The Third Grave (Savannah #4) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,29
be a hundred!”
That part Reed believed.
But Delacroix wasn’t moved. “So you waded through the muck in the basement to the far wall and found the latch to the crypt.”
“Yeah, that’s about it.” He was nodding.
“Kind of intricate, isn’t it?” she pointed out. “Not all that easy to get into.”
Bronco frowned and Reed noticed a bead of sweat running from his temple. “Well, the damned door was open and I . . . I peeked in and damn, but one of those skulls seemed to be starin’ straight at me!” He gave a shudder.
She asked, “What time was this?”
“’Bout ten minutes before I made the call. I got in my truck and me and the dog came here, I called, took a shower and . . . and drove into town.”
“To the Red Knuckle?” Reed asked.
“Yeah.” Bronco’s head snapped up. “You had me followed?”
“Well, yeah. After we figured out who made the call, we started looking for you,” Reed explained. “Do you have any idea how long those bodies have been up there?”
“Hell, no! I didn’t know they were there.”
Delacroix interjected, “What about identifying them? Do you know who they were?”
“Shit, no! They looked like girls, I guess. I mean, they were wearin’ girl things, but . . . wait!” He focused on Reed. “What is this? How would I know who they were? Wait a minute? Are you . . . ? Are you suggestin’ I knew something about how they got up there? What happened to them? Shit, I got no fuckin’ . . . no clue!” He scraped his pack of Winstons from the table and shook out another cigarette. His hands visibly trembled as he snapped his lighter over the end of his filter tip. “What the hell are you trying to pull here?” He squinted through the smoke. “I did you all a favor. I found the bodies, got the hell out, called fu—effin’ 911 and that’s all I know.”
Delacroix said, “But your grandfather, he might have—”
“He’s fuckin’ dead!”
“—might have told you about them?”
“No way! Wynn didn’t know nothin’ . . . or at least he didn’t tell me ’bout any damned dead girls. The only dead one I know who died up there was that girl whose ghost that’s hangin’ out there. Nell or Nellie or whatever. But no.”
“You know the bodies are girls?” Delacroix asked, dead serious.
“Well, hell, I think so. Like I just told you! One of ’em was wearin’ a locket and a bra . . . oh, shit, I want a lawyer!”
“No need for that,” Reed said, “though, of course, you could call one and we can go downtown, make this real official. But we’re just asking about what you found.”
“You’re not arresting me?” he asked.
Delacroix asked, “Should we?”
“Hell, no! If I was guilty, would I have called the goddamned police? Huh? I was doin’ my civic duty.”
“Anonymously,” she pointed out, and didn’t bother to hide the irritation in her voice.
“No shit. Because of this. I didn’t want to go through all this.” Bronco rolled his eyes to the ceiling and let out a lungful of smoke on a sigh. “I shouldn’t of done it. I knew it. Calling the cops is always a bad, bad idea.”
“No one’s arresting anyone,” Reed said, sending a pointed look to his newbie of a partner. “We’re just talking. That’s all. Just trying to figure out what’s going on.”
“The way I look at it, you all should be grateful I even made the call,” Bronco said.
“We are.”
Delacroix shot him a glare that accused him of being a liar, but Reed ignored it and Bronco relaxed a little. “Fine then.” Leaning back on the couch, he glowered at Delacroix, then focused on Reed and, with urging, told them what he knew, though Reed thought he was still holding back. On the way back to the station, Delacroix said, “He’s lying. Not about everything, but he’s holding something back.” She rolled down the passenger window. “And I smell like an old cigarette butt. He was nervous, couldn’t keep from playing with his pack and lighting one after another. He knows more than he’s saying.”
“Maybe he’ll have a come-to-Jesus moment and tell us everything.”
“That guy?” Delacroix snorted and pulled a face. “I’m not putting any money on that. He lies like that rug his dog was sleeping on.”
Reed couldn’t argue. He dropped her off at the station to pick up her car, then swung by the hospital to check on Morrisette.