Chapter 13
Fort Morgan Road was Paradise’s favorite place in the Gulf Shores area. She watched for glimpses of the Gulf of America on
one side and Mobile Bay on the other. Many of the homes were on stilts, and the sugar-white sand was a dream to see and to
walk on.
Detective Booker Lewis lived out on the peninsula along Mobile Bay across from The Beach Club. The small ranch-style home
had a killer view of the gentle waters of the bay. The large yard was nicely manicured with a small vegetable garden. Blake
parked, and the three of them got out to the sound of voices on the water side.
Drew gestured to the walkway that skirted the side of the house. “He said they were working on the new deck out on the water.
Nice place.”
“Cute,” Paradise agreed. Their shoes crunched on the crushed oyster shells as they rounded the house to the front. She spotted
a man and a woman sitting on a small pier. The salty breeze lifted Paradise’s hair and blew it in her face. She should have
pulled it back today.
Drew took the lead and walked ahead of them. Even in shorts and a tee, he appeared in charge and professional. Every time she’d had to ask questions, she felt out of her element, but her brother was used to this.
Blake took her hand, and she laced her fingers with his as they fell behind Drew a few feet. “I hope Lewis has some unseen
files for you.”
“Me too. I was trying to remember if I’d ever talked to him. My memories of that time are still faint.”
The pier shuddered when they stepped onto the new boards, and the man turned their way. He wasn’t much taller than Paradise,
but his thick muscles flexed with power under his tee. His cropped Afro highlighted intelligent brown eyes that narrowed when
he spotted them. Paradise was filled with a distinct memory of him putting his hand on her head and telling her he was sorry.
He held out his hand. “Detective Booker Lewis, and you must be Detective Drew Bartley.” He gestured to the woman standing
to one side with a shy smile. She was softly rounded with dark brown hair. “My wife, Chantel.”
Drew shook her hand and made the introductions to Blake and Paradise.
Booker’s expression softened. “You were just a little thing when I saw you last.”
“You were the first officer to come that night,” she said. “You had tears in your eyes when you led me out of the bedroom.”
“We have a daughter about your age. When I got home that night, I went into her bedroom and kissed her while she was sleeping.
You went through a terrible thing, Ms. Alden, just terrible.”
“Call me Paradise.” She glanced Chantel’s way. “I think you came to the funeral?”
Chantel nodded. “We both did. I made sun tea if you’d like some.”
“That would be great,” Drew said. “We’re still floundering on where to look for their killer.”
Booker gestured to an outdoor seating area around a firepit, and they all took a seat. A worn notebook lay on a table next
to one of the chairs, and he picked it up. “These are my notes, and I scanned them into an email and sent them to you, but
I thought maybe we’d go over them together. They might trigger a memory for you, Paradise. Me too, for that matter.” He placed
the notebook on his lap and flipped open the cover. “The thing that struck me was that all the doors were unlocked even though
it was late—11:01 p.m. to be precise. Did your parents commonly lock their doors?”
“Sure. Mom was kind of paranoid about making sure we were locked in tight, especially when Dad was out of town like that night.”
“And you weren’t expecting him back yet?”
“He was supposed to be gone two nights, and he’d left that morning before coming back in the night. I didn’t see him though,
not until h-he was dead.”
“You were so traumatized you didn’t tell us many details of what happened. You remember now?”
She nodded. “Mom was reading to me, and she sat up when she heard a sound. She whispered for me to hide in the closet, so
I scrambled into it and hid in the back.” Paradise could almost smell the vanilla sachet in her memory. “I peeked from under
the clothes and saw her bare feet when she grabbed a baseball bat and turned toward the door.”
Her mouth went dry, and she had to swallow before she could continue.
“Mom screamed, and I heard the baseball bat smack into something. I didn’t scream though, and the intruder never found me.
We thought for a while it was Sheriff Davis, but the man I caught a glimpse of was slim and strong, not bulky like the sheriff. ”
Booker shot her a surprised glance. “You suspected the sheriff?” His wife returned with a tray of iced sweet tea and handed
the glasses around.
Paradise accepted one. “His wife told us he and my mom were having an affair.”
Booker shook his head. “It’s interesting Bea would lie when she knew better.”
“She said he’d asked for a divorce to marry my mom, then changed his mind.”
Booker gave a disgusted snort. “She knew that wasn’t true.”
Paradise glanced at Blake and saw the same confusion on his face that she felt. “Then why was he over there all the time?”
“Gerald Davis was protecting you guys.”
It took a second for the words to penetrate. “Protecting us? From what?”
Booker glanced from her to Drew. “The sheriff knew your dad, Drew. Once your dad found Becky again, that summer before the
murders, he asked Sheriff Davis to watch out for her. He thought that when he told his wife he wanted a divorce, she might
try to hurt Becky.”
Drew leaned forward. “What’s my father’s name?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did. Gerald wouldn’t tell me. He spilled this much the night of the murders. He was talking crazy—saying
it was his fault and he should have protected her. When I questioned him, he told me he was supposed to protect her, but then
he clammed up. I was never able to get more out of him.”
Paradise almost spilled the glass of tea in her hand. Blake put his hand on her knee and whispered, “Steady.”
She set her free hand on top of his and gulped. This changed everything.
Paradise felt as though she might throw up the few gulps of sweet tea residing in her stomach. As they entered Pelican Harbor,
she ran her window down in Blake’s truck and inhaled the aroma of freshly mown grass and salt water. Booker hadn’t had any
other evidence to offer, but his bombshell had been enough to shake the foundations of all they thought they knew about the
case.
Blake pulled into Bea’s driveway. “You sure you want to do this now? I think we’re all shell-shocked, and I’m not sure we’ll
have the right questions.”
“I have plenty of questions,” Paradise said.
Drew shoved open his door in the back seat. “And I want answers.”
Blake shut off the engine and opened his door. “We can always come back.”
Paradise hadn’t called Bea because she wanted the element of surprise. She was relieved when she spotted Bea’s curly salt-and-pepper
hair from where she was bent over pulling weeds in the front flower bed. She wore capris and a sleeveless shirt. A wide-brimmed
hat shaded her face from the bright sunlight. She stood and faced them when the truck doors slammed.
Her smile dimmed when they neared, and her gaze darted from Paradise to Blake before landing on Drew. “I-is something wrong?”
Her soft Southern drawl trembled, and her hand went to her throat.
Paradise reached out and brushed cobwebs from Bea’s hair. “Looks like you’ve been in the attic or the basement.”
Bea leaned over and brushed her hair vigorously. “Going through Gerald’s man cave in the basement.” She straightened and planted
her hands on her hips. “What’s going on?”
“We learned some disturbing news today.” Paradise gestured at her brother. “This is my brother, Drew. Andrew Bartley.”
“You found him.”
“Yes.” Paradise forced her fists to unfurl. They were standing there like guards about to take the woman in front of a firing
squad. Toning down the immediate accusations might get more answers. “I’m sorry to burst in on you without warning, but we
just came from talking to Booker Lewis. We think whoever murdered my parents killed Drew’s father first.”
Bea put her hand to her mouth. “His father is dead? When did this happen?”
“The week before my parents were murdered. Your husband wasn’t having an affair with my mother at all. Why did you tell me
he was?”
Bea paled and took a step back. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Drew put his hand on Paradise’s arm. “I’ll handle it,” he whispered. “Mrs. Davis, Booker told us the truth. The sheriff was
trying to protect Becky. He didn’t file for divorce—you did. I verified it in the court system on the drive here. You filed
for divorce, then dropped the case. Why did you lie about it?”
Bea licked her lips and stared down at her feet. “That’s none of your business.”
“It could be relevant to our investigation. There has to be a reason you lied to Paradise and tried to cast the blame on your
husband. He isn’t here to defend himself, but we’d like the truth.”
Bea’s panicked gaze connected with Paradise’s, and she wrung her hands. “I just wanted the case to be over. You were poking around something that was over long ago. There was no reason to be digging up all that old dirt.”
“Justice is a good reason,” Paradise said in a quiet voice.
Something about Bea’s behavior struck her as odd. The woman kept glancing down the street as if she thought someone else was
coming. “Wait a minute,” Paradise said slowly. “Lloyd Adams was at your house several times. Does he know something about
all this?”
Bea shook her head. “No, no, that’s not it.” She chewed on her lip and left a trace of lipstick on her teeth. “I—I can’t say
more. Can’t you just let it go? You’re making yourselves the targets of a very dangerous person.”
“Was Adams here to warn you?”
The color washed out of Bea’s cheeks. “I can’t talk to you.” She whirled and ran for the house. Drew followed her but she
slammed the door before he could get there. The distinctive click of a lock snapping into place told them the conversation was over.
His expression grim, Drew rejoined them on the lawn. “We’ll try again. This conversation isn’t over. Lloyd Adams was your
foster dad, right?”
“Yes. He’s in jail awaiting trial.”
Drew headed for the truck. “I think we should have a chat with him. He might know who’s behind this.”
Blake took Paradise’s hand and followed. “I’m not so sure. He’s a small-town punk with no power any longer.”
“But he might know things,” Drew said.
Paradise glanced toward the house and saw the curtains flutter.
Bea was watching from inside. “She’s terrified, Drew.
I don’t think she would be afraid of Adams. Whoever is behind this has killed three people.
We can talk to Adams, but I doubt he knows anything, and even if he does, he won’t tell us.
It’s his way of thinking he has power over me.
He’s small and mean and cruel. Bea was truly frightened.
The sheriff took the threat seriously and was at our house quite a lot before the murders. ”
Blake stopped with his hand on the truck door, and his eyes widened. “Wait a minute. If the sheriff knew who was behind this,
why did he let the scuttlebutt and rumors about his involvement stand? Clearly the police force didn’t believe it. Booker
dismissed it out of hand. The sheriff deliberately didn’t correct the gossip. Drew, you might want to look at the sheriff’s
finances. Maybe he was paid to cover it all up. If that’s so, we might be able to find out who paid him.”
Drew opened the truck door and climbed in. “I’ll check it out.”
Paradise got into the truck and took Blake’s hand after he slid under the wheel. Thank you, she mouthed. He always backed her up and rushed to her defense. She was beginning to get used to the sensation of being
cared for and treasured.