Chapter 19
Blake plugged in the answering machine. It was a Casio PhoneMate with digital recording capability, and he’d already skimmed
the booklet. “This thing must have been the bomb back then. It didn’t use a tape and had eighteen minutes of storage for messages.
As long as Lily never used it, whatever was recorded on it at the time of the murders should still be on it.”
Paradise stopped his hand when he started to hit the Play button. “I’m afraid, Blake.”
“You don’t have to listen to it. I can do it and write down anything important.”
She pulled her hand back. “I’m being childish. It’s not like it’s going to be Mom screaming as she’s dying or anything.” Paradise
gulped and nodded. “Go ahead.”
“If it’s too much, we’ll hit the Stop button. It may not even work.” But his intuition said it would work fine and might hold
some important information. He pressed the saved messages button with one hand and clutched her fingers with the other.
“December 12, 2005, at 2:00 p.m.” Then the beep. “I’m trying to reach Becky Alden. This is William Fletcher, and I’ve been hired to track down the child you gave up for adoption. You can reach me at this number.” He rattled off a phone number. “It’s very important you call me back.”
“The PI,” Blake said.
Paradise nodded and clutched his hand tighter. “Just a couple of months before they died.”
The machine moved on to the next saved message. “January 25, 2005, at 11:00 a.m.” A beep came, then a male voice. “Becky, it’s me. I—I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think you’re in danger. I want you to get out of town for a little
while. Be careful, sweetheart. We can’t be together right now. Be patient.”
A week before the murders. Why hadn’t Becky listened and gotten out of town?
“January 25, 2005, at 6:00 p.m.” A beep sounded and the next saved message started. “It’s Sheriff Davis, Becky. I just received some terrible news. I hate to give it to you over the phone, but I can’t get home
for another hour or two. You need to get out of the house. Ben is dead, and I think whoever killed him is coming after you
next. Tell Granger the truth. Take Paradise and hole up somewhere. Take this seriously, please.”
“The sheriff was protecting her like Booker Lewis said,” Paradise murmured.
“I’ll play the more recent messages. I thought maybe there wouldn’t be any.” He jabbed the button.
A mechanical voice spoke. “February 2, 2005, at 8:00 a.m.” There was a beep, and a female voice spoke. “Your cable repair is scheduled for today at 10:00 a.m. If you need to reschedule, please call us back.”
“The day they died,” Paradise whispered. “When I got the monkey music box.”
Blake reached for his phone. “I’m going to text Drew. The dates might help Drew figure out the name of his father.” He tapped out a message. “End of messages,” the machine intoned.
Paradise’s grip tightened on his hand. “Why didn’t Mom do what he said? Did she think he was lying?”
“It’s impossible to say, babe. Maybe she thought the sheriff was overreacting. I don’t get why Becky was a target.”
Paradise pulled her hand away and stood to pace the living room floor. “None of it makes sense.”
The front door opened, and Drew stepped in. He crossed the floor to embrace his sister. “You okay, Sis?”
“Sheriff Davis warned Mom to leave the house, that whoever killed your dad was coming after her.” She rested her head on his
shoulder and swiped at the tears on her face. “She didn’t listen! Why didn’t she pay attention? Life would have been so different
if she’d left the house. And your dad warned her a week before she died too. She ignored everyone.”
Blake wanted to hold her, but he let Drew comfort her. He had the right to. “But would it have changed anything, babe? How
long could she have stayed gone? You had school, she had a job, and life would have to resume at some point. The killer could
have come at any time. There are always what-ifs in any situation, but we can’t change what is. You’re brave and strong. Nothing
has broken you. I know you miss them though. That’s the worst part of all of this.”
She nodded and stepped away from Drew. “I think I’ll go to bed. I can’t think about this any longer tonight. It hurts too
much.”
Blake didn’t try to stop her. Pain like hers sometimes required being alone with God, who was the only true comfort. He hoped
his plans for tomorrow would help her focus on the future and not a past that couldn’t be changed. He said good night to Drew,
then reached for his Bible to help his own heart.
The boys chattered with excitement as they lugged their fishing poles and tackle boxes from the van to the beach at Pascagoula.
Mom went with them to check out the pier.
Blake scrolled through the checklist in his head.
Water, snacks, swimsuits, towels, and a change of clothes.
He handed Paradise a stack of towels and watched her carry them toward the water to stake a spot until Mom got back with the boys.
Paradise glanced back and he held up five fingers to let her know they needed to leave shortly. She gave him a thumbs-up and
picked up the pace. She seemed fine this morning after the trauma of listening to the answering machine’s messages last night.
She’d told him she’d prayed and wrestled with it all for about an hour until she fell asleep.
He patted his pocket to make sure the ring was still there. Yep. Hez and Savannah were meeting them at Lighthouse Park at
five to catch the afternoon light. He’d made reservations at Brady’s Steaks and Seafood to celebrate after pictures were taken
and she hopefully said yes.
Was he making the right choice about how and when to propose? He’d been tempted to do it privately, but love had been in short
supply after her parents died, and his family had gone a long way toward healing the hurts in her heart. This felt right.
Drew lifted the cooler out of the back of the van. “More food.”
“You’ve never seen my brothers eat after swimming. Their stomachs are endless pits.”
Drew eyed him. “You look nervous, but you don’t have to worry. She’ll say yes.”
“I hope you’re right.” Blake kept remembering her stricken expression when she proposed and he said not yet. He’d been sure she was doing it out of pity when they were about to lose the refuge, but he wasn’t so sure now. He glanced at his watch. “Fletcher is still expecting us at lunch?”
“I got a text from him. He’s at the restaurant. I told him we’d be there in ten minutes.”
Blake spotted Paradise hurrying back from the beach. “We’re ready to go.”
He held the door open for her, and she slid in. “I can’t wait to get in the water myself. The boys were sure they’d be able
to catch all our dinner, and I didn’t have the heart to tell them they’d have to do catch and release today.”
As far as Paradise knew, they were grilling burgers later, and Blake’s palms grew sweaty on the steering wheel. What if he
slipped up and spilled the secret? What if Hez and Savannah came early and Paradise figured it out? He swallowed and focused
on the short drive to the meeting place.
The café was on a quiet street off the main drag in downtown Pascagoula, and he quickly found a parking spot. Paradise was
a little pale when she climbed out of the van. “I’m trying not to get my hopes up that we’re going to crack the case today.”
Drew slid the van’s back door closed. “Me too.”
They entered the small eating place and Blake glanced around. It was eleven thirty, a little early for a big lunch crowd,
and he spotted an older man at a back booth with papers spread out on the table. His gray hair was parted low on one side
to comb over the bald spot on top. The waitress had already brought him iced tea and a plate of fried oysters.
The man looked up and brightened before waving them over.
He stood as they approached and held out his hand.
“William Fletcher here, but everyone calls me Fletch.” He reached for Blake’s hand.
“You must be Blake. I recognize you from the pictures on The Sanctuary website.” His gaze went to Paradise.
“This pretty lady must be Paradise Alden. You look like your mother.” He stared hard at Drew.
“And Detective Andrew Bartley. You were hard to find. Impossible, really.” He gestured to the benches. “Have a seat.”
Paradise slid in first, and Blake settled in beside her while Drew sat across from his sister. Fletch sat in front of his
computer and papers. “I brought everything I have on the case and copied every scrap of evidence I found.”
Drew angled his back into the corner by the window to stare at Fletch. “The first thing I’d like to know is who hired you.”
“The person wanted to stay anonymous. I never liked working that way so it didn’t take me long to track her down.”
Paradise straightened. “Her?”
“Yep. It was a woman by the name of Pamela Collins.”
“Was her husband Ben?” Paradise asked.
Fletch raised a brow. “You already knew?”
“We discovered the first name of Drew’s father, but that was all we’d found out.” She pulled out the onyx cuff link and showed
him the C. “This makes sense now.”
“I was unable to give her much information about you, Drew. Becky refused to give up the names of your adoptive parents.”
“There’s more you might not know.” Blake told him about the messages on the answering machine.
“How did my father die?” Drew’s voice was a monotone.
“He was killed on January 25, 2005, a week before the Aldens. His body was discovered at just after 5:00 p.m., but time of death was placed right after lunch based on stomach contents. We know he ordered a pizza at 11:00 a.m. The police assumed it was a robbery gone wrong. Ben owned a huge building full of collectible vehicles, and his family was wealthy. One of the cars, a 1970 yellow Hemi Barracuda, was missing. It’s never been found.
” Fletch studied Drew’s expression. “Strangely enough, Pamela Collins died from a fall down the stairs a week later. She died the day before the murders in Nova Cambridge.”
Paradise gasped and leaned forward. “She was killed?”
“I have my suspicions, but it was ruled an accidental death.”
Blake didn’t buy it. That was way too coincidental. He reached for Paradise’s hand, and she laced her fingers through his.
Drew raked his hand through his hair. “This is a very convoluted case. I’d like to see those case files. Pamela’s death is
too coincidental for my liking. Paradise remembers seeing Becky kissing a man.”
“Was politics involved at all?” Blake asked. “Maybe someone was trying to avoid a scandal?”
“I suggested that angle to the police. Ben was planning to run for the Mississippi Senate. He comes from a long line of politicians.”
“Who’s his family?” Drew asked in a tense voice.
The name Collins had been rolling around in Blake’s head. “Is it the Holden Collins family?”
“Bingo,” Fletch said.
That Collins family just happened to be one of the most prestigious families in Mississippi. There had been multiple governors
and senators and even a Collins who’d run for president. Blake let out a low whistle. The pool of suspects just got a lot
bigger.