The Third Grave (Savannah #4) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,51

the child’ mentality. But then I knew he didn’t care that much, not really. The fact that he left me, in all of my grief and despair, when our daughters were missing, for the love of God. Who does that and remarries and starts another family? It’s like he just didn’t care.”

Or couldn’t face the horror of the truth.

Delacroix appeared as he was still going over the statements. “What did you find out from the father?” she asked.

“Not a lot. He seems to be devastated, but then who wouldn’t be?”

“Right.”

“Catch me up,” he suggested, as in the interest of speeding the investigation along, they’d split up and interviewed different people during the past day and a half.

“Okay.” She sat on the corner of Morrisette’s desk and scrolled through her phone. “First up, Tyson and Baxter Beaumont, the father and son, came in and gave statements about the property where the victims were found. I typed them up, they signed, and I sent you a copy just this morning.” She glanced up from her screen. “Nothing of importance that I could find. Nothing we didn’t really know. I asked them why they thought Bronco was on the property, and they agreed he was probably there to steal whatever he could find since his grandfather had a key and was now dead so he couldn’t keep an eye on the estate or Bronco.”

“Did they say anyone else was ever on the property?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not even squatters, but they mentioned they were going to put up some kind of security system and new signs. They seemed pissed about the whole thing, more worried about the notoriety of bodies being found there and what it would do to their property values. They seemed to care more about money than they were concerned that those kids were buried there.” She frowned. “My take: coldhearted pricks. But I didn’t put that in the file.”

“Good.” He nodded.

“Then I called Ashley McDonnell, now Ashley Jefferson, Owen Duval’s alibi. She’s married now, got a couple of kids and lives out on Tybee.” Delacroix scrolled down on her phone, then looked at him and shook her head. “Piece of work. She was more concerned with getting her power on after the storm and having her yard cleaned up than she was about the bodies.”

“Old news?”

“I guess. She was actually irritated that I was bothering her. Worried aloud about not being connected to the Internet even though her husband is some kind of computer wiz. She was late posting to her blog.” Her eyebrows elevated. “As I said, ‘piece of work.’ ”

He leaned back in his chair. “Does she still keep in contact with Owen?”

“Nope, acted as if he was ‘just a friend’ in high school. I got the impression that she thought she was doing him a favor hanging out with him.”

“You buy that?”

“Nuh-uh, that woman is too self-centered to have taken on a charity case. People don’t get meaner after high school, you know? They usually grow up, become kinder, not the other way around.”

“She was Owen’s alibi.”

“Still is. Said they just hung out at her folks’ place as the parents were away for the weekend.”

“Doing what?”

“Watching TV.” Her eyes held his. “I call ‘bullshit’ on it, but she wouldn’t budge. I think we might need to talk to her in person, get a bead on her.”

“Everything she said matches what Owen Duval said in his statement.”

“Hmmm.” Her eyebrows knitted. “No one else seemed to think they were a couple. Check out the old statements.”

“I know. Maybe someone will change their tune.”

She hopped off the corner of the desk and walked to the window, staring through the glass. “I just get the feeling that someone’s lying. No . . . that’s not right. I get the feeling that a lot of people are lying and I’m not sure why. What did Margaret Duval say?”

“A lot. She’s pretty broken up of course. Had held on to the belief that her daughters were alive.”

“I guess there’s always hope,” she said, biting her lip thoughtfully.

“Apparently.” Reed explained about his meeting at the parsonage and ended with, “She told me to bring her youngest daughter back alive.”

Delacroix took the visitor’s chair. “Did she? And how did you respond?”

“I didn’t.”

“Because you think it’s impossible?”

“No, because I don’t like to make promises I can’t keep. What did you find out about the locket?” he asked, and noted that she was taller than his previous partner. Delacroix sat up taller and straighter in