Page 33 of Ambush

“It’s all in the steeping and the simple syrup.” Bea settled on the sofa across from them. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“For years I didn’t remember much about the murder of my parents, but I-I’m starting to have dreams about it. I’d like to know what you remember of that time.”

Bea sipped her tea and didn’t answer for a long moment. “What good will it do, little Paradise? You can’t bring them back.”

“Their killer was never found,” Blake said. “Justice has never been served.”

“Justice is capricious. That’s what Gerald always said.”

Was there a reason Bea was dodging the question? “Did Gerald ever have a suspect in mind? It seems like someone murdered my parents and got clean away.”

“He wasn’t much of one to talk about cases, but I heard rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?” Blake asked.

Bea stared at them without expression before her shoulders sagged. “Guess it doesn’t matter now. I always wondered if Gerald did it.”

“Why would you suspect your husband?” Paradise asked.

“He was going to leave me for your mother,” she said flatly. “Your mama planned to get a divorce too. Then it all changed. He came home early the night of the murders, while I was still at work at the surveyor’s office. He seemed strange with a stiff expression and told me he’d decided he still loved me and didn’t want to leave me.”

“Were you suspicious?”

“Not then. I was just overjoyed to hear he still loved me. It was later, the next day, when I heard about the murders. I wondered—oh yes, I wondered. And when he begged me to give him an alibi if anyone asked where he was that afternoon, I wondered even more. But I didn’t want our two teenagers to have the stigma of a father in prison.”

Bea’s expression held no trace of guilt. “So I was prepared to lie. I didn’t have to though. Gerald was never under suspicion. I’m not the blabbing type, so I never even told my mother when Gerald first told me he was leaving. I never told a soul. And our marital problems never came out, and as far as I know, no hint of an affair was ever written in the case files.”

Paradise struggled to take it all in. “I remember my parents fighting a lot.”

“I’d guess your dad never knew. Men don’t tend to stay quiet about things like that. I have no idea why I’m telling you all this, other than to say maybe justice has been served. Gerald’s final days of liver cancer weren’t pleasant. He paid dearly for his sin.”

Could it really be that easy? Had the sheriff killed them? And if so, did Paradise need to prove it so she knew for sure?

***

The lions were getting closer. Paradise cowered in the closet with the scent of her mother’s perfume wafting around her. She used to love to hide in here and play with Mama’s shoes. Sliding them on her small feet made her feel as tall and elegant as her mother. And just as beautiful.

Another roar came, and she tried to make herself even smaller in the corner with the shoeboxes heaped like a fence around her. She smelled the lion’s hot breath right outside the door. Its teeth wouldclamp around her arm before he dragged her all the way into his mouth. There was nothing in here for her to use to defend herself—no way for a little girl to battle something that large.

Sheriff Davis laughed. “Get her, lion. Once she’s gone, everything is mine.”

Paradise shook her head. She didn’t like the sheriff. He came to see Mama and they made her go outside to play. She didn’t want him here.

All she could do was scream, “No, no!”

She opened her mouth and piercing screams erupted from her throat. They pealed out, one after another until she was hoarse from it. But the lion had her now, and she couldn’t escape.

“Paradise.” A warm hand touched her arm. “You’re okay, babe. It’s Blake.”

She blinked and realized she was in the garage loft apartment. Moonlight streamed through the window and gilded Blake’s strong jaw and cheekbones with a glimmer of gold. “B-Blake? Where’s the lion?”

He raised her to a seated position and sat on the edge of the bed before he pulled her against his chest. “There’s no lion. You’re safe.”

Her heart still tried to pound out of her chest, and she couldsmellthe lion’s acrid odor. It had to be in here. “It’s here somewhere,” she whispered. “Don’t you smell it?”

“My jacket might smell like lion. I wear it into the predator enclosures. There’s nothing here, babe. Just you and me. You had a nightmare.”

Her tongue dried in her mouth, and her throat constricted. A nightmare? It was only a nightmare? She turned her face into the soft material of his tee and put her arms around him. His pulse under her ear accelerated and his embrace tightened. Sheburrowed closer, not wanting to face the fear again. His hand smoothed her hair and she closed her eyes at the blissful sensation of such a tender caress.

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