Page 179 of Buried Too Deep

“I’m going to gag,” Val said. “And I did not need to know about the wearing pearls to bed. Call Antoine and see what he’s dug up. I tried and he didn’t take my call.”

Phin did, putting his cell phone on speaker. “It’s Phin,” he said when Antoine answered.

“I know,” Antoine said dryly. “Caller ID. I wouldn’t have answered for Val, so this is your lucky day.”

“Mean!” Val called.

“You know you love me,” Antoine said. “So you want to know what I’ve found, right?”

“Yes, please,” Cora said.

“Tell Val she should say please, too, and I’ll take her calls.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Val said.

“Actually, I would, but I was working on something else when she called. I didn’t get a text telling me to answer the damn phone, so I didn’t. I still don’t have a lot on the Caulfields. Husband is Timothy, he’s seventy-five years old. Wife is Beatrice, she’s sixty-eight. Daughter is Ashley, she’s twenty-three. No parking tickets, no felonies. No record of any kind. They’ve been married for thirty years, the same length of time they’ve owned their home. He’s a retired electrician, and she’s a seamstress. Ashley graduated from Merrydale High five years ago. Timothy graduated from the same high school fifty-seven years ago. That’s all that I know.”

“That’s not much,” Val said. “What were you working on when I called before?”

Antoine sighed. “I asked my brother André about any thirteen-year-old boys who were reported as victims of molestation, trying to get at who Reverend Beauchamp was talking about. André went through all the reports of sexual assault on children in the New Orleans area. He even went back five years, in case the parents reported it a while back. None mentioned pictures. Not one. And none were members of Beauchamp’s church in Metairie.”

Phin frowned. “I don’t understand. Are you saying the reverend made a mistake?”

“Or lied,” Antoine said. “Either way, there isn’t a case that matches what the reverend told you all last night. I was trying to locate the family so that we could find out if Medford Hughes really was the perpetrator.”

“Why did you check that out?” Cora asked.

“Well,” Antoine said kindly, “partly for you, Cora. I wanted to let you know for sure either way if Medford was guilty, because I knew you were wondering if Patrick was, too. I can’t definitively say that either man is innocent, but I can tell you that Medford wasn’t using his home Wi-Fi system to either browse or download child porn on the dark web. That was a good idea, by the way, Phin. I was able to get into Medford’s Wi-Fi records. He might have been searching elsewhere or using a VPN to hide his movements, but it wasn’t happening from his home router. When I found that out, I called André. I figured he could tell me that there really was evidence of abuse, but he said there wasn’t.”

Phin thought about the reverend and his dramatic delivery. “Let’s assume for a minute that Beauchamp lied. Why would he?”

“Good question,” Antoine said. “I’ll be pissed if he did lie, because I’ve just spent hours of my time chasing facts that don’t exist.”

Which could have been the reason for the lie. To distract them and make them waste their time on a wild-goose chase.

“Let’s pay him another visit when we’re done here,” Val said. “Maybe he’ll be willing to say more in front of people who aren’t part of his church. He’d worry about his reputation as a secret-keeper if he told one of his church members. We’re almost to the Caulfields’ house, Antoine. We’ll call you back once we’ve talked to them.”

They turned onto the Caulfields’ road and reached their driveway just in time.

“Phin,” Cora hissed. “What are they doing?”

“Leaving,” Phin said, because the Caulfields had loaded up both of their cars, boxes filling the back seats and luggage piled on the roofs.

It appeared that they were leaving for a very long time.

Val pulled into their driveway, slanting the SUV so that it blocked the Caulfields’ exit. Stone pulled his minivan in behind them, further blocking the driveway.

Two older people ran from the house, a man and a woman. Timothy and Beatrice Caulfield. A young woman sat on a front-porch swing, a collie at her feet. She was frowning in confusion, clutching a large stuffed bear that had seen far better days.

Timothy had a shotgun in his hands, and both husband and wife looked like they were about to pass out from fright.

“Okay,” Val said quietly. “This is not what I expected.”

“They knew we were coming,” Phin said. “Why else would they run?”

“I think I’ll ask them,” Cora said and then, to Phin’s horror, she got out of the SUV before he could stop her.

“Fuck,” Val whispered. “Phin, go stand behind her. Don’t look threatening. I’m calling Burke. He can’t be far behind us.”

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