“Where was your mother at twelve thirty?”
“She was at the stove when I left. Arguing with Junior. Luke, I mean. I haven’t called him Junior in fourteen years now. Luther named him; I was thrilled to change it to Luke.”
“What were they arguing about?” Miranda asked. “I don’t really remember him very well. Wasn’t he in my sister’s class?”
“Yes. He had a lot to say about her back then. Thought she was just the greatest thing. Luke had a lot to say about everything. Still does.”
“I haven’t spoken with him yet. We’re going to speak to Lesley first. I know he was gone until about five forty-five that day. He had said he came home, and you were there, telling him he had to pack. Just let us narrow down a timeframe for when Jim could have killed your mother, and we’ll get on with the rest of the interviews. We need to figure out why Jim did it before we can close the case fully.”
“I went back to work. Clocked back in by one fifteen. I had to be back at my press by one twenty. I have witnesses.”
“Yes, we know. Now we spoke with Kayla. She confirmed that your mother was fine at around two thirty. So whoever hurt your mother did so between two forty-five or so and when you arrived home at four forty-five or so?”
“Had to have been. I never spoke to her again, after she threw us out on my lunch break. I just don’t know. I just don’t. I don’t know what more you can ask. I went back to work, and I came home and told my four sick kids to pack. That’s it.”
“Why did you not wait for your mother, to discuss things? Perhaps come to a compromise?”
“There was a letter on the table. In her handwriting. Telling us to get out. So we left. We just left. Maybe I panicked. I called Luther, and he came home. He was pissed. He always hated my mother. Maybe you need to talk to him?”
“Luther wasn’t anywhere near the house at any time during what occurred,” Miranda said. “We know this. We know Lesley wasn’t. We know the younger kids were. But since the girls were too young to have killed your mother and buried her, we’ve excluded them.”
“You saying one of my kids hurt my mother and got Jim to bury her. That doesn’t make any sense. It just doesn’t.”
“It doesn’t, does it?” Miranda asked. “So tell us, Pauline…why does Jim insist you told him to bury your mother in the barn?”
57
They had Pauline. Miranda knew it with one look. Jac had had the foresight to take photos of the scarring on Luke Meynard’s temple from where his grandmother had attacked him. And he’d given a sworn statement, in the presence of his attorney, that he had struck his grandmother in self-defense at approximately 2:40 on the day she’d died. But she’d been still alive when he had last seen her. Then he heard her arguing with someone. A few hours later.
Over him.
“Pauline, can you take a look at this photo, please?” Miranda slid the snapshot in front of the woman. Pauline was cuffed to the table, a far cry from her last interview. Identity theft and tax evasion had been mentioned. As had the fact that she’d basically attacked Max, slicing his arm to ribbons and even biting him.
It was the biting that had done it. Max was extremely pissed off by people who bit him. It had almost been enough to have him losing his legendary temper.
Legendary because Maddox Jones had never appeared to even have a temper.
“Yeah, it’s my son. Luke. What about him. And why is the camera pointed at his head like that?”
“Do you remember how Luke received that scar?” Jac had filled her in on the entire story. It had sickened Miranda.
She’d always liked Junior back then. He hadn’t been super-annoying or anything. He had hung around her sister Marin a bit, always quiet and good with numbers. Usually he had his slightly younger sister Honey tagging along behind him.
She was glad things had worked out for him. Marin had always been a great judge of character and had mentioned many times that she wondered what had happened to Junior Beise.
Once the case was over, Miranda could tell her sister he’d turned out just fine.
“Of course, I don’t. I have eight kids and seven grandkids, how am I supposed to keep up with every bump and bruise? You have a question about Luke, ask Luke.”
“He stated here that ‘My grandmother was angry with me, and she struck out with a steel spatula, causing the area around my eye to tear.’ He became nauseated and vomited after seeing the blood.”
“Never could handle blood, that one. Used to drive Luther crazy, taking him into the woods to toughen him up. Well, he’s not so tough now. Wears a suit, but at least he knows how to handle money. Handles a few investments for me, when I have the spare cash, so I don’t end up on the streets. He’s probably my smartest boy. Always was smart-mouthed, too. Him and Diane.” She shot a narrow look at Miranda. “You know that. You were just as cocky as my daughter.”
“Aren’t most fifteen-year-olds, though? I thought I knew everything back then. My poor grandmother was going nuts from raising all seven of us, eight if you count my cousin Charlotte. Funny you and my grandmother have that in common. But one thing Luke is adamant about, Pauline…he swears that he heard you arguing with your mother after she hit him repeatedly.”
“Nonsense. I didn’t see my mother again that day. Not after I went back to work.” She smirked at Miranda and Knight. “I told you that. There was a letter telling us to get out. So we got out.”
“Come on, you don’t just pack up your family and move and change everyone’s basic identities, erase their very existences, over an argument with your mother. Did you argue over Luke that afternoon?”
“No! I never argued with her, other than on my lunch break. Not after I stopped by the house to check on the kids.” Pauline’s hands clenched and unclenched, sweat beaded on her lip. But her eyes remained on Miranda. Almost fixed.
“Pauline, once we speak to Mon—Diane, it’ll be hard for me to remember that name. Wasn’t it her middle name? No. That was Daphne. She always loved the fact that she had the same initials as my sisters, cousins, and me. Said she wished my grandmother would take her in, too.” Monica had always made a big deal—sometimes embarrassingly so—about how Miranda’s grandmother hadn’t had to take her and her sisters—or her cousins—in after their mother had died. That they were just living on her good graces.
Miranda had never understood it. Not back then.
Now she had an inkling why. No doubt that same sentiment had been pounded into her head from the time she was a small child. “Did your mother routinely hit your children?”
They knew she had. Both Luke and Lesley had made that very clear.
Luke had the scars to prove it.
He had freely admitted to shoving his grandmother down. Miranda had called Nate Masterson and confirmed with him, and with Dr. Stephenson back at PAVAD, that the injury to Helen’s forehead could have occurred in the manner Luke had described.
Both agreed it was possible. And that it wasn’t fatal. Nowhere near.
The first injury to her forehead hadn’t caused her death. Technically, neither had the second blow. Being buried alive had.
“Pauline, we know you were there. We know you argued with your mother. Tell us what happened next. Or we’re going to charge you with murdering your mother. It’s just a matter of time until we get the story from everyone else. If you know more than you are saying, now’s the time to spill, before it gets really bad for you.”
“It wasn’t me! I argued with her, yes. Told her never to put one of her filthy hands on my kids again. What would you have done if she’d gone after your little boy with a piece of stainless steel? Beating him because he was sick, ridiculing him for puking. Kids puke when their sick. But she didn’t care. I think she wanted to kill him that day. Probably would have, too.”
“What stopped her? Luke knocking her down? We know he’s responsible for the first head injury, but who wrapped your mother in a half-sewn quilt so tightly thread sliced through her arms as she fought to es
cape the soil heaped on top of her? Who? Did you kill your mother?”
The lawyer refused to let her answer after that. Miranda mentally shrugged. They’d find the answers they sought, one way or another. But one thing was absolutely certain—Pauline knew exactly what had happened to Helen.
Miranda had other ways to get the answers she needed.
58
Miranda knew what they were doing was a major gamble. But with the fourteen years that had passed since Helen’s death, memories had grown convoluted and incomplete. Especially when the ages of the younger children were considered.
She was ninety-nine percent certain the people in the room now were innocent of Helen’s death. They just had to tie up all the loose ends.
It bugged her that they hadn’t been able to find Monica. Miranda liked details, liked things tied up. She didn’t like these kinds of loose ends.
Miranda took the seat at the head of the conference table. It was a position of power, and she understood the psychology behind it. Knight stood at her immediate left. She almost smiled at the enforcer position.
Max took up a position by the door, along with Joel. Clint stood by the window, taking the position next to Jac, who had taken the seat on Miranda’s left. He’d attached himself to Jac, almost, since the attack on his home. No wonder. Jac and Maggie Tyler not only favored each other physically but had similar personalities. Jac was doing what she could to help him through this, too. She had a soft heart and was very empathetic for those she knew were hurting.
They had Luke, Olivia, Marnie and Kayla, and their father. Lesley would be joining them from the county jail shortly. Pauline, on advice of her attorney, had refused to say anything else. Luther’s younger child, a girl named Megan, was in school for the day. She hadn’t even been born, so they didn’t need to speak with her. She was only thirteen.
Miranda had two priorities—confirm that Pauline was in the barn with her mother and find Monica. Monica had been home before Lesley that day. Luke had been hiding beneath his bed, but Monica had been in the center of the action. And had been old enough to be a credible witness. If they could get her to talk.
Monica could hold the key to everything.
It was her mother they wanted her to roll over on. That probably wouldn’t go over well.
They were banking on the people in the room not knowing what had happened to Pauline yet.
“Thank you for coming here today,” Miranda started softly. She’d known all of these people since she had been nine years old. Kayla had been just a baby when she’d first met her.
“What is this about?” Luther asked, quietly. He looked at Knight for clarification. Miranda had gotten the impression he was drawn to Knight’s scar. To the obvious similarity between them. Luther just came across as far more vulnerable to Miranda than he had when she’d been a girl. No doubt it was due to the traumatic brain injury, and the changes it had caused. “I have a kid at home I need to see.”
“Dad, we’re going to listen, ok? We’ll take a pizza home after this,” Olivia said. Miranda studied her, looking for hints of the girl she’d once been. Her biggest memories of the Beise kids had been timidity. She was used to her own family, where, for the most part, everyone spoke what they felt and went after what they wanted. Some of them were quieter—Dusty and Daisy were all quieter on the scale than the rest of them—but all of them were confident women at heart. It hadn’t been that way for Monica and her sisters. There had been so much self-doubt in Monica.
Now Miranda suspected she knew why.
But Monica had stayed with her mother and Lesley when Luther had taken the five younger children and moved across state lines. She wanted an explanation for that.
“What’s this about?” Luke asked. He had an infant in his arms and had already apologized profusely for not being able to leave his youngest at home, as his wife was working, and her family had the older two children. The infant was far too young, Luke had said, to leave with a sitter.
He held his daughter lovingly and seemed like a very competent father. The baby fussed lightly, he soothed her, then held her out to his sister. Olivia took the little baby expertly. She’d held her brother’s child before. Kayla was tending to her father, reassuring him that they’d take him for pizza after the meeting was over. Marnie was making faces at her niece.
They were a family. A close one. There wasn’t any tension between the four of them that she could sense at all. Luke pulled a small bottle from his bag and took his daughter back.
Miranda took it as the signal to begin.
Lesley would be there shortly. He’d been processed and arraigned and would be brought upstairs for this meeting before being released on his own reconnaissance.
Pauline was in a cell in the basement. In case Miranda had to ask her a question quickly. Dr. Appell waited with the deputy assigned to guard Pauline, cell phone at the ready for those questions.
“Thank you all for coming in today. We know you have questions. First, has anyone been able to get ahold of Mon—Diane? I’m sorry. I remember you all by your previous names. It may take me a minute or two to remember. If I call you by the wrong name, just remind me, ok?”
“Of course,” Olivia said. She and Luke were the obvious spokesmen for the family. The protectors. Kayla rarely spoke at all. “We just want answers, too. I don’t remember much about my grandmother, but to be honest, what I do remember isn’t pleasant. But if something happened to her, we all want to know. No matter what the answers are.”
Before Miranda could respond, a knock came at the door.
Knight tensed at the knock, though he suspected it was Lesley Beise. The tightness in his shoulders increased when his supposition was confirmed. Lesley was definitely the black sheep of the Beise family. Even cleaned up for his court appearance, he still looked shabby, especially when next to his brother. They resembled each other, but whereas Luke Beise wore casual business dress easily, the suit and tie Lesley wore made him look even more uncomfortable. The Beise sisters were in casual wear, as well, and looked neat, clean, and attractive. Even Luther had clean clothing that was in good condition, though old, that was well-kept. No doubt his children checked in on him routinely.
Luther had been making noises about making flower planters for his daughter Kayla, who apparently liked to garden and worked for a florist part-time while working toward her nursing degree.
He was promising to be home for the weekend and having his older daughter program the reminder into his calendar app on his phone. She told him twice to check his messages at bedtime, so she could remind him of his schedule for the next day.
He had strategies to deal with the short-term-memory issues, apparently, and functioned very well in his life and as a member of his core family group.
Then the man turned to his second son and reached out. For his granddaughter. Luke passed the infant without hesitation, bottle and all. Luther held her comfortably. Easily. Like he’d held her many times before.
Luther Beise was a better father than people had thought he’d been before.
These people belonged to each other. The only one who seemed ill at ease was Lesley.
Lesley, who kept eyeing Miranda warily.
Knight shifted, crossed his arms over his chest, and stepped closer to her. He barely resisted the urge to snarl his teeth at the other man.
He smirked instead. Humans were animals. He was no different. The subconscious part of him knew there was a threat to the woman he was attracted to—the beast part of him wanted to react with aggression. To run the other animal off completely.
Lesley looked at Miranda. “Sorry about the other day. Didn’t mean to hurt you. I just panicked.”
“We won’t mention it. We’re here to discuss what happened that day fourteen years ago, instead.” Miranda’s tone hadn’t cooled at all. Strictly professional and almost welcoming in a way. In charge. “Please take a seat. We’re just trying to get a timeline of what happened that day.”
“W
e’ve told you what we know,” Luther said. “Where’s Pauline? Shouldn’t she be here? It’s her mother, after all.”
Knight tensed again. Miranda shot him a look out of those green eyes. Usually those eyes told him exactly what she was thinking, but her face was carefully blank now. When she turned back to the Beises, her tone hadn’t changed. “Pauline has been arrested, Luther. She admits that she struck her mother that day, wrapped her in a quilt, and asked Jim Hollace to bury her in the barn. Jim confessed to his part and corroborated everything. The two of them together killed Helen.”
Knight expected a huge outcry.
They got silence. Stark silence. Even the baby was quiet.
Everyone turned to stare at Miranda. Knight fought the urge to drop one hand to her shoulder and make it clear to all of them that she was protected.
He had to get himself back in gear. He’d come to a resolution about the woman late into the night.
Not for him. Period.
Finally, Luke straightened in his chair and stared at Miranda. “It was because of me, wasn’t it?”
“In part, the argument you had with your grandmother was probably a trigger. Your mother hasn’t said why. Not fully,” Miranda started. “We believe it was an accident. An argument that escalated. Your mother most likely thought Helen had died from the blow. She panicked and asked Jim—who she was having an affair with—to bury Helen in the barn. But Helen was unconscious, not dead. She suffocated.”
“She wasn’t dead?” a small voice asked from the other end of the table. One that had Knight’s attention jerking toward the other end of the table.
Kayla. Young, with dark brown eyes, pale skin, and a fragile air about her. She was almost ethereal in appearance. Unlike her older sister, who had the everybody’s-kid-sister vibe going on.
It was the first thing she’d said that had been loud enough for Knight to hear. He looked at her quickly. She was barely more than a kid. Twenty-two, he believed. Young and overwhelmed and had just learned her mother was a murderer.
Buried Secrets: PAVAD: FBI Case File #0005 (PAVAD: FBI Case Files) Page 21
