“Cole told me he’d done this before,” Jeffrey said, looking at each of the sisters in turn. “Did he punish the other kids this way when they were growing up?” He looked at Esther. “Did he ever punish Rebecca this way?”

Esther seemed to be having trouble breathing. “Why on earth would he-”

Paul cut her off. “Chief Tolliver, I think we need to be alone right now.”

“I’ve got some more questions,” Jeffrey said.

Paul replied, “I’m sure you do, but we’re-”

“Actually,” Jeffrey interrupted, “one of them is for you.”

Paul blinked. “Me?”

“Did Abby come see you a few days before she went missing?”

“Well…” He thought about it. “Yes, I think so.”

Rachel said, “She took those papers to you, Paul. The ones for the tractor.”

“Right,” Paul remembered. “I left them here in my briefcase.” He explained, “There were some legal documents that had to be signed and sent off by close of business.”

“She couldn’t fax them?”

“They had to be the originals,” he explained. “It was a quick trip, down and back up. Abby did that a lot.”

“Not a lot,” Esther contradicted. “Maybe once or twice a month.”

“Semantics,” Lev said. “She would run down papers for Paul so he didn’t have to take four hours out of his day on the road.”

“She took the bus,” Jeffrey said. “Why didn’t she drive herself?”

“Abby didn’t like driving on the interstate,” Lev answered. “Is there a problem? Do you think she met someone on the bus?”

Jeffrey asked Paul, “Were you in Savannah the week she disappeared?”

“Yes,” the lawyer replied. “I told you that before. I spend every other week there. It’s just me handling all the legal business for the farm. It’s very time-consuming.” He took a small notebook out of his pocket and scribbled something down. “This is my Savannah office number,” he said, tearing off the sheet of paper. “You can call my secretary there- Barbara. She can verify where I was.”

“What about at night?”

“Are you asking me for an alibi?” he demanded, incredulous.

Lev said, “Paul-”

“Listen here,” Paul said, getting into Jeffrey’s face. “You’ve interrupted my niece’s funeral. I understand you have to do your job, but this is not the time.”

Jeffrey stood his ground. “Take your finger out of my face.”

“I’ve had just about enough-”

“Take your finger out of my face,” Jeffrey repeated, and, after a moment, the man had the good sense to drop his hand. Jeffrey looked at the sisters, then at Thomas, sitting at the end of the table. “Someone murdered Abby,” he told them, feeling a barely controlled sense of rage burning deep inside of him. “She was buried in that box by Cole Connolly. She stayed in there for several days and nights until someone-someone who knew she was buried out there- came along and poured cyanide into her throat.”

Esther put her hand to her mouth, tears springing into her eyes.

“I’ve just watched a man die that death,” he told them. “I watched him writhe on the floor, gasping for air, knowing full well that he was going to die, probably begging God to go ahead and take him just to release him from the pain.”

Esther dropped her head, crying in earnest. The rest of the family seemed shocked, and as Jeffrey glanced around the room, no one but Lev would look him in the eye. The preacher seemed about to speak, but Paul put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, stopping him.

“Rebecca’s still missing,” Jeffrey reminded them.

“Do you think…” Esther began. Her question trailed off as the implications hit her full force.

Jeffrey watched Lev, trying to read his blank stare. Paul’s jaw had tightened, but Jeffrey didn’t know if this was from anger or concern.

It was Rachel who finally asked the question, her voice quavering at the thought of her niece in danger. “Do you think Rebecca’s been taken?”

“I think somebody in this room knows exactly what’s been going on- is probably a part of it.” Jeffrey tossed a handful of business cards down on the table. “These have all my numbers,” he told them. “Call me when you’re ready to find out the truth.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sara lay in bed on her side, looking out the window. She could hear Jeffrey in the kitchen, knocking pans around. Around five this morning, he had scared the shit out of her, jumping around in the dark as he put on his running shorts, looking like an ax murderer in t he shadows cast by the moon. An hour later, he had wakened her again, cursing like a sailor when he accidentally stepped on Bob. Displaced from the bed by Jeffrey, the greyhound had taken to sleeping in the bathtub and was just as indignant as Jeffrey to find them both simultaneously in the tub.

Still, she was somewhat comforted by Jeffrey’s presence in the house. She liked rolling over in the middle of the night and feeling the warmth of his body. She liked the sound of his voice and the smell of the oatmeal lotion he used on his hands when he thought she wasn’t looking. She especially liked that he cooked breakfast for her.

“Get your ass out of bed and come scramble the eggs,” Jeffrey yelled from the kitchen.

Sara muttered something she would be ashamed for her mother to hear as she dragged herself out from under the covers. The house was freezing cold even though the sun was beating down on the lake, waves sending coppery glints of light through the back windows. She grabbed Jeffrey’s robe and wrapped it around herself before padding down the hallway.

Jeffrey stood at the stove, frying bacon. He was wearing sweatpants and a black T-shirt, which set off his bruised eye nicely in the morning sun.

He said, “I figured you were awake.”

“Third time’s a charm,” she told him, petting Billy as he leaned up against her. Bob was splayed on the couch with his feet in the air. She could see Bubba, her erstwhile cat, stalking something in the backyard.

Jeffrey had already gotten out the eggs and set the carton beside a bowl for her. Sara cracked them open, trying not to drip the whites all over the counter. Jeffrey saw the mess she was making and took over, saying, “Sit down.”

Sara sank into the stool at the kitchen island, watching him clean up her mess.

She asked the obvious. “You couldn’t sleep?”

“No,” he told her, tossing the rag into the sink.

He was worried about the case, but she also knew that he was almost as troubled about Lena. Their entire relationship, Jeffrey had been in some state of concern for Lena Adams. In the beginning it was because she was too hotheaded on the street, too aggressive with her arrests. From there, Jeffrey had been worried about her competitiveness, her yearning to be the best on the squad no matter what shortcuts she felt she had to take. He had trained her carefully as a detective, partnering her with Frank but taking her under his wing, grooming her for something-something Sara thought the other woman would never get. Lena was too single-minded to lead, too selfish to follow. Twelve years ago, Sara could have predicted he would still be worrying over Lena today. That she was mixed up with that Nazi skinhead Ethan Green was really the only thing that had ever surprised her about the other woman.

Sara asked, “Are you going to try to talk to Lena?”

Jeffrey didn’t answer her question. “She’s too smart for this.”

“I don’t think abuse has anything to do with intelligence or lack thereof,” Sara said.

“That’s the reason I don’t think Cole went after Rebecca,” Jeffrey told her. “She’s too willful. He wouldn’t pick someone who would fight back too much.”

“Is Brad still looking over in Catoogah?”

“Yeah,” he said, not sounding hopeful that the search would yield anything. He skipped on to Cole Connolly as if he had been having a different conversation in his head. “Rebecca would’ve told her mother what was going on and Esther… Esther would have ripped out Cole’s throat.” Using his good hand, he broke the eggs one by one into the bowl. “Cole wouldn’t have risked it.”