Love Her To Death (46 page)

“I want her out,” Joanne had said probably more times than she wanted to recall, back when Adrienne lived in the house the first time. Later, Joanne admitted that she was scared for her two boys. Adrienne had made an “accusation” against her stepfather in Texas, recanted, then made the accusation again. Joanne was concerned that she might do the same with one of her boys.

But ever since Adrienne had been back, she and Joanne—although not skipping stones together, or taking sunset walks along the mighty Mississippi—had reached an impasse and decided to get along. Joanne and Adrienne had a scheduled session with a therapist on that Friday afternoon, January 21, a follow up to a
session the previous Friday, which, according to Joanne, “went very well.”

In truth, they had reconciled.

When Joanne walked past Adrienne’s room on her way to the bathroom, she noticed Adrienne’s work garments laid out.

Odd,
Joanne thought, stopping, staring.
She should be at work.

From there, Joanne took a quick peek around the house. Nothing had been touched. She had asked Adrienne to empty the dishwasher and do a few additional chores. Adrienne had always done what she was told to, as far as her chores went. But Joanne was quickly succumbing to the
opposite
of one of those feelings you get when you know someone has been inside your house. In fact, she felt no one had been home all day long. Which was strange.

“Tony?” Joanne yelled. Tony was glad to be home—a Friday night, especially—from his truck-driving shift. Ten hours on the road wreaked havoc on his back. Tony needed some rest.

“Yeah?” Tony answered.

Joanne knew Adrienne had to work that night. “I woke her up this morning,” she told Tony. “She told me she had to be in at five.”

“Ain’t dat right,” Tony said in a heavy drawl.

They both peered into Adrienne’s room. There, on the floor in front of them, was Adrienne’s work uniform. The room was a mess—as most teenagers feel that cleaning is one of those “things” that can wait until later on in life.

“Yeah, she said five.” Joanne was certain.

“She done went to work without her uniform?” Tony asked, more to himself than Joanne. He looked at his watch. It was close to five. Adrienne should have been home to get dressed and head out to work, maybe ask one of them for a ride.

Joanne spotted Adrienne’s work shoes on the floor. She’d never go to work without them. Moreover, Adrienne Reynolds was not a teen who blew off her shift. She loved the job at Checkers, a nearby fast-food joint. It was easy. Very little stress. Plus, it put a little pocket money in her purse. She generally got home from school at noon. Adrienne was in a special GED program at the Black-hawk College Outreach Center nearby, on the Avenue of the Cities. High school had been something Adrienne, to put it mildly, despised. So much so, she had not accumulated any credits to graduate—heading toward the end of her sophomore year—and would need to step it up in order to get her GED. The outreach center program fit Adrienne’s school work ethic, her attitude toward education in general. No homework. Everything you did, you completed at school. You got out by noon. This allowed a people person, like Adrienne, lots of time for socializing, which was something the young girl had put at the top of her “to do” list every morning.

“Adrienne,” an old friend said, “wanted to be liked. She loved to have friends.”

Slightly concerned, Joanne called a few family members and friends, while Tony went about his daily routine, undeterred by Adrienne’s uniform lying there on the floor. Who knew—maybe she had two uniforms? Perhaps she didn’t have to work, after all.

“I was not the least bit worried,” Tony later said. “Not then.”

Adrienne had been making lots of friends since moving into town. She was always hanging out with someone. One of her favorite places these days was the teen center at the YMCA. And, of course, the local mall.

Ten minutes went by. Joanne made several additional calls. “No one’s heard from her,” Joanne told Tony. Joanne didn’t like the feeling she had in saying those words. Something was wrong. She could sense it.

Gut instinct.

“Let’s take a ride to Checkers,” Tony suggested.

It would be a journey opening up a mystery that would end with the most gruesome, sinister set of circumstances and murder that East Moline has ever experienced—with a group of teens, their leader a young girl no one seemed to know much about, at the center.

A
BOUT THE
A
UTHOR

Crime expert, television personality, lecturer, and investigative journalist M. William Phelps is the national best-selling, award-winning author of fifteen nonfiction books, all of which are still in print. Winner of the 2008 New England Book Festival Award for
I’ll Be Watching You,
Phelps has appeared on CBS’s
Early Show,
truTV, the Discovery Channel, Fox News Channel, ABC’s
Good Morning America,
The Learning Channel, Biography Channel, History Channel,
Montel Williams,
Investigative Discovery,
Geraldo At Large,
USA Radio Network, Catholic Radio, ABC News Radio, and Radio America, which calls him “the nation’s leading authority on the mind of the female murderer.” Phelps has been profiled in such noted publications as
Writer’s Digest, New York Daily News, Newsday, Albany Times-Union, Hartford C
ourant, Forensic Nursing, and New York Post. He has also consulted for the Showtime cable-television series Dexter. And has been a recurrent, featured guest on ID’s hit show Deadly Women. Phelps lives in a small Connecticut farming community and can be reached at his author website, www.mwilliamphelps.com.

Surrounding the Roseboros’ Denver/Reinholds, Pennsylvania, home, in and around Lancaster County, the Amish still hold true to the values of their ancestors.
(Author’s collection)

Some call Lancaster County “God’s Chosen Land,” where the rolling hills collide with fairy-tale sunsets.
(Author’s collection)

The Roseboro family called Denver home.
(Author’s collection)

Pretty and intelligent, Jan Roseboro was the ideal mother, neighbor, friend, and wife.
(Courtesy of Shawn Roseboro)

Jan liked to dress down. Here she is heading into Fulton Bank on July 22, 2008, unaware that a murderer was planning her death for that same night.
(Courtesy of the East Cocalico Township Police Department)

East Cocalico Township PD Detective Keith Neff, who had never investigated a murder, was determined to find Jan Roseboro’s killer.
(Author’s collection)