Hush Little Girl by Lisa Regan (first e reader .txt) 📗

“Did Pax sneak off to their house?” Josie asked. “You said you didn’t want him to go.”

“Yeah, he’d disappear on me when I was busy or when he was on his own. Ride his bike up there.”

Noah said, “Do you leave him on his own often?”

“It’s a lot of work dealing with him and trying to keep my farm and business going. Yeah, sometimes he has to be on his own. Can’t be helped.”

“Was he on his own at any time yesterday morning?” Noah asked.

Josie counted off the seconds of hesitation before Reed answered. One, two, three. A vein in his neck throbbed. “No, like I told you and like he told you, he was here with me.”

“When is the last time you saw Lorelei Mitchell here at the market?” Josie asked.

“Few days ago,” he answered instantly.

“Mr. Bryan, could you tell us yours and Paxton’s blood types?” Noah asked.

His face reddened. One hand fisted at his side. “What in the hell do you need to know that for?”

Josie said, “It’s for our investigation.”

“Bullshit. I ain’t gotta tell you that kind of stuff. That’s medical. It’s private.”

“How about your shoe sizes?” Josie pressed.

Color rose in his cheeks. “I ain’t tellin’ you nothing private. Now get the hell out of here and leave me and my boy alone.”

Without missing a beat, Noah said, “Thank you for your time.” Calmly, he handed Reed a business card and told him to call if he thought of anything that might help the investigation. Josie suspected the card was going directly into the trash as soon as Reed got back inside.

They returned to the car. Reed stood outside the doors of the produce market, burly arms crossed over his chest, glaring as they pulled away.

Josie said, “Why wouldn’t he tell us their blood types or shoe sizes? If he hasn’t got something to hide?”

“Maybe he does. Unfortunately, I don’t think we can get a warrant for their blood types or shoe sizes since he and Pax alibi each other.”

Josie sighed. “You’re right. No judge will sign off on a warrant if they’ve both got alibis. We can have Hummel or Chan come over here and lift prints from something Pax has touched—maybe from the trash or something inside the market—to match up his prints to the scene.”

“He’s already admitted to being in the house, though,” Noah said. “You think he killed Lorelei and Holly?”

Josie took out her phone and fired off a text to Hummel. They didn’t need a warrant to pull prints from something that Pax had touched and then discarded. Someone from the ERT could hang around the market until he threw something away and then they could take it and get the prints. They didn’t even need to tell him. “I’m not ready to rule anything out yet,” she said. “I just know that if we can figure out which prints are Pax’s, and we already know which prints are Reed’s, then we’re down to two sets of unidentified prints at Lorelei’s house instead of four.”

“True,” Noah said. “I’m not sure about the kid, but the dad seems to have a lot of pent-up anger. You think he was mad enough with Lorelei interfering with his son to kill her?”

“I don’t know, but his son sure is terrified of him.”

Sixteen

With the paperwork Josie had printed out under her arm, she strode into Griffin Hall in search of Celeste Harper. Noah jogged to keep up with her. Celeste was dressed in a skirt suit, her hair pulled up in a French twist. Heavy make-up covered her pallor but not the bags beneath her eyes. She smiled wanly as Josie approached, but the corners of her mouth turned down when Josie slid one of the documents across the counter toward her. Tom, who had been standing behind her, tapping away on his iPad, leaned forward to pick up the document. Celeste grasped his forearm, stopping him from touching the pages. “Not here, Tom,” she said.

His brows shot up in surprise, but he withdrew his hand, keeping his eyes glued to her face. Several emotions flashed across his own face: confusion, irritation, anxiety. Clearly, he was used to taking charge and giving orders, even though Celeste was his boss.

He continued to stare at her, not moving a muscle. Celeste kept her eyes on Josie, drew herself up straight, cleared her throat, and said, “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer to discuss this matter at our private residence.”

“Lead the way,” said Josie.

They walked single file with Celeste in the lead, then Tom, and Josie and Noah bringing up the rear. Celeste was surprisingly agile on her six-inch heels, even in the grassy areas. The private residence she shared with her husband, which was the original stone Harper house, was a fifteen-minute walk from Griffin Hall. There was a wide path for resort cars to travel back and forth. Josie knew that Celeste could have had Tom or any member of the staff retrieve one for them to drive to the residence, but she chose to make them walk. The house was surrounded by forest on three sides, but from the front door, they were able to see all of the other buildings that comprised Harper’s Peak. Josie imagined Celeste’s father, Griffin Harper, standing here and surveying his little empire. Celeste likely did the same each morning as she emerged to go to work. Inside, it looked like little had changed since the house was originally built. Everything was rustic wood and antique furniture. Fresh flowers sat on a round white oak table in the center of the foyer.

Celeste held an arm out to the right, indicating a parlor. Inside, two large gray upholstered Chesterfield sofas faced one another, a large oval cherry coffee table between them. Adam sat on one of the couches, a mug of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. As Josie, Noah, and Tom