gave Jerry the chance to dodge Jonah. That wouldn’t do because Jonah didn’t have time for games.
Jerry Locke lived in Southbridge, a prestigious golf club community with immaculate lawns and stunning homes. It seemed like the man had bounced back pretty nicely if he could afford to retire in this neighborhood.
His house was a massive replica of Tara from Gone with the Wind. Pretty, but not Jonah’s style. He parked behind a newer Mercedes Benz before walking up to the home and ringing the doorbell.
When the door opened, Jonah didn’t need to confirm the identity of the man who greeted him. It was uncanny how much this man looked like Royce Locke. If Sawyer wanted to know how well Royce was going to age, all he had to do was meet Uncle Jerry. The answer was really fucking well. The man’s blond hair was still thick and shot through with only a hint of gray. The laugh lines next to his eyes and mouth added character instead of detracting from his appeal. It was apparent he worked out and maintained his body well. Most noticeable was the appreciative once-over Uncle Jerry gave Jonah.
Jerry met Jonah’s gaze and smiled. “Can I help you?”
“Are you Jerry Locke?” he asked.
“Yes,” Jerry said, his smile never faltering.
“I’m a friend of your nephew’s,” Jonah replied.
There went the smile, and Jonah wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have led with that. “Which one?” Jerry asked warily.
“Royce,” Jonah replied, hoping it was the right answer. He knew there was a younger brother he hadn’t met yet.
The smile returned, and Jonah breathed a sigh of relief. “Would you like to come in?”
“Don’t you want to know why I’m here first?” Jonah asked. It never ceased to amaze him how trusting some people still were.
“I mean, if it makes you feel better to tell me, then sure,” Jerry quipped.
“My name is Jonah St. John, and I’m with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation,” Jonah said, hoping Jerry didn’t ask to see his badge. “I’m investigating the 1982 murder of Earl Ison. I’m interviewing anyone who might’ve worked with him before his death.”
“Oh,” Jerry said softly. “I’d read about the new information in the paper. It wasn’t that I’ve never thought of Earl, but I at least felt some sense of closure when I thought his killer had confessed and was dead.”
Jonah recognized the emotion washing over the man’s handsome features. It was the same expression he saw when he interviewed Earl’s friends and in Agnes Cahill’s eyes when she spoke about her late husband.
Grief.
Jerry Locke wasn’t just Earl’s former boss. Their bond was much tighter, possibly intimate.
“Can I still come in?”
“Oh, yes. Sure,” Jerry said, gathering himself. “Forgive my rudeness.” He stepped aside and gestured for Jonah to enter the house. “Would you like to sit out back on the patio and talk? It’s my favorite spot.”
“Sounds great.”
The glimpses of the interior Jonah saw were as expensive and impressive as the exterior. When they reached the back patio, Jonah understood why it was Jerry’s favorite part. He’d only met the man two minutes ago, but the comfortable seating area, built-in barbecue, and pool felt more like his style than the fussy furniture he saw during his quick pass through the house.
“Is that one of those brick pizza ovens?” Jonah asked.
“It is,” Jerry said, nodding. “We only moved into this house last month and haven’t tried it out yet.”
“You have a beautiful home.”
“And you’re wondering why a concrete guy like me lives here, right?” Jerry asked.
“Not really.”
“You want to know about Earl,” Jerry said, breaking eye contact and looking out over his back yard. Jonah followed his gaze. Beyond the ornamental fence marking the property perimeter, a golf cart drove along the lushly green course. “It feels like an eternity since I’ve even spoken his name.”
“Did Earl work for you long?” Jonah asked. He wanted to start out with questions he already knew the answers to so he could gauge Jerry’s honesty and willingness to speak openly to him.
Jerry met his gaze once more, and a wry smile spread across his face. He shook his head and said, “Earl was all thumbs and two left feet. He might’ve lasted two weeks.”
Jonah laughed. “That’s what Marla said.”
“I recognize the name. She was Earl’s best friend—the one who encouraged him to start performing.”
“Marla is my neighbor and a dear friend. She’s the reason why we’ve reopened the case,” Jonah explained. “She never believed Bo Cahill killed Earl.”
Jerry ran a hand through his hair. “How