Jeffrey sat up. “That wasn’t on his record.”

“I can’t tell you why,” Lev said. “I’ve never seen his records, of course, but he isn’t ashamed about admitting his past transgressions. He’s talked about it in front of the congregation as part of his Testament.”

Jeffrey was still on the edge of his seat. “You said he used his hands?”

“His fists,” Lev elaborated. “He made money from bare-knuckle boxing before he was thrown in jail. He did some serious damage to some people. It’s a part of his life he’s not proud of.”

Jeffrey took a moment to process that. “Cole Connolly’s head is shaved.”

Lev’s change in posture showed that was the last thing he was expecting. “Yes,” he said. “He shaved it last week. He used to keep it in a military cut.”

“Spiky?”

“I guess you could say that. Sometimes the sweat would dry and it stuck up a bit.” He smiled sadly. “Abby used to tease him about it.”

Jeffrey crossed his arms. “How would you describe Cole’s relationship with Abby?”

“Protective. Honorable. He’s good to all the kids on the farm. I would hardly say he singled Abby out for attention.” He added, “He watches Zeke for me all the time. I trust him completely.”

“Do you know a Chip Donner?”

Lev seemed surprised by the name. “He worked on the farm off and on for a few years. Cole told me he stole some money from petty cash. We asked him to leave.”

“You didn’t call the police?”

“We don’t normally involve the police in our affairs. I know that sounds bad-”

“Stop worrying about how things sound, Reverend Ward, and just tell us what happened.”

“Cole asked the Donner boy to leave. The next day he was gone.”

“Do you know where Cole is right now?”

“We all took the morning off because of Abby’s tribute. I imagine he’s in his apartment over the barn, getting ready.” Lev tried again, “Chief Tolliver, believe me, all of this is in his past. Cole is a gentle man. He’s like a brother to me. To all of us.”

“Like you said, Reverend Ward, we need to eliminate family first.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Jeffrey could feel Lena ’s excitement matching his own as they pulled up in front of the equipment barn where Cole Connolly lived. If solving a case was like a roller coaster, they were on the back end of the incline, heading ninety miles an hour towa rd the next loop. Lev Ward happened to carry a photograph of his family in his wallet. Patty O’Ryan had been her usual colorful self when she’d pointed out Cole Connolly as the cocksucking motherfucker who visited Chip at the Pink Kitty.

“The cut on his finger,” Lena said.

“What’s that?” Jeffrey asked, but then understood. Connolly had said the cut on his right index finger had come from working in the fields.

“You’d think that he’d have more than a little cut on the back of his hand, considering what Chip Donner looked like.” She allowed, “Of course, O. J. just had a cut on the back of his finger.”

“So did Jeffrey McDonald.”

“Who’s that?”

“Viciously stabbed his whole family to death- two kids and his pregnant wife.” He told her, “The only wound he didn’t give himself was a cut on the back of his finger.”

“Nice guy,” Lena remarked, then, “You think Cole took Rebecca?”

“I think we’re going to find out,” Jeffrey told her, hoping to God the girl had just run away, that she was somewhere safe and not buried underground, taking her last breaths as she prayed for someone to find her.

He turned the car onto the gravel drive they had taken to the farm last Monday. They had followed Lev Ward’s ancient Ford Festiva as the preacher closely observed the speed limit. Jeffrey had a feeling he would do this even without a cop following him. When Lev pulled into the drive to the barn, he actually used his turn signal.

Jeffrey put the car into park. “Here we go,” he told Lena as they both got out of the car.

Lev pointed to a stairway inside the barn. “He lives up there.”

Jeffrey glanced up, glad there were no windows at the front of the barn to give Connolly a warning. He told Lena, “Stay here,” making his way inside the barn. Lev started to follow but Jeffrey stopped him. “I need you to stay down here.”

Lev seemed ready to protest, but he said, “I think you’re way off base here, Chief Tolliver. Cole loved Abby. He’s not the sort of man to do something like this. I don’t know what kind of animal is capable, but Cole is not-”

Jeffrey told Lena, “Make sure no one interrupts me.” To Lev, he said, “I’d appreciate it if you stayed here until I came down.”

“I have to prepare my remarks,” the preacher said. “We’re putting Abby to rest today. The family is waiting on me.”

Jeffrey knew the family included a pretty sharp lawyer, and he sure as shit didn’t want Paul Ward barging in on his conversation with Connolly. The ex-con was sharp, and Jeffrey was going to have a hard enough time cracking him without Paul shutting things down.

Jeffrey wasn’t in his jurisdiction, he didn’t have an arrest warrant and the only probable cause he had to talk to Connolly came from the word of a stripper who would kill her own mother for a fix. All he could tell Lev was, “Do what you have to do.”

Lena tucked her hands into her pockets as the pastor drove away. “He’s going straight to his brother.”

“I don’t care if you have to hog-tie them,” Jeffrey told her. “Keep them away from that apartment.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quietly, Jeffrey walked up the steep set of stairs to Connolly’s apartment. At the top of the landing, he looked through the window in the door and saw Connolly standing in front of the sink. His back was to Jeffrey, and when he turned around, Jeffrey could see he had been filling a kettle with water. He didn’t seem startled to find someone looking through his window.

“Come on in,” he called, putting the kettle on the stove. There was a series of clicks as the gas caught.

“Mr. Connolly,” Jeffrey began, not sure how he should approach this.

“Cole,” the old man corrected. “I was just making some coffee.” He smiled at Jeffrey, his eyes sparkling the same way they had the day before. Connolly offered, “You want a cup?”

Jeffrey saw a jar of Folgers instant coffee on the countertop and suppressed a feeling of revulsion. His father had sworn by the power of Folgers crystals, claiming it was the best curative for a hangover. As far as Jeffrey was concerned, he’d rather drink out of the toilet, but he answered, “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Connolly took down another cup out of the cabinet. Jeffrey could see there were only two.

“Have a seat,” Connolly said, measuring out two heaping spoonfuls of grainy black coffee into the mugs.

Jeffrey pulled out a chair at the table, taking in Connolly’s apartment, which was a single room with a kitchen on one side and the bedroom on the other. The bed had white sheets and a simple spread, all tucked in with military corners. The man lived a Spartan existence. Except for a cross hanging over the bed and a religious poster taped to one of the whitewashed walls, there was nothing that would reveal anything about the person who called this place his home.

Jeffrey asked, “You live here long?”

“Oh”-Connolly seemed to think about it-“I guess going on fifteen years now. We all moved onto the farm some time back. I used to be in the house, but then the grandkids started growing, wanting their own rooms, their own space. You know how kids are.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You’ve got a nice place here.”

“Built it out myself,” Connolly said proudly. “Rachel offered me a place in her house, but I saw this room up here and knew I’d be able to do something with it.”

“You’re quite a carpenter,” Jeffrey said, taking in the room more carefully. The box they had found Abby in had precision-mitered joints as did the other. The man who had built those boxes was meticulous, taking time to do things right.