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refused to press charges. She did go to the shelter for a while though, then went back to him.” Angel chewed on her lower lip.
    “Maybe if she had followed through and left him, he’d still be alive.” Nick straightened and met her gaze.
    Angel didn’t answer. It was far too soon to be making allegations against Candace, but she couldn’t fault Nick for doing the same thing she’d done herself.
    “Where are the kids now?” Nick glanced over at her, hands resting on his hips.
    “The two younger ones are in the barn. I don’t know about the oldest.”
    Angel watched Jill Stafford pick up something off the floor with tweezers and tuck it into an evidence bag.
    “You’re right about one thing, Angel,” Dr. Bennett said. “The guy didn’t commit suicide.”
    “How can you tell—other than the fact that it doesn’t make sense?”
    “His wound indicates that he was shot from about four to five feet away.”
    “So someone did kill him.” Though Angel had no authority here, she couldn’t help thinking about motive. Candace certainly had that, but somehow Angel couldn’t see the woman as a killer. Candace had other options and knew it. She could have gotten a restraining order or gone back to the shelter. And hadn’t Candace told her that Phillip had been doing better, that he hadn’t hurt her lately? Of course, she could have been lying.
    Angel hung around until Nick and the ME placed Jenkins in a body bag and onto a stretcher. Once they removed the body, she breathed a little easier. Terry photographed the empty and stained recliner. A remote control unit lay on its side against the right arm of the chair. That and the fact Jenkins had placed his snacks and drink to his right indicated that he might be right-handed. If that was true, why had the gun been placed in his left hand? If Candace had killed him, wouldn’t she have known to place it in his right hand? Maybe she was too frightened or distracted. Of course, it could mean nothing at all, since a lot of left-handed people are ambidextrous, and his food may have been on his right because that’s where the end table was located. Still, she made a mental note to ask Candace and to mention it to Nick later.
    Angel took another look around the tidy living room. Photos on the mantle depicted a happy family. One showed them posing together on a beach. They were all tan, with sun-bleached hair. There were other photos leaning against the wall, some professional, some from school, some not.
    No dust. The meticulous environment niggled at her. Had Candace and the children been forced to keep the house perfect for Jenkins? Had Candace snapped, unable or unwilling to accommodate him anymore? Had he pushed her too far?
    “You might as well go home, Angel.” Nick settled a hand on her shoulder. “We can take it from here.”
    Angel almost wished she was still working so she’d have a reason to be there other than curiosity and concern for the family. She didn’t want to go—didn’t want to be left out of the loop. Nick was right, she should leave, but his suggestion annoyed her.
    There’s nothing more you can do , she told herself. Nick and the others would gather and sort through the evidence. The medical examiner would perform an autopsy. They’d put all the pieces together and hopefully come up with a suspect.
    Angel made her way outside. Bo stood near his car, talking into his cell phone and looking toward the barn.
    “They’re going to need a place to stay while we’re processing the scene.” Jill came up behind Angel. “We won’t be able to let them in here for a day or two.”
    “I can take care of that,” Angel said, relieved she’d be able to hang around a bit longer.
    Jill nodded. “I’ll tell Nick. We’ll need to go over her car as well. If she shot him, it would have been before she left to pick up the kids—there may be evidence. So maybe you can drive them into town.”
    “Sure. I’ll get them into a hotel—or maybe the