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“Your son,” Reed reminded him.
The preacher’s face crumpled. “Man. The trouble with the Beaumont men is that they all had wandering eyes. Started out with Arthur and, according to my dad, went right down the line. Grandfather, father and son.”
“Meaning Arthur, Baxter and Tyson.”
“According to my dad and he wasn’t one to talk idly. But it came out. He was disgusted by it, y’know. He’d lost my mother early on and missed her every day of his life, so he didn’t understand how some men could . . . stray, if you know what I mean.”
A deputy walked by and Jasper asked to bum another cigarette.
“Sure.” The deputy pulled a pack from his pocket and they both lit up.
“Thanks. I’m gonna quit again tomorrow.”
“Right,” the deputy said as if he didn’t believe the preacher as he walked toward the house and Jasper drew deep, the tip of his cigarette glowing red in the gloaming. He asked Reed, “You think that’s why my boy was killed? Over some supposed pie-in-the-sky treasure?”
“I don’t know,” Reed said, “yet.” But it was a place to start.
Jasper watched a bat skim by as the first of the stars began to wink in the darkening sky and the lights in Bronco Cravens’s home glowed through the windows, two members of the crime scene team still working, one pushing a vacuum cleaner, the rumble audible through the open front door. “This is a test, you know,” he finally said. “The Father, He’s testing me.”
“How?”
“By taking my son from me just a few weeks after Wynn, my dad.” His lips compressed. “A test of my faith.”
“You think God would have your son murdered just to see how devout you are?” Reed couldn’t hide his skepticism.
“Everything in life is a test,” the reverend said, and Reed bit his tongue. People believed what they believed and even if you argued with them, they rarely changed their minds, only got angry, and the man had just lost his son to a violent end. “Can I go now? I’ll take the dog.” Again, he blinked against tears.
“Sure. If you think of anything else, give me a call.”
Jasper cleared his throat. “I will.”
* * *
Nikki listened through the open window of her Honda and though she couldn’t hear all of the conversation, she caught bits and pieces that drifted on the air with the acrid scent of burning tobacco. She had her iPhone set to her best recording app and hoped that it could pick up the conversation. With her free hand, she petted the dog who sat shivering in the front seat, but she was tuned in to what Jasper Cravens was telling Reed about his son and the Beaumont family.
The parts she did hear agreed with what she’d already learned and also melded with what she remembered from her own childhood.
She saw Delacroix approaching and slid her phone into the side pocket of the door as Delacroix opened the passenger-side door. “I didn’t know you were here,” she said to the dog as Jasper approached.
“I’ll get him,” the preacher said, then whistled sharply. “Come on, Fender, guess you’re my dog now.”
The heeler hopped onto the ground, following the older man as Delacroix brushed off the seat and slid inside. “Detective Jade Delacroix,” she said. “Don’t think we’ve formally met.”
“Nikki Gillette.”
“Right.” She nodded, pulled out her phone and a notepad from a jacket pocket. “Detective Reed thought it best if I take your statement, so as there’s no hint of conflict of interest or . . . well, whatever. Since he’s your husband.”
“Got it.” Headlights flashed into the interior as a car engine started, and she caught a glimpse of Reverend Cravens backing around one of the county SUVs and driving away, taillights winking a bright red.
Jade pulled the door closed and sat with her back pressed between the passenger seat and door so she could get a good look at Nikki even though the interior of the car was dark. “Let’s start with why you’re here and how you found Bruno.”
“I’m a reporter, doing a piece on the history of the Beaumont estate and I knew Bronco—er, Bruno—had been over there recently, that he discovered the bodies of the girls who were hidden there, the Duval sisters. I thought he could give me
some insight about the property as his family is tied into the Beaumonts. His property, this cabin and the acres surrounding, originally belonged to the Beaumonts, and his grandfather worked for the family for decades.” She went on to explain about driving to the Red Knuckle, then out here and walking through the house to find Bronco’s body.
Delacroix listened in silence, dark eyes observing Nikki closely, as if studying a bug under a microscope, searching for cracks. Lies. As if something in Nikki’s expression, some little idiosyncrasy like a tic near her eye or a vein throbbing in her temple or her tongue licking her lips nervously would give Nikki’s lies away.
Or was it because she found it fascinating and unlikely that Nikki was married to Reed?
