The Third Grave (Savannah #4) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,78
overflowed.
A little girl appeared in the archway. “What happened?” she asked, then smiled. “I get it. Zeke made a mess,” she said, obviously delighted, her eyes bright at the prospect of Zeke getting into trouble.
“It was an accident,” Ashley clipped out.
“Ack-ident,” the boy repeated, and gave his sister a churlish stare. She narrowed her eyes in a perfect imitation of her mother. “He has a lot of those.”
Ashley set the boy on the floor and tossed the wet paper towels in a garbage can under the sink. “Kelsey, take your brother to the playroom for a minute, would you?”
“Why?” Kelsey asked.
“Just do it,” Ashley ordered, and though Kelsey obviously wanted to argue, she threw her mother a just-remember-I’m-the-victim-here look instead before flouncing out.
“Always a battle,” Ashley said, and wiped the floor again, this time with a wet paper towel. “You have kids?”
Nikki shook her head despite the stab of pain in her heart. “Not yet.”
“Well, I suggest you think twice about it.” She let out a long breath. “It’s a lot of work and it just doesn’t get any easier.” Then, as if hearing herself, added quickly, “But, of course I wouldn’t change anything. I love them both beyond words.”
“Of course.”
“So, now I know you’re here about the Duval girls and what you think I know about their disappearance.”
“It’s more than that, it’s murder now.”
“I know. I heard that.” She glanced at the doorway where the kids had disappeared and lowered her voice. “It’s all disturbing. Really disturbing. And I don’t want to come off as a heartless bitch or anything, but I don’t know anything more than I’ve already said. I already talked to the police about it. On the phone and in person. I don’t have anything else to add. I just wish . . . I just wish this disaster would end!”
“I’m not with the police.”
“I know, I know. But I can’t tell you anything else. I don’t know anything else.” And then something clicked in her brain, her expression changed and her eyes thinned. “Wait a sec. I know you.” She pointed at Nikki. “You’re that reporter who nearly drowned the other day out there where they found the bodies. You write those crime books. Is that what this is all about? A book?” Her lips twisted downward in contempt.
“I’m just trying to find out what happened.”
“For a book?”
“For an article.” What did it matter?
“And you’re married to that cop who was here.” Her expression turned dark. “What is this?”
“You said you were with Owen Duval that night.”
“Yes! God, how many times do I have to say it?” She rolled her eyes as her daughter appeared in the doorway.
“I know.” In a louder voice, Ashley reprimanded, “Zeke, you be nice!” Then back to her daughter, “I said I’ll be there in a second!” before adding in a lower voice, “Geez! I could use a drink.” She glanced up at Nikki. “A double margarita, ASAP!”
The girl whined, cast Nikki a dark look, then stomped back into the hallway.
“This isn’t a good time,” Ashley admitted, having lost some of her irritation. “But, really, there isn’t a good time. What you’re talking about happened a long, long time ago. I’m sorry, really sorry that those girls were found . . . you know,” she whispered sadly, “dead. How awful! But there’s nothing, not one single thing I can do about it. I’ve told the police what I know and I’ve suffered through Margaret Duval’s . . . persecution.”
“Persecution?”
“I know what she’s said about me and it really doesn’t make any sense as I gave her son his alibi, right? Why should she be mad at me? As if I could have stopped what happened.” She opened up a little. “I wish I could have, but . . . sometimes things happen. It’s all been a nightmare. A horrible, unending nightmare.” She gazed out the bank of windows to the deck with its bright umbrella over a shaded table and a chaise lounge angled toward the ocean, visible in the distance, darkening as the sun lowered behind the house. A cigarette had been left burning in the ashtray on a small glass-topped table, a pair of strappy gold sandals tucked beneath the chaise. Ashley had been occupying that spot, near the pool, when Nikki had arrived. Now, she seemed lost in thought, miles or more probably years away.