“Omitting something from his statement isn’t the same as lying. Mr. Emerson provided Jacob with an alibi, and his phone records back that up, which is why I didn’t bother asking him about it. There goes our opportunity. We have no motive.”
“Jealousy?” Lance suggested.
“We have no evidence that Jacob wanted Tessa for himself.”
“So where to next?” Lance asked.
She checked her messages. “I still haven’t heard from Felicity.” Since she already had a connection with Felicity, Morgan had called the girl directly. She consulted her notes. “That puts Robby Barone on the top of our to-question list.”
Lance frowned. “The Barone place gave me the willies. Maybe I should go there alone or take Sharp.”
“Or perhaps I should go there alone. Mrs. Barone might be more willing to talk to another woman.”
“No.”
Morgan shifted her attention from her notes to Lance’s profile. “Excuse me?”
Lance pulled over to the shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out so authoritatively.”
“I should hope not,” Morgan said dryly. “You know I have plenty of experience with criminal investigations? I take care, but I also do my job.”
Lance turned his shoulders to face her. “I already stopped there to talk to Robby Barone once and got a very bad feeling about the place.”
“What kind of bad feeling?”
“Like both Robby and Mrs. Barone were afraid that the mister would come home while I was there.”
“Maybe they’re scared of him,” she said.
“And afraid of him discovering them talking to me.”
Morgan considered the options. “If she was nervous because her husband is the jealous type, then a visit with another female is less likely to cause friction.” Morgan mentally reviewed the police interview reports. Robby had been briefly questioned at the bowling alley. Horner had never brought him down to the station for a more formal interview. Clearly, the police didn’t think Robby had anything exciting to add to the statements they’d already taken.
“We’ll go together.” Lance pulled back onto the road. “Can you text Sharp and let him know where we’re going? If we never come back, at least he’ll know where to look for our bodies.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lance drove toward the Barone place. He still didn’t like taking Morgan there, but he was going to have to put a leash on his inner guard dog. She’d been a prosecutor for six years. She knew her business, and the Barones wouldn’t be the first hostile witnesses she’d interviewed.
“What do we have in background information on the Barones?” he asked.
Morgan took a file from her giant bag, flipped through some pages, and began to read. “I’ll summarize. No one at the Barone house has a criminal record. Robby, or Robert William Barone, is the second of six kids. He turned sixteen four months ago. His license was issued on his birthday. He has one older sister and four younger ones. The oldest is eighteen. The youngest is eight.”
“Six kids in ten years?”
“My kids are two years apart,” Morgan said.
“But you don’t have six of them,” Lance pointed out.
“We talked about having another.”
“Did you?” Why was he surprised? She was only thirty-three, and she clearly enjoyed her kids. So did he, come to think of it, which was a far scarier revelation.
Morgan turned a page. “Ivy Melissa Barone, age thirty-six, has no record of employment. This is interesting. Ivy doesn’t have a New York State driver’s license.”
“Medical condition?” Lance hadn’t noticed any obvious impairment when he’d spoken to her.
“She had six kids so she can’t be too frail. Pregnancy and childbirth aren’t for the weak.” Morgan’s finger skimmed the paper. “She doesn’t appear in many places. Birth certificate, Social Security registration, marriage certificate, the birth certificates of her six children. And that’s all the information on her. She owns no vehicles or real estate.”
“She doesn’t have a job, she doesn’t drive, and she lives a good distance from town. Mrs. Barone doesn’t get out much.”
“The oldest daughter is eighteen. She doesn’t have a driver’s license either.”
“Robby does,” Lance said, “though he’s only sixteen.”
“Yes. And while Robby attends Scarlet Falls High, all five girls are homeschooled.” Morgan frowned and a deep-in-thought line creased above the bridge of her nose.
“Homeschooling is getting more and more common.”
“It is, but in this situation, it feels more like Dwayne doesn’t like the women to have outside contact.”
Lance agreed, and he didn’t like the impression he was forming of the family.
Morgan continued. “Dwayne David Barone is fifty. He’s worked for Marker Construction for twenty-five years. His position is listed as supervisor. The house is in his name only, as are the cable and utility bills. There’s no mortgage. The property operates as a farm and produces a small income. All taxes are current.”
“So no red flags about Dwayne Barone?”
“No.” Morgan glanced at him. “Except for the lack of information about him. Also, there are no credit cards issued to any of the Barones.”
“That’s unusual,” Lance said. “Mrs. Barone was awfully anxious for me to leave before her husband came home.”
“Possible domestic violence?” Morgan suggested.
Lance nodded. “My impression of her was that she was scared.”
“There’s no record of domestic disturbances or arrests or restraining orders,” Morgan said. “But just because no one ever reported a crime doesn’t mean one never occurred. Plenty of domestic abuse victims are too intimidated to call the police.”
Lance turned into the driveway. Robby’s Toyota sat next to the house. A Ford Bronco in remarkable condition for its age was parked in the shade cast by the barn. The hood was up, and a man leaned over the engine. The German shepherds went ballistic, and the man straightened and stepped away from the vehicle.
That can’t be Robby’s father.
Lance estimated him at six-six and two hundred forty pounds. Dwayne’s middle name should have been “The Rock” instead of David. He took a few steps away from his vehicle, his posture relaxed but ready, his stance almost military-like.
“There’s no record of Dwayne serving in the military?” Lance navigated around a rut in the gravel lane.
Morgan checked. “No.”
Lance stopped the Jeep next to the Bronco and got out of the vehicle.
“Hello,” he said.
“Can I help you with something?” Dwayne held a torque wrench in one hand. Grease stained his gray coveralls, and his shaved head gleamed. He set his wrench in the toolbox at his feet, took a bandana from the back pocket of his coveralls, and wiped his hands. Despite the sweat, Mr. Barone was a cool customer.
“Yes.” Lance took a business card from his pocket while Morgan made the introductions.
“I’m representing Nick Zabrowski,” she said.
Dwayne shook their hands. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to ask your son, Robby, a few questions,” Morgan said.
Dwayne’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”
“I’m interviewing all of the kids that attended the lake party on Thursday night.” Morgan smiled.
“He already spoke to the police.” Dwayne shifted his weight onto his heels and crossed thick arms over his chest.
“Yes.” She nodded. “We know. But I need to question everyone involved in the case in order to prove Nick is innocent.”
“The police seem to think he’s guilty,” Dwayne said.
Did Lance hear a slight echo of distrust when Dwayne uttered the word police?
Morgan nodded. “They’ve made a mistake.”
Lance played his card. “It doesn’t seem to concern them that they might have the wrong man.”
Dwayne didn’t bite on the comment, but a flicker of irritation accompanied his almost imperceptible nod.
“Is Robby here?” Morgan’s gaze drifted to the house.
“He is. I suppose if I don’t let you talk to him, you’ll get a subpoena?” Another interesting fact about Dwayne Barone: he knew a thing or two about the law.
“Yes. I wouldn’t have a choice. It’s my job to give Nick the best possible defense.” What Morgan didn’t say is that she’d probably depose Robby if he had anything relevant to say today.
“I’ll get him. Wait here.” Dwayne’s request was clearly an order. He stalked away and went into the house.
“I guess we’re not getting an invite inside,” Lance said. He’d really wanted a look at the family dynamics, a chance to poke around their home.
“No. That’s clear,” Morgan agreed.
Two minutes later, Dwayne returned with Robby in tow. Their relationship could be summed up by the bow of Robby’s head and the hunch of his shoulders. Dwayne stood at the boy’s side, one enormous hand dwarfing the boy’s shoulder. The contact could have been intended as comfort, but Robby seemed cowed.
“Hi, Robby.” Morgan introduced herself and Lance. “I’m representing Nick.”
“I know who you are,” Robby mumbled.
“Mind your manners.” Dwayne’s fingers tightened, and a brief wince crossed Robby’s face before he smoothed it over.
“I need to ask you a few questions,” Morgan said.
Robby lifted his eyes. There was no sign of cockiness in them, only defeat and humiliation. “Yes, ma’am.”
“When did you arrive at the party?” She began with routine facts to get the interview warmed up. Robby’s answer agreed with everyone else’s.
“Tell me what happened between Jacob and Nick.” Morgan’s head tilted. If Dwayne hadn’t been there, intimidating the hell out of his son, her gentle voice and demeanor would have encouraged Robby to talk.
But Dwayne was there, with his anvil-size hand as a constant reminder of whatever order he’d given his son.
“I don’t know.” Robby’s eyes drifted to his left sneaker.
He knows plenty.
“You saw the video, right?” Morgan prompted. Smart of her not to inform Dwayne that Robby had been the one to show the video to Lance.
“Yeah,” Robby admitted. “Jacob and Nick got into it.” His voice sharpened when he said Jacob.
“But you don’t know what started the altercation?” Morgan asked.
“No.” Robby shook his head, purposefully avoiding eye contact. “I wasn’t close enough to hear.”
Liar.
Robby’s pants should have burst into flames.
“Did you see Nick and Tessa after the fight?” Morgan asked.
Dwayne’s fingers moved, ever so slightly, but Lance didn’t miss the boy’s very small flinch.
“No.” Robby’s jaw tightened. Tears moistened his eyes.
Morgan tried a few more questions, but Robby refused to admit knowing anything else, like who had left the party at what time, or who had been the last person to see Tessa alive.
“I can’t tell you anything else.” The boy’s gaze lifted. For a few seconds, his stare burned with anger.
“Thank you, Robby. I really appreciate that you tried.” Morgan gave the boy an understanding smile.
Robby’s head bobbed once in acknowledgment.
The slap of wood on wood sounded as loud as a gunshot. Everyone turned toward the house. Two slim redheaded girls carried baskets of laundry toward a clothesline. They wore the same type of below-the-knee, shapeless cotton dress that their mother had worn when Lance had first come to the house.
“Get back inside,” Dwayne barked at them.
They paused for a split second, their eyes opening wide, and then turned and bolted for the house. A few items of wet clothing fell from the smaller girl’s basket.
Morgan shot Dwayne a frown, then quickly lifted the corners of her mouth into a forced and tight smile. “Thank you very much for your cooperation, Mr. Barone.”
Dwayne nodded, his eyes hard.
Lance felt Dwayne’s eyes on his back all the way back to the Jeep.
He slid behind the wheel, closed the vehicle door, and started the engine. “How old were those girls?”
“About twelve and fourteen.” Morgan fastened her seatbelt. “And they’re terrified of Dwayne.”
“I think everyone that lives in that house is terrified of him.” Lance steered the Jeep onto the main road and drove away from the farm, his fingers tight on the wheel. Robby wasn’t a Boy Scout, but he didn’t deserve his father’s treatment.
“Why was it such a big deal for the girls to be outside while we were there?” Morgan asked.
“I don’t know, but I think we should find out.”
“There’s no love lost between father and son.” Morgan turned her head to glance at the farmhouse through the rear window. “The kids we’ve seen take after their mother, very small and slim . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“While Dwayne looks like a retired WWE star.” Lance finished her thought. “Dwayne has to be disappointed in his son. His only boy is a ninety-eight-pound weakling.”
“Dwayne’s a bully,” Morgan said.
“How old is he again?” Lance asked.
“Fifty.”
“And Ivy is thirty-six?”
“Yes.”
“How old was she when they married?”
“Oh. She must have been young.” Morgan scrolled on her phone. “She was seventeen when they married, and Dwayne was thirty-one.” Morgan looked up.
“What did you think of thirty-one-year-old men when you were seventeen?” Lance asked.
“At seventeen, anyone over the age of twenty-five was gross,” Morgan said.
Lance made a right at a stop sign. “Not only did Ivy marry very young, she had her first baby within a year.”
“I don’t know what to think about that.” Morgan tapped a finger on her lower lip. “Or how it might be relevant to Tessa’s death. I’d like to know if Tessa knew Dwayne.”
“When I spoke with Mrs. Barone, she said that Tessa had been the same age as her oldest daughter.”
“I wonder if Tessa ever paid a visit to the farm.”
Lance said, “I can’t see Dwayne approving playdates, and I definitely think Dwayne has to approve everything that happens on that farm.”
“Yes.” Morgan frowned. “Those two girls were clearly scared. I don’t like it, but I still can’t figure out how that might connect to Tessa’s murder.”
“Me either. I’ll get my mom to do some deeper digging into the Barone family. What did you think of the way Robby practically spat out Jacob’s name?”
“He doesn’t love Jacob, that’s for sure,” Morgan said.
Lance scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. “You know this whole investigation would be easier if everyone wasn’t lying.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
As Lance drove away from the Barone farm, Morgan set down her phone. It was four p.m. Where had the day gone? They’d made so little progress. She needed to regroup, to go back to the beginning and look at the crime anew.
“Let’s visit the crime scene before it gets dark,” she said. “Do you have a camera?”
“In the console.” Lance lifted his arm.
Morgan retrieved the camera. Though the police had already photographed the scene, they were viewing the case from an entirely different angle. When she’d worked on homicide cases for the Albany County DA, she’d always visited the crime scenes to make sure she had an in-person perspective. Photos and diagrams weren’t enough to visualize how the crime played out. She’d caught more than one criminal in a lie because he’d gotten slight details wrong.
Lance pulled onto the road and made the next left.
Morgan reviewed her notes on the crime scene during the drive out to the lake. Lance turned down the same dirt lane they’d used the night they’d found
Tessa’s body. He parked short of the clearing.
As she climbed out of the car, Morgan’s stomach curled. Every sense—the crunch of dead leaves underfoot, the scents of pine and lake water, the sound of the breeze ruffling the branches overhead—brought back the memory of finding Tessa’s body.
In person, she’d seen the girl at night, with the darkness concealing many of the details. But the police and autopsy photos had highlighted every bloodstain, every smudge of dirt, every deep wound and small scratch on Tessa’s body. Now, Morgan’s mind superimposed those new details onto her memory.
A hard shiver rattled her bones, and Morgan could feel eyes on the center of her back. Was it her imagination? She scanned the surrounding forest. The trees were dense, and even in the broad daylight of late afternoon, the woods provided plenty of shadows.
“Are you all right?” Lance stepped up to her side.
“Yes.” Morgan shook off her fear. “Hold on.” She opened her tote and took out her pair of emergency flats. After changing her shoes, she left her heels in the Jeep.
“Is there anything you don’t keep in that bag?” Lance pressed the button on the fob. With a beep, the vehicle’s doors locked.
“I like to be prepared.” Morgan fell into step beside him.
The overwhelming sense of being watched closed over her again. The hairs lifted on the back of her neck, her instincts practically screaming for her attention. She stopped to survey the woods.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Lance asked.
She lowered her voice. “I feel like we’re not alone.”
“This place is giving me the creeps too.” His gaze followed hers.
“It’s probably just knowing what happened here that’s making us nervous.” She forged ahead. “I could be paranoid. When I was ten, we took a family camping trip to the Catskills. I spotted a couple of deer and wandered away from camp. Before I knew it, I was lost. They didn’t find me until morning.”
“You spent the night out in the woods alone?”
“Yes.” Morgan set off toward the clearing. “I’ve never had much love for the woods or the dark since.”
“And I’m sure finding Tessa’s body didn’t improve your opinion of either.”
Say You're Sorry (Morgan Dane Book 1) Page 19
