She knew who killed her father, but she couldn't squeal. The detective was due any minute to examine the body, and she had to get out of there before he got to the house. She took a swig of water from her bottle and set it down next to her dead dad, but realized that the detective would surely dust it for fingerprints if he found it, making her suspect number one. She quickly snatched it back up and screwed the lid back on, looking at her father on the couch.
"Good luck," she whispered, scurrying to the door and slipping on her shoes. She opened the door quickly, and standing in the doorway was the detective.