The Third Grave (Savannah #4) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,74
nothin’ to say anyway.”
“I’m calling about the bodies that were found at the Beaumont estate.”
“The Duval girls, yeah, I know. I put two and two together. Look, I don’t know nothin’ about that.”
“What about your son?”
“Owen. He ain’t my son. Gave him up way back when. Figured he’d be better off with Margaret.” He snorted. “I was back on the booze then, y’know, had my share of troubles and so I guess I can’t blame her for lookin’ for somethin’ better, but still it was a pisser, y’know.”
“What was?”
“You know. To find out your wife is bangin’ someone else? Sheeit. Doesn’t do much for a man’s ego, if y’know what I mean.”
“She was involved with another man?”
“Well, hell yeah. Harvey. She and he were gettin’ it on while I was doin’ a little time and when I get out, she tells me she’s takin’ my boy and to leave her and her new family alone. She offered me some money and I’m not ashamed to say I took it, and Harvey adopted Owen and she had her perfect little family.” The sarcasm in his voice was palpable. “Guess it didn’t turn out all that perfect after all.”
“Where were you the day the girls went missing?”
He laughed. “That’s a good one. Never met ’em. That was twenty years ago or so? How the hell would I know?”
“Seems like something you would remember.”
“Oh, for the love of Christ. If I remember correctly a friend of mine—Bill Seymore—and I were shootin’ dice, but he’s dead now. Can’t confirm. So just leave me the hell alone. I had nothin’, not one damn thing to do with those girls. Hell, I wouldn’t have recognized ’em if I ran over ’em. As I just told ya, I never met ’em. When Margaret and I split, that was it. Never saw her again and as for Owen, just a time or two. It just wasn’t worth it. I borrowed money from him a couple of times, but that was it. We didn’t have what you’d call a normal father/son relationship, if you know what I mean.”
“He loaned you money.”
Reggie snorted. “Had to pry it out of him. I figured he owed me. He did owe me. Look, man, now you know, so leave me the hell alone.”
He ended the call, and Reed went back to the records but saw no mention of Reggie Scott in the reports other than a mention that he was the biological father of Owen Duval.
Nothing else.
Somehow Reggie had fallen through the cracks.
Reed made a couple of quick notes and headed out to grab some lunch. He’d just stepped outside and was crossing the parking lot when the phone rang again. “Detective Reed?” a sharp female voice inquired.
“Yeah.” Using his remote, he unlocked the driver’s door.
“This is Deputy Tina Rounds.” He remembered her. Tall, by-the-book, with mocha-colored skin, near-black eyes and a no-nonsense attitude. “Hey, I got a call from emergency. A fisherman found a body. He came up here to Black Bear Lake and found the remains. Freaked, called 911, and I caught the call. I’m here now and all I can tell you is that it’s definitely human cuz the skull is still there, though other body parts are missing, and it’s small. A kid.”
“Rose Duval,” he whispered under his breath, his heart sinking. Damn. He’d hoped she had somehow survived.
“Don’t know yet.”
Jesus. He started jogging to his vehicle. “I’m on the way. Text me the address.”
She did and he typed it into his GPS, then drove out of the lot, the Jeep’s interior already warm, the windshield dusty. He hit the wipers and wash, then hit speed dial on his phone.
Delacroix picked up before the phone rang twice. “Yeah.”
“Looks like we may have found Rose Duval.”
A pause. “Really?” Disbelief.
He filled her in.
“Holy shit,” she whispered. “That’s about what . . . less than a mile upriver from the Beaumont place?”
“Yeah.” He checked the map as he drove away from the heart of the city, centuries-old buildings giving way to strip malls. “Closer to the old Marianne Inn.”
“Don’t know the place.”
He pushed the speed limit, cutting around an old diesel truck pulling a dirty, time-worn boat filled with crab pots and fishing nets.
“The Marianne’s been closed for years but used to be kind of a resort or fishing lodge.”
“You really think it’s Rose Duval?” Again, he heard the skepticism in her voice.
“No idea,” he admitted. “Only one way to find out.”