She nodded. “Mom was reading to me, and she sat up when she heard a sound. She whispered for me to hide in the closet, so I scrambled into it and hid in the back.” Paradise could almost smell the vanilla sachet in her memory. “I peeked from under the clothes and saw her bare feet when she grabbed a baseball bat and turned toward the door.”
Her mouth went dry, and she had to swallow before she could continue. “Mom screamed, and I heard the baseball bat smackinto something. I didn’t scream though, and the intruder never found me. We thought for a while it was Sheriff Davis, but the man I caught a glimpse of was slim and strong, not bulky like the sheriff.”
Booker shot her a surprised glance. “You suspected the sheriff?” His wife returned with a tray of iced sweet tea and handed the glasses around.
Paradise accepted one. “His wife told us he and my mom were having an affair.”
Booker shook his head. “It’s interesting Bea would lie when she knew better.”
“She said he’d asked for a divorce to marry my mom, then changed his mind.”
Booker gave a disgusted snort. “She knew that wasn’t true.”
Paradise glanced at Blake and saw the same confusion on his face that she felt. “Then why was he over there all the time?”
“Gerald Davis was protecting you guys.”
It took a second for the words to penetrate. “Protectingus? From what?”
Booker glanced from her to Drew. “The sheriff knew your dad, Drew. Once your dad found Becky again, that summer before the murders, he asked Sheriff Davis to watch out for her. He thought that when he told his wife he wanted a divorce, she might try to hurt Becky.”
Drew leaned forward. “What’s my father’s name?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did. Gerald wouldn’t tell me. He spilled this much the night of the murders. He was talking crazy—saying it was his fault and he should have protected her. When I questioned him, he told me he was supposed to protect her, but then he clammed up. I was never able to get more out of him.”
Paradise almost spilled the glass of tea in her hand. Blake put his hand on her knee and whispered, “Steady.”
She set her free hand on top of his and gulped. This changed everything.
Paradise felt as though she might throw up the few gulps of sweet tea residing in her stomach. As they entered Pelican Harbor, she ran her window down in Blake’s truck and inhaled the aroma of freshly mown grass and salt water. Booker hadn’t had any other evidence to offer, but his bombshell had been enough to shake the foundations of all they thought they knew about the case.
Blake pulled into Bea’s driveway. “You sure you want to do this now? I think we’re all shell-shocked, and I’m not sure we’ll have the right questions.”
“I have plenty of questions,” Paradise said.
Drew shoved open his door in the back seat. “And I want answers.”
Blake shut off the engine and opened his door. “We can always come back.”
Paradise hadn’t called Bea because she wanted the element of surprise. She was relieved when she spotted Bea’s curly salt-and-pepper hair from where she was bent over pulling weeds in the front flower bed. She wore capris and a sleeveless shirt. A wide-brimmed hat shaded her face from the bright sunlight. She stood and faced them when the truck doors slammed.
Her smile dimmed when they neared, and her gaze darted from Paradise to Blake before landing on Drew. “I-is something wrong?” Her soft Southern drawl trembled, and her hand went to her throat.
Paradise reached out and brushed cobwebs from Bea’s hair. “Looks like you’ve been in the attic or the basement.”
Bea leaned over and brushed her hair vigorously. “Going through Gerald’s man cave in the basement.” She straightened and planted her hands on her hips. “What’s going on?”
“We learned some disturbing news today.” Paradise gestured at her brother. “This is my brother, Drew. Andrew Bartley.”
“You found him.”
“Yes.” Paradise forced her fists to unfurl. They were standing there like guards about to take the woman in front of a firing squad. Toning down the immediate accusations might get more answers. “I’m sorry to burst in on you without warning, but we just came from talking to Booker Lewis. We think whoever murdered my parents killed Drew’s father first.”
Bea put her hand to her mouth. “His father is dead? When did this happen?”
“The week before my parents were murdered. Your husband wasn’t having an affair with my mother at all. Why did you tell me he was?”
Bea paled and took a step back. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
