Not for him. Period.
Finally, Luke straightened in his chair and stared at Miranda. “It was because of me, wasn’t it?”
“In part, the argument you had with your grandmother was probably a trigger. Your mother hasn’t said why. Not fully,” Miranda started. “We believe it was an accident. An argument that escalated. Your mother most likely thought Helen had died from the blow. She panicked and asked Jim—who she was having an affair with—to bury Helen in the barn. But Helen was unconscious, not dead. She suffocated.”
“She wasn’t dead?” a small voice asked from the other end of the table. One that had Knight’s attention jerking toward the other end of the table.
Kayla. Young, with dark brown eyes, pale skin, and a fragile air about her. She was almost ethereal in appearance. Unlike her older sister, who had the everybody’s-kid-sister vibe going on.
It was the first thing she’d said that had been loud enough for Knight to hear. He looked at her quickly. She was barely more than a kid. Twenty-two, he believed. Young and overwhelmed and had just learned her mother was a murderer.
He’d always hated this part of investigations. The collateral damage.
“No. She was still breathing when she was buried,” Knight said. “She died a few minutes later.”
“I thought she was dead.” The girl began to cry. “Mom told me she was dead and to get back inside. That she was going to bury Grandma because that’s what we did when people died. Like the cat.”
Everyone stared at her for a long moment. Luther moved first, handing his granddaughter back to his son, then sliding his arms around Kayla. “You talk to us, Kayla Jean. Tell us what you know. I’ll make it better. I promise.”
The loving way he touched his daughter seared its way into Knight’s brain. From all accounts, Luther Beise had been a poor father when he’d lived in Masterson County. But evidence in front of him said that had changed since Helen’s death. For the better.
“Kayla,” Miranda said softly. “Can you tell us about that day?”
“I…I…”
“You just take your time,” Knight said, a rush of compassion shooting through him. How young she was struck him. She’d been keeping this secret for fourteen years. This nightmare.
“I went into the barn, looking for mom. Marnie was awake and wanted Mom,” Kayla began in a whisper. “Mom was so angry when she saw me.”
“Who was in there with you?” Miranda asked. “Why did you go outside?”
“I woke up, and my stomach was hurting. I wanted my mom, not my sister. Marnie wanted Mom, too. So I went looking for her.”
“Which sister?” Knight asked, for the recording that Jac Jones was making.
“Diane. She…was there. I didn’t want her. She was angry about something. Like always.” Kayla was still crying. Her father had his arm around her. Her sister had shifted closer. Only her brothers hadn’t moved. “Diane always hated us younger girls.”
All attention was on the girl. She would have been eight years old that day. How much could an eight-year-old really remember?
Olivia handed her sister a tissue from the box on the center of the table. “Diane has…she can be cruel when she’s angry about something. We tried to stay away from her as much as possible. Still do, honestly. She was in a really bad mood when she came home that day. I’d forgotten that.”
“She was always angry back then. At least with us. She never wanted to be with us. I believe she spent most of her time with you and your family,” Luke added. “We were more than ok with that. She was grandmother’s favorite, most of the time, and is the most like her.”
“Does anyone know where she is today?” Clint asked. Knight was wondering the same himself.
“No. Diane…Diane doesn’t have much interaction with us. She and Mom were really close, though. Especially since we moved. Before that, they argued quite a bit,” Luke said. “After we moved, they were almost best friends. Super-dependent on one another for everything. Without Grandma around, things changed drastically. After the divorce, we all preferred to stay with Dad. Mom’s new boyfriend at the time had three kids of his own half the time—and he didn’t want us around. Mom had no problem with that. But she practically begged Diane to stay.”
Lesley still hadn’t said much at all. Knight turned to him. “You know where she is? We know you stayed with your mother after your parents divorced. Have you kept in touch with your sister?”
He nodded. “I have, but I don’t know where she is today. All I know is I got a call from her a few days ago—the day before I was arrested—telling me she was moving for a while and didn’t know where she was going to end up. Asked to borrow a thousand dollars. I didn’t have that kind of money, so she hung up on me after cussing me out. Called back a few hours later, and I sent her $200 through our mother. That’s all I know.”
“You didn’t think that was unusual?” Miranda asked.
He shook his head. “No. She did that every six months or so. Diane can be restless, I guess. Never stays in one spot too long.”
“Drags Dannie along with her,” Luther said, temper in his tone. “I don’t agree with it, but she stopped listening to me a long time ago, that girl.”
“Dannie?” Miranda asked. “Her daughter?”
“Yes. Danielle. She’s seven, now,” Olivia said sadly. “She…Diane has some problems with motherhood. We’ve all volunteered to help whenever we could, but Diane isn’t interested. Refuses to admit she’s not providing the best environment for Dannie.”
Knight wasn’t exactly forming a strong impression of Monica Diane Beise. “Danielle’s father?”
“Dead. Or so Diane says,” Luther said. “You’ll have to ask Paulie if you want any more on that girl of ours. She’ll be the only one who knows.”
“Let’s get back to what happened to Helen,” Miranda said. “Kayla, do you remember what time it was?”
“It was after Mom got home and before Lesley did. That’s
