“How did she treat Monica and Lesley?”
“Diane and Les. He refused to change his name completely. Took Meynard as his last name, but still goes by Les. Tells everyone his name is Lester. Grandma adored him and Monica—now Diane.”
“Why?”
“Les was born when my mother was seventeen, and Monica when Mom was nineteen. Grandma wasn’t even forty yet. She wanted to take Monica and Lesley and adopt them, raise them with her third husband. My parents said no. Grandma threw that up at them all the time. Told them that if they had given her Monica and Lesley like she’d wanted, then she would have just given them the ranch as a trade. Said that every money problem they had was because they were selfish people who hadn’t deserved the precious babies she’d wanted.”
“And she didn’t want you and your younger sisters?”
“No. I was born while my parents were living with my dad’s great-uncle in Denver. We weren’t as important to our grandmother.”
“Luke, we’ve had reports that your grandmother was abusive physically, as well. Is that true?”
Jac knew exactly what it was like to be constantly criticized by someone in your home as a child. There was nothing more damaging than that. It had taken her a long time to realize her father had been wrong. That there was nothing wrong with her, or her little sister, Natalie.
She just hoped Luke Meynard and his siblings had learned that lesson, too.
“Yes. A thousand times yes. Mostly me.” He lowered his voice, his eyes going to the window on the door as some of his colleagues walked by.
Jac straightened and sent him a businesslike smile in case his coworkers were spying. “Anything you tell us right now, Luke, we’re keeping it to ourselves while we find out what happened. We know whatever happened to your grandmother happened between two thirty and five thirty that day. Where were you at two thirty?”
He leaned back. Pulled in a deep breath. “In the living room. I wanted to watch television. My favorite show always came on at two thirty, and since I had school most days, I rarely got to watch it. But Honey wanted the TV. We were arguing. Grandma hit me hard on the head. Right here.” He pointed to a half-inch scar on his temple. “With a stainless steel spatula. The handle cut my eye. It hurt, and I was bleeding. I’m…not good with blood. It made me nauseated, and I puked in the floor. She hit me again.”
Jac pulled in a breath at the memories in the man’s eyes. They echoed her own. She’d never forget the pain she’d felt at her own father’s hands. “What happened next?”
“I’d had enough. I felt like I was dying from being sick. She had given all the fever medicine to the girls. Told me I was a baby for wanting medicine. That I wasn’t going to be much of a man. I remember that clearly. It was the last conversation I ever had with my grandmother.”
“What happened next?” Clint asked matter-of-factly. “She can’t hurt you now, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. Some people have no business being around kids. I grew up with one just like that myself, who used his fists and his words to destroy. Keep telling us what happened so we can figure this out.”
“She started to hit me again and again. With the spatula. I just couldn’t take it anymore.” He leaned his head against his hands. When he looked up, his green eyes were damp. “I swung out and punched her. In the head. But I was a lot smaller than she was. She punched me back. Then I pushed her, as hard as I could. It just happened. She fell and hit her head. I ran. I just ran. I stayed out in the barn that day, until my mom came home and found me. Then Mom saw the blood, and Monica saw…and Mom and Grandma were screaming at one another. I went inside and hid. I hid under Lesley’s bed. Because Grandma always loved him best and wouldn’t look for me there because it was his space and not mine. I just hid. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened after that. I stayed there until I heard Lesley’s car pull up. I knew…I knew she wouldn’t hit me again if he was there. Lesley always made her stop hitting me. Every time. Then, my dad was home, and we were moving. I was happy. Happy I never had to see her again. I didn’t know she was dead. I didn’t. I didn’t.”
Jac didn’t know what to say, so she just sat next to him and let him talk.
40
Her ribs twinged, but she was going to power through it. Miranda knew they were close to finding what they wanted. Jac had more information, including current names, for all of Luther and Pauline’s children neatly printed on the whiteboard. Jac was probably just a hair shy of a clinical obsessive-compulsive disorder diagnosis, but it didn’t interfere with her job performance, so it was just accepted as one of her quirks. There were a lot of quirky people in PAVAD.
One reason Miranda thought it was such a perfect fit for her. Miranda had quirks of her own. “Let’s figure out what we’ve got. Lesley alibied out. Jon David Calligner reaffirms that Lesley was at the junkyard until five thirty, when Jon David sent him home because Lesley looked a little off his feed, as Jon David put it. We can probably safely assume he was coming down with the same virus as the rest of the Beise kids.”
“But we’re sure Helen wasn’t still alive
