The Patrick Bowers Files - 05 - The Queen by Steven James

could. You know how often this happens all over the country.
    I tried to shake that troubling thought, found it nearly impossible. Finally, I turned away from the girl and went to the far door, the master bedroom.
    Staying in the hall, I peered inside.
    The bed was neatly made, covered with a checkered quilt. Light purple walls brought a calm mood to the room. The closet door stood slightly ajar. On the bed stand: a Thomas H. Cook novel, and a cell phone charging beside a small lamp.
    Closing my eyes again I tried to picture how things might have played out, but I was interrupted by Jake, who’d joined me on the landing. “So that’s the girl.” He spoke softly, with a reverence I wouldn’t have expected.
    I opened my eyes. “Yes.”
    He was looking at Lizzie. “I hate it when it’s kids.”
    For the second time today we agreed about something.
    â€œSo do I.”
    A small moment passed between us, and I sensed that neither of us could think of the right thing to say.
    â€œAll right,” I said at last. “Let’s reconstruct this, try to figure out what happened here at 1:48 this afternoon.”

9
    Jake’s gaze moved toward the staircase. “Well, it’s pretty obvious Lizzie was leaving the bathroom and Ardis was on her way down the stairs. Probably fleeing.”
    I nodded. “The killer was back here near the master bedroom when he shot Lizzie. I think Ardis was in Lizzie’s bedroom when he did. Probably putting the laundry away.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?”
    â€œThe shirt drawer is still open, there are folded shirts on the bed. Someone was interrupted putting them away. And if Ardis had been in the master bedroom and tried to flee, she would’ve had to get past the shooter and most likely would’ve been killed on the landing.”
    â€œHmm,” Jake reflected. “So the killer ascends the stairs, positions himself where you are, and the bathroom door opens. Lizzie appears. He shoots her.”
    â€œThat alerts Ardis”—I was thinking aloud—“who leaves Lizzie’s bedroom, sees her daughter lying in the bathroom doorway.”
    It was possible that Ardis had been descending the stairs and the killer shot her first before Lizzie left the bathroom, but it seemed more likely that a child would be frightened by the sound of a gunshot and stay in the bathroom, hoping that her mother would come to check on her. For now, I proceeded as if the order of events was along the lines of what we were thinking. “What’s the first thing you do,” I said, “if you hear a gunshot and then find the body of your daughter?”
    â€œRun,” Jake said. “Call 911.”
    I evaluated his answer. “Before that you’d check to see if your child was alive, then you’d look around to see where the shooter is. To see if you’re in danger too. And if you are—”
    â€œYou’d run.”
    â€œOr hide.” I was studying the angles of the staircase and the location of Lizzie’s body. Would you respond differently if you knew the shooter? If it was your husband? I imagined you would but thought the specific response would depend on the state of the relationship. At the moment, postulating any further bordered on trying to decipher motives, which is something I try to steer clear of doing. “Remember, it’s possible Lizzie wasn’t dead when Ardis found her.”
    Jake looked at me questioningly.
    â€œIt seems probable that Ardis didn’t see the shooter or else she would’ve hidden in the bathroom or been killed on the landing rather than making it nearly all the way down the stairs.”
    â€œOkay,” he said. “So the killer steps into the master bedroom, then hears Ardis descending the stairs. He rushes out and shoots her before she reaches the bottom.” He contemplated that for a moment. “So what about the bullet holes in the