Her Final Confession

Chapter Thirty-Four

Robyn Wilkins paced just outside the picket fence encircling her brother’s home. Brown leather boots reached to her knees, covering a dark-blue pair of skin-tight jeans. Over a long-sleeved cream-colored T-shirt, she wore a wine-red pashmina. Her fingers fidgeted with the fringe on the end of it. Long, silky blond hair sat atop her head in a messy bun. Her blue eyes were rimmed red from crying, and her face was drawn. Josie parked her Escape curbside and got out, introducing herself and extending her condolences.

Robyn put one hand to her chest. “Oh my God, it’s you. The chief of police, the one with the twin sister—”

Josie cut her off. “Detective now. I was only interim chief. If you’re not comfortable doing the walk-through with me, I can get Lieutenant—”

Robyn touched Josie’s forearm. “No, no. I’m glad you’re here. It’s a pleasure. I just wasn’t expecting to ever meet you in person, that’s all.”

Not for the first time, Josie wished Trinity hadn’t talked her into doing all those episodes of Dateline. She gestured toward the house. “Shall we?”

A balled-up tissue appeared in Robyn’s other hand, and she swiped it under her nose. “I guess we have to, don’t we?”

One hand on the gate, Josie stopped. “No, we don’t have to do it today. If it’s too difficult, we can reschedule. I certainly understand. But it would be helpful to our investigation if we knew whether or not anything was disturbed or taken.”

Robyn stared straight ahead at the house. Her brow furrowed, as if she was making some kind of decision. Then she took a deep, shuddering breath and said, “I want to get it over with. I mean, I’m going to have to come back soon anyway to get clothes for the funeral, go through their things… oh God.”

Josie gave her a moment to compose herself. Then she nodded, and Josie opened the gate. Side by side they walked up to the front door, and Josie let them in. “We found your brother’s keys inside.”

Robyn pointed to the key hanger mounted on the wall just inside the door. It was made from a piece of driftwood. “My brother made that. He got the driftwood from a beach on the Oregon coast.” Tears welled in her eyes. “They loved to travel. You know, Margie’s parents died when she was a teenager—car accident—they left her a nice little trust fund. Still, she was really good at stretching their travel money. ‘Do more with less,’ she always said. But that’s how they managed to take so many trips.”

“Your parents,” Josie said. “Do they still live in Denton?”

Robyn nodded. “Yes. I told them yesterday. They’re too—too devastated to deal with any of this.”

“I understand,” Josie replied. “It’s good that they have you.”

Aside from the fingerprint dust marring the various surfaces of the house, it was just as the evidence response team had found it the day before. Robyn walked through the rooms slowly, with Josie behind her. “You can touch things,” Josie told her. “Our evidence response team has already processed the house.”

At the door to the master bedroom, Robyn said, “They didn’t take Margie’s engagement ring?”

“No,” Josie said. “It doesn’t appear that anything was stolen. That’s why we’ve asked you to take a walk through. We just need to confirm that there was no robbery.”

They went from room to room, Robyn touring the house three times without finding anything missing or out of place. She asked questions about the crime, about the way the bodies were found, about the timeline, and Josie answered as best she could without compromising their investigation. On Robyn’s final pass, she lingered in the kitchen, standing at the island where Josie imagined she had stood many times while a guest at her brother’s house. It was Josie’s turn to ask questions. “How long did Margie and Joel live here?”

“Oh, about three years. They bought the house before they got married. They knew they would be together forever.”

“I see they were quite adventurous. Did they have a routine at home, or was it different every day?”

Robyn reached to the center of the island, plucked a napkin from the napkin holder, and used it to wipe beneath her eyes. “They stuck to a routine at home. It made things easier. They were both very much into fitness and working out. They were both usually up at six to take a run together, three times around the park, then my brother left for work. Margie didn’t have to be over at the college until later in the day. Margie got her workout in at her job, but Joel usually hit the gym after teaching all day. They were usually both home by six thirty though at the latest. They took turns cooking dinner. All healthy stuff.”

So anyone who wanted to learn their routine would have had an easy time doing so, although it struck Josie that the killer had chosen to attack them when they were home together. Especially when there was a period of time each day that Margie was home alone. Either the killer hadn’t done much reconnaissance at all, or sexual assault hadn’t been the primary reason for the home invasion. Nor had robbery. A chill ran down Josie’s arms. More and more this looked like it was simply murder for the sake of murder.

“I know Lieutenant Fraley probably asked you this already, but was there anyone that Joel and Margie were having trouble with? Possibly feuding with? Anyone giving them trouble? Anyone Margie might have been having a problem with independent of Joel?”

Robyn shook her head. “No, no one I can think of, and believe me, yesterday after I got off the phone with Lieutenant Fraley, I racked my brain. But I couldn’t come up with anyone. My parents couldn’t either. I called a couple of Margie’s friends—women who were bridesmaids at the wedding—to see if they knew of anyone she was having trouble with, and they couldn’t think of anyone either.”

Josie said, “Actually, if you could get me a list of names of her close friends so we can contact them directly, that would be very helpful.”

Robyn nodded. “Of course.” She stood, taking one last pan of the kitchen—and froze. She pointed to the countertop where the coffee maker showed their reflections. “That,” she said. “That’s not theirs.”

Josie followed her gaze to the plastic travel mug beside the coffee maker. The one that said Wawa Coffee on it. “The mug? That was here yesterday when we arrived.”

Robyn walked over to the countertop and went to pick it up, but Josie stopped her with a gentle hand. “Wait,” she said. “Don’t touch it. If you think it’s important, I’ll want to bag it as evidence.”

Robyn snatched her hand back as though she’d been burned, and hugged herself.

Josie sent a quick text to Hummel, asking him to come and retrieve an additional piece of evidence from the Wilkins house. Josie didn’t have any bags or labels with her, and besides that, they’d need to establish a chain of custody. That, and she wanted to double-check the photos taken at the scene the day before against the cup’s current location to make sure no one on her team had disturbed it. “Why do you say it’s not theirs?”

Robyn walked around the kitchen and opened each one of the upper cabinets. “Do you see anything plastic anywhere in this kitchen?”

Josie took a careful scan of the contents of the cabinets. “No,” she said. She stepped over to a cabinet whose bottom shelf was crowded with additional travel mugs much like the Mr. and Mrs. mugs in the drainboard. “They’re all stainless steel,” Josie said.

“Right,” Robyn said. “They thought they were being environmentally conscious and avoiding carcinogens by not using anything plastic. They were the people who brought their own cloth tote bags to the grocery store. They’d never have a plastic coffee mug in this house. Besides, we don’t even have Wawas around here.”

“Wawa is in southeastern Pennsylvania,” Josie said. “New Jersey and Delaware too, I think. They could have picked it up if they were in any of those areas.”

Robyn shook her head emphatically. “Yes, they could have. I’m sure they’ve been to a Wawa at some point in their travels. They did like to go to the Jersey shore in the summers. But they didn’t buy this. Maybe someone on your team left it?”

Josie knew without a doubt that no one on the evidence response team would ever be wandering around an active crime scene with a coffee cup in their hands, much less leave it behind, but she didn’t say this to Robyn. “Or maybe Joel and Margie had a guest who brought it with them?” she suggested.

Robyn’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Yes, I suppose. I mean I don’t remember them having any guests recently, but I don’t know every detail of their lives.”

Josie touched her shoulder and guided her toward the front door. “Regardless, we’ll take it into evidence and I’ll ask the lab if they can try to get some prints from it. We have to treat everything as potential evidence.”

Robyn nodded. “Thank you.”