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“That I didn’t really remember, but he showed me a clip of the news where you all were looking for Rose Duval and suddenly it all clicked. I remember going to the theater with my sisters and . . . and my brother let us off and we went into the show after we bought some candy.”
“And then?” Reed said, not buying her story for a second. Delacroix was right, the woman was a fraud, either intentional or because she was a nut. He wasn’t sure which.
“And then it gets kind of blurry. I, um, remember being separated from my sisters; they went back to the refreshment stand or the bathroom or whatever and I started looking for them and I must’ve wandered outside but . . . I can’t remember after that.”
“We have tapes from the theater that day,” Delacroix said. “Neither Holly nor Poppy Duval ever went back to the refreshment counter.”
“There weren’t cameras in the bathrooms. That’s illegal.”
Reed said, “The cameras covered the entire lobby, including the entrance to both the men’s and women’s restrooms.”
“But that’s what I remember!” Greta was agitated and on her feet.
“That’s what you read and you added your own story to it.”
“I want my husband and I want him now!” she said, and before Reed could say another word, she grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “I told him this was a big mistake. That you wouldn’t believe me.” With a toss of her head she was out of the room and into the hallway.
“I’ll go get her,” Delacroix said, but Reed shook his head. “We’ve got it all on tape. Too bad we can’t prove it. I was hoping she’d drink from the soda, leave her DNA.”
“We might not need it,” Delacroix said, and snagged a tissue, then kicked back her chair and walked to the door, where she bent down and picked up a shimmery object. The hair clip, tossed off when Greta had flounced out. Delacroix examined it and grinned. “And there’s a couple of hairs still lodged in it. Hopefully with a root ball.” Her smile widened. “We might have our DNA sample whether she knows it or not.”
* * *
“Oh, my God!” The face of the man looming in the doorway of Bronco’s cabin contorted in horror. “Bruno! Bruno! Oh, God, no, Bruno!”
Nikki, nearly hyperventilating, tried to scramble to her feet but slipped in the blood.
The man dropped the shotgun.
He jumped off the porch and fell to his knees next to Nikki before she realized he was Reverend Jasper Cravens, Bronco’s father. “Bruno!” he cried brokenly, grabbing hold of his son’s shoulders and holding the stiff, bloody body close. “No, no, no!!!” His eyes bright with tears, he stared at Nikki. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” she said as relief washed over her despite the frantic beating of her heart. “I came here to ask him some questions and I found him out here.”
“Who did this to my boy!” Tears streamed down the man’s tortured face. “Who did this?”
“I-I don’t know. I just got here and I found him and—”
From the surrounding trees came the sound of a dog whimpering. Jasper’s head snapped up. “Fender?” he called over the distant wail of a siren. “Fender?”
“I called 911,” she said, still wary. Jasper had come with a weapon even though it was lying abandoned on the porch.
A dog with a dirty mottled coat appeared from the shadows.
“Fender. Come here, boy,” Jasper said brokenly, then openly sobbed as he petted the dog and sat next to the body of his son while flies buzzed around them and the gentle rush of the river as it slowly moved downstream was audible.
“Sir, this is a crime scene,” she reminded him gently, and dialed Reed’s cell.
“But my boy. My boy is dead.” Jasper sat on the blood-soaked grass next to the body of Bronco Cravens. Jasper’s big shoulders were shaking as he stroked the dog. “Why?” he whispered, blinking, and again, “Why?” He glanced up at the sky where a few tufts of clouds moved slowly. “Oh, Father,” he cried. “How could you let this happen? Why Bruno? Why my boy?” His voice cracked and he closed his eyes. Almost in prayer, he whispered, “Why have you forsaken me?”
CHAPTER 24
“Who did this to my boy?” Jasper Cravens demanded hoarsely as he stood and smoked a cigarette next to Reed’s Jeep.
“We don’t know yet, but we’ll find out,” Reed assured him. He was still agitated, his stomach in knots, but calming down. Nikki was safe. After receiving her panicked call, he’d feared the worst. He’d driven here and found Nikki with Bronco’s body and Jasper Cravens and two deputies who had received the dispatch from her 911 call. She’d thrown herself into his arms when he’d shown up, but otherwise held it together. She was tough and had been through a lot in her life, but he was still relieved to find her uninjured. He’d held her a long moment, then suggested she wait in her Honda, close enough that they could see each other, while waiting to give her statement to someone on the force other than her husband.
He should’ve been surprised to find her here, still nosing around the case after their last conversation.
He wasn’t.
