The Third Grave (Savannah #4) - Lisa Jackson Page 0,90

of shade trees stretched across the walkways, the afternoon sun warm as it slowly lowered in the west.

He stepped through a glass door into a large reception area separated from a dining space by a floor-to-ceiling rock fireplace with an oversize picture of Jesus above the mantel.

It was quiet inside, almost hushed, a few carts rattling, some muted voices in the hallways and a feeling of forced cheer in the colorful wall art that was at odds with the institutional green walls and the tan indoor/outdoor carpet of the corridor and common spaces.

His badge gained him access, and he was told by a pert receptionist that Mrs. Adams “was resting” and that her daughter was with her in room 114.

Reed circumvented an elderly man pushing a walker and ignored the scent of disinfectant over the underlying odor of urine. He tapped softly on the door to room 114 and stepped inside as a woman called, “Come in.” She was seated in a floral recliner by the window, the only chair in the studio apartment. A TV was muted to some decorating show and upon the twin bed was an emaciated woman with her eyes closed.

“I’m Julia,” the sixtyish woman said, and quickly folded the newspaper she’d been reading. She was short and heavyset with narrow reading glasses set upon a small nose, and thick gray hair that was layered around a square face with a quizzical expression. “Ona’s daughter.”

“Detective Pierce Reed.” He showed his ID and explained why he was at Peaceful Glen.

“Well, I don’t know what I can tell you and, Mom . . .” She lifted a hand, gesturing toward the bed, where a blue comforter was tucked under the older woman’s narrow chin. She was thin and frail looking, her cheekbones prominent, her eye sockets deep.

“She’s in and out. Sometimes clear as a bell, especially about things in the past, but she couldn’t tell you the day of the week, and sometimes I’m not sure she even remembers me, then the strangest thing, she’ll pop up with something that’s spot-on.”

She sighed and went on. “I’ve been reading about the Duval girls in the papers and watching on television. It’s awful. And it just goes on and on. Those poor parents, what they’ve been through.”

The woman on the bed snorted, her eyes, beneath her papery eyelids, fluttering.

“Mom?” Julia asked, getting up and moving to the bed. She touched her mother on a bony, flannel-draped shoulder. “Mom. There’s a policeman here. He wants to talk to you about Harvey and Margaret Duval and their daughters.”

Nothing.

“Mom.” She gave Ona’s shoulder a gentle shake. “Mom? Can you wake up now? Talk to Detective . . .”

“Reed,” he supplied.

“Detective Reed would like to talk to you. About the Duvals.” Again there was no response.

Julia straightened and let out her breath. “See what I mean?” “Maybe you can help me,” he suggested as she perched on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know how. I barely knew those girls. I was out of the house before they were born. So I only saw them when I visited Mom and Dad.”

“What about the brother? Owen?”

“No, I mean, I recognized him by sight, but that was about it.” She began plucking at the pilling on the comforter. “He was just a neighbor kid, and I don’t think Mom and Dad really knew him all that well. It’s not like the families hung out or anything. Mom and Dad were already retired, I think, and the Duvals were raising four kids and balancing jobs, so . . . not a lot in common.”

“And you?”

“We were living in Charlotte at the time. I was working and have a husband and kids of my own. Three of them. All in elementary school, so I barely had time to breathe, couldn’t come down here all that often what with everyone’s schedule.” She offered a tentative smile. “So I really can’t tell you anything and if you’re hoping to get some information from Mom . . . well . . .” Julia sighed, her head wagging sadly. “As I said, sometimes clear as a bell, other times, well . . .”

Reed had told himself the trip to Peaceful Glen was probably a waste of time, but he still felt a sliver of disappointment.

“What do you know about Harvey and Margaret?” he asked.

“Not much. He was in insurance, an agent or a broker or something, and she was a nurse. I do know that. She worked at the hospital when I