up on Friday morning, he happened to look in Jenny’s room. At that early hour, she was usually getting ready for school. But not that morning; she wasn’t there. Diane was just getting up when he came back into the bedroom.
“Where’s Jenny?” Randall asked.
“Well, ain’t she in her room?” Diane replied.
“No, she’s not.”
Diane quickly got out of bed and looked in Jenny’s room. The bedclothes were intact. It was clear that Jenny had not come home last night. Diane Robinson felt that emptiness in the pit of her stomach that every parent dreads. She tried to make herself believe that Jenny had just slept with Jeremiah. She was over at his place and too ashamed to call. Still …
“This ain’t like Jenny,” said Diane portentously, “not to come home or call or anything.”
For now, there was nothing to be done. Randall would be there all day before going to work. Diane had to attend the cookout. Figuring activity would get her mind off her worries, Diane left with her baked beans and drove into Pensacola, passing the Corner Store on the way.
Elijah Waldrop had stopped in there to buy a pack of cigarettes. Behind the counter was the woman who had told Jenny that if she were younger, she would go out with Jeremiah.
“You seen Jennifer?” the clerk asked anxiously. “She never come home last night and her family’s worried sick.”
Elijah said he hadn’t.
“You seen your brother?”
“No, he comes and goes everywhere. What did he do now?”
“Oh, nothing, we just don’t know where Jennifer’s at. And she had a date with Jeremiah last night”
Elijah didn’t let on, but he was worried. While he knew nothing, his intuition was eating at him. “You never know about Jeremiah, he’ll do anything,” Elijah said later in a statement to police.
He tooled over to Jeremiah’s house. No one was home, so he hung out. After a while, he remembered he had to get some gas and other stuff. “So I started to leave. I pulled out of my brother’s yard, to go up one street from mine. I turned and there was Jeremiah, hauling ass up the street. He went up Fowler and he whipped over toward Jenny’s yard. I thought I saw him stopping, so I kept going,” Elijah continued in his statement. Elijah kept driving to his house and “as soon as I pulled up in my front yard, he come, you know, skidding in my front yard.”
Jeremiah Rodgers jumped out, brandishing a twelve-pack of Busch beer.
“Man, drink a beer with me,” said Rodgers, agitated. “I’m so nervous. I’m gonna go to prison! I’m gonna die for this!”
“Slow down, tell me what in the hell you did.”
“Well, man, you gotta, you gotta swear to me, swear to me, that you won’t never tell nobody.”
“If it’s something bad, man, I can’t swear on it, ’cause you just can’t do that. I mean, if it’s something bad, man?” his brother asked desperately. “I can’t swear on it. You just can’t do that.”
It was a beautiful day in early spring, when the Panhandle starts to bloom. There was a cedar tree that overhangs the truck for shade. The brothers were standing under it. Elijah sipped his beer. It might have been just another spring day, were it not for the stack of pictures that Rodgers suddenly threw down on the hood of the truck. The stack was almost an inch thick.
“Go on, look,” Rodgers urged.
Elijah picked up the pictures, he told police. By his own rough count, Elijah figured there were eight to ten Polaroids in the stack. There were different ones of a girl, positioned in different ways. Elijah didn’t see her until he got about halfway through the stack. Then he saw the picture with her face clearly evident. Right then and there, he knew that it was Jennifer.
“What in the hell happened?” Elijah asked his brother.
“That fucking Jon, he shot her! He killed her! Blew her brains out!”
Elijah looked down at the pictures in his hand. There was Jennifer, lying on the ground, with blood all over her face,
“Where’s Jenny?” Randall asked.
“Well, ain’t she in her room?” Diane replied.
“No, she’s not.”
Diane quickly got out of bed and looked in Jenny’s room. The bedclothes were intact. It was clear that Jenny had not come home last night. Diane Robinson felt that emptiness in the pit of her stomach that every parent dreads. She tried to make herself believe that Jenny had just slept with Jeremiah. She was over at his place and too ashamed to call. Still …
“This ain’t like Jenny,” said Diane portentously, “not to come home or call or anything.”
For now, there was nothing to be done. Randall would be there all day before going to work. Diane had to attend the cookout. Figuring activity would get her mind off her worries, Diane left with her baked beans and drove into Pensacola, passing the Corner Store on the way.
Elijah Waldrop had stopped in there to buy a pack of cigarettes. Behind the counter was the woman who had told Jenny that if she were younger, she would go out with Jeremiah.
“You seen Jennifer?” the clerk asked anxiously. “She never come home last night and her family’s worried sick.”
Elijah said he hadn’t.
“You seen your brother?”
“No, he comes and goes everywhere. What did he do now?”
“Oh, nothing, we just don’t know where Jennifer’s at. And she had a date with Jeremiah last night”
Elijah didn’t let on, but he was worried. While he knew nothing, his intuition was eating at him. “You never know about Jeremiah, he’ll do anything,” Elijah said later in a statement to police.
He tooled over to Jeremiah’s house. No one was home, so he hung out. After a while, he remembered he had to get some gas and other stuff. “So I started to leave. I pulled out of my brother’s yard, to go up one street from mine. I turned and there was Jeremiah, hauling ass up the street. He went up Fowler and he whipped over toward Jenny’s yard. I thought I saw him stopping, so I kept going,” Elijah continued in his statement. Elijah kept driving to his house and “as soon as I pulled up in my front yard, he come, you know, skidding in my front yard.”
Jeremiah Rodgers jumped out, brandishing a twelve-pack of Busch beer.
“Man, drink a beer with me,” said Rodgers, agitated. “I’m so nervous. I’m gonna go to prison! I’m gonna die for this!”
“Slow down, tell me what in the hell you did.”
“Well, man, you gotta, you gotta swear to me, swear to me, that you won’t never tell nobody.”
“If it’s something bad, man, I can’t swear on it, ’cause you just can’t do that. I mean, if it’s something bad, man?” his brother asked desperately. “I can’t swear on it. You just can’t do that.”
It was a beautiful day in early spring, when the Panhandle starts to bloom. There was a cedar tree that overhangs the truck for shade. The brothers were standing under it. Elijah sipped his beer. It might have been just another spring day, were it not for the stack of pictures that Rodgers suddenly threw down on the hood of the truck. The stack was almost an inch thick.
“Go on, look,” Rodgers urged.
Elijah picked up the pictures, he told police. By his own rough count, Elijah figured there were eight to ten Polaroids in the stack. There were different ones of a girl, positioned in different ways. Elijah didn’t see her until he got about halfway through the stack. Then he saw the picture with her face clearly evident. Right then and there, he knew that it was Jennifer.
“What in the hell happened?” Elijah asked his brother.
“That fucking Jon, he shot her! He killed her! Blew her brains out!”
Elijah looked down at the pictures in his hand. There was Jennifer, lying on the ground, with blood all over her face,
Similar Books
