“She’s safe” was all Jeffrey would tell him. “I’m not finished talking to you.”
Lev saw that the only way out the door was past Jeffrey. Though he would certainly win that fight, Jeffrey was glad the bigger man didn’t push it.
Lev asked, “Will you at least call her mother?”
“I already did,” Jeffrey lied. “Esther was very relieved to hear she was safe.”
Lev settled back down, relieved but still obviously conflicted. “This is a lot to absorb.” He had the habit of biting his bottom lip, the same as his niece. “Why did you ask about my wife?”
“Did she ever own a house in Savannah?”
“Of course not,” he replied. “Stephanie lived here all of her life. I don’t even think she’d ever been to Savannah.”
“How long has Paul worked there?”
“About six years, give or take.”
“Why Savannah?”
“We have a lot of vendors and buyers in the area. It’s easier for him to do business with them face-to-face.” He seemed a bit guilty when he added, “The farm is a slow pace for Paul. He likes to be in the city sometimes.”
“His wife doesn’t go with him?”
“He has six kids,” Lev pointed out. “He’s obviously home a great deal of the time.”
Jeffrey noticed he misinterpreted the question, but perhaps in this family it was normal for husbands to leave their wives alone with the kids every other week. Jeffrey couldn’t think of a man out there who wouldn’t be happy with this kind of arrangement, but he was hard-pressed to think of any woman who would be.
He asked, “Have you ever been to his house in Savannah?”
“Quite often,” Lev answered. “He lives in an apartment over the office.”
“He doesn’t live in a house on Sandon Square?”
Lev roared a laugh. “Hardly,” he said. “That’s one of the wealthiest streets in the city.”
“And your wife never visited there?”
Lev shook his head again, sounding slightly irritated when he said, “I’ve been answering all of your questions to the best of my abilities. Is there ever going to come a point when you can tell me what this is all about?”
Jeffrey decided it was his turn to give a little. He took out the original insurance policies from his pocket and handed them to Lev. “Abby left these for Rebecca.”
Lev took the pages, unfolding them and spreading them flat on his desk. “Left them how?”
Jeffrey didn’t answer, but Lev didn’t notice. He was leaning over his desk, tracing his finger down each page as he read. Jeffrey noticed the set to his jaw, the anger in his stance.
Lev straightened up. “These people lived on our farm.”
“That’s right.”
“This one”-he held up one of the pages-“Larry. He ran off. Cole told us he ran off.”
“He’s dead.”
Lev stared at him, his eyes moving back and forth across Jeffrey’s face as if to read where this was going.
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.