“What kind?”
“Helen.” She watched his eyes for any reaction.
Luther just shook his head. “Haven’t seen her since we left. Even before. I hadn’t seen her in a few days. I had taken a job hauling cattle for Old Ben Tyler a week before. When I came home, Pauline had everything packed and was in a fit. Said her mom finally kicked us out, and we had to be gone that night. Said her mom had taken all the savings we had as back pay on the rent. But we were never behind. I just figured the old witch had finally cracked and stolen what we had. Someone had been stealing from our cash savings for years. Always figured it was her.”
“So you just left the property behind? Didn’t you keep your money in the bank?”
“Didn’t have much choice on the property. That’s why we changed our names. So we could avoid her mama filing against us in small claims. Pauline said her mother threatened to sue us for the damage the kids did to the house. It was my house; not hers. She went to stay with a third cousin, and we moved out that same night. With three puking kids, Monica all mad and crying, and Lesley practically in shock. Hated what that did to my kids.”
That was not the explanation Miranda had been anticipating. But he’d just handed them a seriously strong motive for him killing Helen. Him—or Pauline. “Luther, Helen Caudrell didn’t move to a third cousin. Our resources tell us she didn’t have a third cousin.”
“No one liked that old witch. Evil, she was. Pure, pure evil. I hated leaving my kids with her when I drove loads, but it was the only choice we had, considering we needed the money I could bring in using my Dad’s old semi. With the baby coming soon, I was trying to save some money, I remember. So we could put Marcie and the baby in daycare instead of leaving them with Pauline’s mother.”
“Why? What would she do?”
“She believed in slapping the kids around. Spare the rod. I never did much agree with that.” He narrowed a glance at her. “I never once laid a hand on any of my kids. Not once. Even when they no doubt deserved it for sassing. But Pauline and Helen—they’d hit first, lecture later. It was one of the main reasons we split. Pauline wouldn’t leave Junior alone. Always on him for something after the move. Like she blamed him for it or something. I took him, Jenny, Honey, Marcie, and the baby, Megan, and left. Pauline had just gotten bad with all the kids. I don’t think she could handle not having her mom around to tell her what to do with the kids. And she made it clear she didn’t want the baby. They were too much work for her.” He shook his head like he couldn’t imagine it.
“Helen’s body was found, Luther. Buried in the center of your back barn, wrapped up in a pink and orange quilt she’d been sewing. We believe she died before you made it back that day. We need you to help us figure out what happened to Helen.”
He let out a slew of curses, then jerked toward the nearby juniper bushes, where he promptly lost the contents of his stomach. When he was finished, he looked back at Miranda.
“Well, who killed her, then?”
22
Clint admired how well the FBI worked together. There didn’t seem to be too much friction between any of them—at least, not any that interfered with their effectiveness as a team.
Well, other than that between Miranda’s friend Jac and the other Agent Jones. Now, there was something going on between them. He had no doubt about that.
Miranda was having a good time irritating Knight. Clint smiled, remembering the girl she used to be. She’d drive him crazy, too. Anything to get a rise out of him. She had always been…playful. He’d needed that joy back then.
He’d missed that. She was probably the best friend he’d ever had. She’d been the first person he’d called when his wife had lost the battle with the cancer they’d discovered too late in her pregnancy to stop it from taking her. Miranda had flown home to be with him those first few days. That’s all he truly remembered while trying to bury his wife and just get through with the baby.
Miranda had guided him through making the arrangements. Miranda had sat up with his daughter for hours when he’d finally given in to the need for sleep.
He would never be able to repay her for what she’d done for him.
He even liked Knight, though the man seemed like a real hard-ass.
Clint had learned when working for the WSP that your strength rested in your team. He wasn’t particularly close to anyone at the DCI. He didn’t plan to be. He had a few colleagues he preferred to work with, but those were few and far between. Same as it had been at the WSP.
Not trusting the men at your back was another lesson he’d learned at the WSP. Cronyism had been the name of the game at the post he’d been assigned to. No doubt it was still how things were done.
Otherwise, that fool Hollace would have been long gone by now.
At least, he’d given them the first step.
Clint had looked for Luther Beise from the moment Helen Caudrell’s body had been found. There had been walls thrown up in front of him almost from the very beginning. He couldn’t explain it yet. He would with time.
He almost suspected someone
