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Those missing hours when he was not with Ashley were the key to what happened to those girls, why Holly and Poppy were murdered and why Rose was still missing. And probably dead as well. But what had Owen been doing? She wanted to drag the words out of Ashley. “So tell me what happened.”
“That’s it. He didn’t stay as long as he said, and when he went to pick up his sisters they were gone. Missing. He came back to my house, freaked beyond freaked and swore he had nothing to do with it. He begged me to give him an alibi because he was certain the cops would say he was somehow involved.”
“So where was he, in the time that he wasn’t with you?”
“He never said and I didn’t ask. I figured it was smarter not to know. So I didn’t mess up my story.” She thought for a second, took another puff. “And maybe I didn’t want to know.”
“Because?” Nikki prodded.
“Because . . . I . . . wasn’t sure. I mean, he wouldn’t hurt the girls, I knew that, but he might have been involved in something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Something illegal. Maybe weed. He was into it. Anyway, then the police started looking at him, I mean looking at him seriously, and Owen was frantic. He begged me to keep quiet. So . . .” she trailed off.
“So you did. For twenty years.”
She bit her lip. “ ’Til now.” She lifted a shoulder. “Look, that’s all I have to say. It’s probably more than I should have.” She put out her cigarette in the planter again, then stood. “Please don’t come back here,” she said, then walked through the door, and Nikki took the hint and climbed back into her CR-V.
Her heart was beating like a drum, her mind spinning, and she drove away from the house, out the drive and down three blocks to a parking lot for a park, and there she stopped and waited.
Because she didn’t trust Ashley Jefferson.
Her confession, about providing Owen with a solid alibi and why she’d done it, came too easily. Was it possible she felt remorse for what she did, that her heart broke for Margaret and Harvey Duval because she, Ashley, was a mother herself? Could it be that Ashley was an emotional wreck and maybe Owen Duval’s death had released her from the bonds of her lie about his whereabouts that night?
Even though Owen was now dead, it seemed a little quick to Nikki that suddenly, after twenty years, Ashley McDonnell Jefferson would open up.
There was a chance Nikki was being a little too jaded, that she was suspicious of everyone. But she waited and after twenty minutes turned on the ignition of her car just as she saw the nose of Ashley Jefferson’s Bentley SUV appear in the driveway, Ashley at the wheel. She barely stopped as she turned onto the street, heading in the direction of the mainland.
“Bingo,” Nikki said under her breath, her pulse ticking up. “Let’s just see where you’re going.”
Perhaps just to the grocery store for a carton of milk or a pack of cigarettes or off to a Pilates class to keep herself in shape.
But Nikki doubted it. No, if she were right, Ashley Jefferson’s destination had little to do with her suburban lifestyle or mommy blog and more to do with Owen Duval and the lies she’d spun for him.
CHAPTER 30
Nikki followed Ashley’s Bentley through Savannah.
She lagged behind the white SUV, maintaining her distance, keeping a couple of cars between her Honda and Ashley’s luxury rig while wondering where the woman was going. Once they were outside the city limits, it seemed she was on a beeline to the Beaumont estate.
Of course.
Back to the scene of the crime where those small bodies had been discovered. She thought of Ashley’s ex boyfriends, Jacob Channing and Tyson Beaumont, both of whom had lived in the area. Could either of them be involved? Or both? Or someone else?
Owen’s death had to be the reason Ashley was on the move.
Right?
Surely—
Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw that the Bentley didn’t cross the bridge and continue on toward the Beaumont estate. Instead, Ashley’s SUV turned sharply right onto Settler’s Road, the narrow country byway where Bronco Cravens’s cabin rested on the bank of the river.
What?
Why—?
Bronco’s cabin was empty, the man dead, the location of a crime scene, so why . . . ?
