your son. Our investigation is going to cause some havoc in your lives and routines, but I think you want an explanation as much as we do, right?”

A murky and heavy aura descended over the table. The atmosphere in the room had started with sorrow and confusion but now distrust and anger bled through them.

“Are you going to tow our cars?” Sally asked, breaking the stalemate. Her nervous gaze darted between the investigators; she was uncertain whom to ask.

“I don’t know. That’ll be up to the evidence team. I suspect not,” said Ray.

“Did you find Justin’s car?” asked Eric.

“Not yet. We just got the description of his car a few hours ago. We’ll find it,” said Mason. They hadn’t released the car’s description to the public. If it had been in the parking garage, they should have heard by now, but there were plenty of side streets where the young man could have parked to walk to the mall. Someone must have complained about a strange car parked on their street in one of the thousands of leads called in since the shooting.

“Are you going to publicly say who the shooter is? Is it going to be all over the news?” Sally whispered.

Mason took a deep breath. “He’s an adult. We’ve got no reason to hold back that information. Yes, everyone is going to know. You’ve contacted an attorney, right?” Eric gave a quick nod. “Huddle up tight with the people you trust,” Mason advised. “Elect a family spokesperson or use your attorney to talk to the media. Stay away from the windows. I’m sorry, but it’s going to be ugly for a while. The media can be vultures. I’ve been close to a situation like this and you need to be prepared to cope. Avoid the news and unplug your landline.”

Sally paled. “Can we leave town? Can we go away for a while?”

Mason exchanged a glance with Ray. “Not yet. Let’s get some answers first. How about you show us Justin’s room?”

10

It smelled like a teenage boy’s room. Old tennis shoes, leftover food, and sweaty sheets. Even though Justin Yoder was twenty, he hadn’t abandoned any habits or interests from his teenage years. A big-screen TV that rivaled Mason’s hung on one wall. Two gaming systems, a cable console, a Blu-ray player, and three sets of headphones filled the shelves of a wooden unit below the TV. A rack held four guitars and a dusty keyboard was pushed against one wall. Ray took a series of photographs before they started. All they needed was to do a quick once-over. They’d leave the in-depth digging for the evidence team.

“How do you play more than one guitar at a time?” asked Ray. “This is my son’s dream bedroom. He’s been begging for a drum set. Like that will ever happen, but maybe a guitar with headphones is the way to go. But I gotta watch his hearing,” said Ray as he picked up one of the guitars with gloved hands. “I swear my nephews are going to be deaf by the time they graduate high school. My sister doesn’t get on them about the volume on their iPods. Wow. Look at those babies.” Ray gave a low whistle as he set the guitar back and stepped closer to two crossed swords hanging on the wall. “Shiny.” He ran a finger along a long blade. “Also completely dull. Just for show. And fantasies.”

“With enough strength behind them you could hurt someone,” Mason pointed out.

“You could say that about a broom handle, too,” said Ray. “Help me lift the mattress.” He stepped over a small pile of towels and shoved aside the balled-up sheet and blanket. The two of them bent and lifted the awkward pliable king-size mattress.

“Isn’t this one of those spendy foam things?” muttered Ray. “Even I don’t have one of those.”

Mason kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t there to judge and didn’t let Ray know that he and Ava had a “spendy” mattress because sleeping on springs hobbled his damned back every morning.

Nothing under the mattress. Ray produced a flashlight and they knelt to take a look under the bed. “Jesus Christ,” muttered Ray. “I need to go inspect under my son’s bed.”

They couldn’t see a thing under the bed; there was too much crap in the way. Shoe boxes, books, shopping bags. Mason reached out to move a sock and changed his mind. “Leave it for the evidence team.” He pointed at Ray. “You take the closet. I’ll go through the dresser.”

He squatted at the dresser and pulled out the bottom drawer. He squeezed and thoroughly shook each item of clothing and then tossed them in a pile on the floor. As he finished each drawer, he dumped the unfolded clothes back in and moved on to the next. Not that the clothes had been folded to start with.

Every home has a unique odor that develops over time from cooking smells, cleanser scents, pets, and everyday cleaning habits . . . or lack thereof. A person acclimates to the smell of his or her own home, but is often slapped in the face by new odors upon entering someone else’s house. The Yoders used a strong-smelling floral laundry detergent that made Mason’s throat itch, and it wafted in huge waves from the drawers. He’d caught a faint scent of it when he’d first met Sally Yoder and assumed it was a perfume. He wondered if Eric’s coworkers thought he smelled like a flower shop.