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.
He knew his wife too well.
He glanced her way now, seeing her huddled behind the steering wheel, Bronco’s dog on the passenger seat beside her.
“I just can’t believe he’s gone.” Jasper took another long drag and expelled smoke through his nose. He was a big man with a rotund belly, dark eyes and a receding hairline, dressed in black, only his white clerical collar giving any indication that he was the pastor of a local church. He watched as two EMTs carried a body bag to the back of an ambulance parked between the Jeep and a cruiser from the department.
He studied the tip of his cigarette and watched the smoke curl toward a sky starting to turn lavender with the coming dusk. “You have to find out who did this. Bring him to justice.”
“We will.” It was a promise Reed intended to keep.
“You said you came by because you hadn’t heard from Bronco—er, Bruno, for a few days. Was that unusual?”
“Not really. I mean, we talked once a week or so, but I just had this feeling. I’d texted and called and he hadn’t returned them, so I came