While Zach swallowed what sounded like a snort, Savannah grinned at her aunt. Brody James had probably not been called sweet since he was in diapers. Zach had introduced her to him when they arrived at the hospital. The man was well over six feet tall and more than two hundreds pounds of mostly muscle. A look from his dark brown eyes would make the meanest criminal turn tail and run. But Aunt Gibby had always had a different way of looking at people.
“Do you need anything?”
Gibby shook her head. “Hester, bless her heart, is coming back in a few minutes with some of my things. She’s also going to take care of Samson and Oscar for the next few days.” Waving her hand at them, she closed her eyes. “You go on now and find out who this terrible person is before he hurts someone else.”
Savannah leaned over and kissed Gibby’s forehead, feeling an intense affection for the woman who had been in her life for as long as she could remember. They had often laughed at Gibby’s antics and tolerated her eccentricities. This incident had brought home to Savannah just how much she loved the older woman. It could have been so much worse.
Zach opened the door for her and they walked out of the room together. Brody was leaning against the wall. Heavily muscled arms were crossed in front of him in a forbidding pose, the vivid tattoos on them making him look all the more fierce.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice and looking out for Gibby. She’s very special to me.”
Brody gave a nod. “My pleasure, ma’am. She’s a real sweet woman.”
Savannah held back a laugh. Apparently both Brody and Gibby thought the other was sweet.
“Besides,” Brody continued, “Zach only has to ask. He knows Logan and I would do anything for him.”
Based on her earlier conversation with Zach, Savannah knew that both Brody and Logan had served with him in the army. She was surprised to see a slight flush of color on Zach’s cheeks at Brody’s words. There was definitely a story there.
Zach backslapped Brody once again and then they headed outside, back to the patrol car.
Savannah breathed in the hot, humid air of another steamy summer’s day in Midnight. Everything seemed peaceful, normal and nonthreatening. The phrase “still waters run deep” aptly fit this town. Who would have guessed that her lazy little hometown held a murderer in its easygoing, laid-back midst?
Suddenly remembering a question she’d meant to ask Zach the moment she saw him this morning, she said, “The police and coroner’s reports. Did you have a chance to find them?”
His already grim face went darker. “Yes and no.”
She stopped in the middle of the parking lot. “What does that mean?”
“The police report was half-assed … barely one page. No photographs of the scene. Two statements from witnesses claiming your father was enraged at the country club. One statement from the bartender at Shorty’s Bar saying your father had four bourbons. Two more witness statements from the bar’s patrons who said he sat at the bar drinking for a couple of hours and then left.”
“No photographs?” Savannah shook her head, appalled at how unprofessional and inept Mosby had been. “What about the coroner’s report? There should be a—” She broke off abruptly when he started shaking his head.
“Only one coroner’s report—your mother’s. Nothing for your daddy.”
“That makes no sense. There has to be.”
“If there was, it’s been lost or was destroyed.”
At a loss, she could only stare at him. She would review the police report and coroner’s report for her mother’s death, but it was the one for her father she had hoped to glean the most information from. That report was the only substantial piece of evidence she would have had to prove that he didn’t kill himself. The coroner would have pointed out any other injuries her father had, including defensive wounds. Beckett Wilde would have fought tooth and nail to save not only his life, but also his wife’s. The murderer would have had to be as large as or even larger than her father to be able to hang him. And he would have fought with all of his might to prevent that. The report could have revealed so much. Without it, she had nothing.
Unknowingly, she spoke the words out loud. “What am I going to do?”
“Not you, Savannah. We. And what we’re going to do is find out who killed your parents.”