Jeffrey took out his notepad, telling him, “Larry Fowler died from alcohol poisoning on July twenty-eighth of last year. He was removed from the farm by the Catoogah County coroner at nine fifty P.M.”

Lev stared another second, not quite believing. “And this one?” he asked, lifting another page. “Mike Morrow. He drove the tractor last season. He had a daughter in Wisconsin. Cole said he went to live with her.”

“Drug overdose. August thirteenth, twelve forty P.M.”

Lev asked, “Why would he tell us they ran off when they died?”

“I guess it’d be a little hard to explain why so many people have died on your farm in the last two years.”

He looked at the policies again, scanning the pages. “You think… you think they…”

“Your brother paid for nine bodies to be cremated.”

Lev’s face was already pasty, but his face turned completely white as he absorbed the implication behind Jeffrey’s words. “These signatures,” he began, studying the documents again. “That’s not mine,” he said, stabbing his finger at one of the pages. “This,” he said, “that’s not Mary’s signature; she’s left-handed. That’s certainly not Rachel’s. Why would she have an insurance policy on a man she never even knew?”

“You tell me.”

“This is wrong,” he said, wadding up the pages in his fist. “Who would do this?”

Jeffrey repeated, “You tell me.”

A vein was throbbing in Lev’s temple. His teeth were clenched as he thumbed back through the papers. “Did he have a policy on my wife?”

Jeffrey answered honestly. “I don’t know.”

“Where did you get her name?”

“All of the policies are registered to a house on Sandon Square. The owner is listed as Stephanie Linder.”

“He… used…” Lev was so livid he was having trouble speaking. “He used my… my wife’s name… for this?”

In his line of work, Jeffrey had seen plenty of grown men reduced to tears, but usually they were crying because they had lost a loved one or- more often than not- because they realized they were going to jail and felt sorry for themselves. Lev Ward’s tears were from sheer rage.

“Hold on,” Jeffrey said as Lev pushed past him. “Where are you going?”

Lev ran up the hall to Paul’s office. “Where is he?” Lev demanded.

Jeffrey heard the secretary say, “I don’t-”

Lev was already running toward the front doors, Jeffrey close behind him. The preacher didn’t look particularly fit, but he had a long stride. By the time Jeffrey made it to the parking lot, Lev was already at his car. Instead of getting in, the man stood there, frozen.

Jeffrey trotted over to him. “Lev?”

“Where is he?” he snarled. “Give me ten minutes with him. Just ten minutes.”

Jeffrey wouldn’t have thought the mild-mannered preacher had it in him. “Lev, you need to go back inside.”

“How could he do this to us?” he asked. “How could he…” Lev seemed to be working out all the implications. He turned to Jeffrey. “He killed my niece? He killed Abby? And Cole, too?”

“I think so,” Jeffrey said. “He had access to the cyanide. He knew how to use it.”

“My God,” he said, not just an expression but a genuine entreaty. “Why?” he pleaded. “Why would he do this? What did Abby ever do to anyone?”

Jeffrey didn’t try to answer his questions. “We need to find your brother, Lev. Where is he?”

Lev was too angry to speak. He shook his head tightly from side to side.

“We need to find him,” Jeffrey repeated, just as his phone chirped from his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID, seeing it was Lena. He stepped back to answer the phone, snapping it open, saying, “What is it?”

Lena was whispering, but he heard her loud and clear. “He’s here,” she said. “Paul’s car just pulled into the driveway.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lena ’s heart thumped in her throat, a constant pulse that made it hard to speak.

“Don’t do anything until I get there,” Jeffrey ordered. “Hide Rebecca. Don’t let him see her.”

“What if-”

“No fucking what-ifs, Detective. Do as I say.”

Lena glanced at Rebecca, saw the terror in the girl’s eyes. She could end this right no w- throw Paul to the floor, take the bastard into custody. Then what? They’d never get a confession out of the lawyer. He’d be laughing all the way to the grand jury, where they’d dismiss the case for lack of evidence.

Jeffrey said, “Am I being clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep Rebecca safe,” he ordered. “She’s our only witness. That’s your job right now, Lena. Don’t fuck this up.” The phone clicked loudly as he disconnected.

Terri was at the front window, calling out Paul’s movements. “He’s in the garage,” she whispered. “He’s in the garage.”

Lena grabbed Rebecca by the arm, pulling her into the foyer. “Go upstairs,” she ordered, but the frightened girl wouldn’t budge.

Terri said, “He’s going around the back. Oh, God, hurry!” She ran down the hall so that she could follow his progress.

“Rebecca,” Lena said, willing the girl to move. “We need to go upstairs.”

“What if he…” Rebecca began. “I can’t…”

“He’s in the shed,” Terri called. “Becca, please! Go!”

“He’ll be so mad,” Rebecca whimpered. “Oh, Lord, please…”

Terri’s voice trilled. “He’s coming toward the house!”

“Rebecca,” Lena tried again.

Terri ran back into the hall, pushing Rebecca as Lena tugged the girl toward the stairs.

“Mommy!” Tim grabbed onto his mother, wrapping his arms around her leg.

Terri’s voice was stern when she told her son, “Go upstairs now.” She spanked Tim on the bottom when he didn’t move quickly enough.

The back door opened and they all froze as Paul called, “Terri?”

Tim was at the top of the stairs, but Rebecca stood frozen in fear, breathing like a wounded animal.

“Terri?” Paul repeated. “Where the hell are you?” Slowly, his footsteps traveled through the kitchen. “Christ, this place is a mess.”

Using all her strength, Lena picked up Rebecca, half carrying, half dragging the girl up the stairs. By the time she reached the top, she was out of breath, her insides feeling like they had been ripped in two.

“I’m here!” Terri called to her uncle, her shoes making clicking noises across the tile foyer as she walked back to the kitchen. Lena heard muffled voices as she pushed Rebecca and Tim into the closest room. Too late she realized they were in the nursery.

In the crib, the baby gurgled. Lena waited for him to wake up and cry. What seemed like an hour passed before the child turned his head away and settled back to sleep.

“Oh, Lord,” Rebecca whispered, praying.

Lena put her hand over the girl’s mouth, carefully walking her toward the closet with Tim in tow. For the first time, Rebecca seemed to understand, and she slowly opened the door, her eyes squeezed shut as she waited for a noise that would alert Paul to their presence. Nothing came, and she slid to the floor, grabbing Tim in her arms and hiding behind a stack of winter blankets.

Softly, Lena clicked the door closed, holding her breath, waiting for Paul to come rushing in. She could barely hear him speaking over the pounding of her own heart, but suddenly his heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs.

“This place is a pigsty,” Paul said, and she could hear him knocking things over as he went through the house. Lena knew the house was spotless, just like she knew Paul was being an asshole. “Jesus Christ, Terri, you back on coke again? Look at this mess. How can you raise your children here?”

Terri mumbled a reply, and Paul screamed, “Don’t back-talk me!” He was in the tiled foyer now, his voice booming up the stairs like a roll of thunder. Carefully, Lena tiptoed to the wall opposite the nursery, flattening herself against it, listening to Paul yell at Terri. Lena waited another beat, then slid to her left, edging toward the stair landing so she could peer downstairs and see what was going on. Jeffrey had told her to wait, to hide Rebecca until he got there. She should stay back in the room, keep the kids quiet, make sure they were safe.