Page 108 of Tell Me (Savannah 3)

There, on the computer screen, big as life, was a naked and sweating Roland Camp.

“I knew you’d show up again,” Flora Beauregard said quietly. As before, her jeans were too tight, her hair a perfect cap of soft waves. “I just didn’t know it would be so soon.” Through the screen, with only the porch lamp for illumination, she looked defeated, as if she’d done some serious soul-searching since Morrisette’s last visit.

“There’s not a lot of time. Blondell O’Henry is about to be released. If you won’t tell me the truth, I’m pretty sure she will, and I thought you might want to unburden yourself first.” It was a ploy, but Morrisette pushed it a little. “I know there’s more to the story, and I’m willing to bet you know it.”

As if she held the weight of the world on her shoulders, Flora unlatched the door. “I don’t know if it matters anyway,” she said wearily. “From what Deacon tells me, it’s a done deal, but come in. I suppose it’s time to tell the truth. Flint is long gone, the boys are men now, able to fight their own battles, and I don’t really care any longer anyway.” She looked at Morrisette with sad, defeated eyes, then led her back to her living room, with its pictures of her family proudly displayed on the mantel, attended by Jesus and the antique rifle.

Flora dropped into her chair. “All right,” she admitted, “It’s true. Amity O’Henry was Flint’s daughter. He and that woman had an affair. It was short-lived; she was little more than a girl and ended up pregnant.” Flora’s lips tightened at the memory. “We were going through a rough patch in our marriage, the boys young, not enough money, me dealing with my father’s failing health, and we just drifted apart for a while, though, of course, I didn’t know that he’d . . .” She squeezed her eyes so tight that her whole face crinkled, and she looked suddenly ten years older. “It was a nightmare. Lord knows he was at fault, being as she was so young, but that woman was sly and calculating, demanded money.”

“Child support?”

Absently Flora picked up her knitting needles. “Oh, no, Detective, this was blood money.”

“She blackmailed him, that’s what you’re saying?”

r /> “Her boyfriend came back from the army, and he was in on it too. Though O’Henry formally and legally adopted Amity, Flint was always expected to pay. If he didn’t, she swore she’d cry rape.” The needles began clicking furiously. “And then, where would we have been? It all came to a head when Amity was killed. Flint was beside himself and blamed her . . . oh, well, he blamed himself too. So he pushed hard to have her put away, and she didn’t dare tell the truth, not with her life in the balance. He promised to push for life rather than the death penalty.”

“There was no deal,” Morrisette said.

“Of course not. That entire trial was a sham.” Her mouth twisted at the irony of it all. “And then she ends up getting involved with her lawyer.”

Click, click, click.

“I’m pretty sure nothing about the State of Georgia vs. Blondell Henry was legal, but everyone just played their part,” Flora continued.

“So Blondell did shoot her kids?” Morrisette asked.

“Of course she did, Detective. But the prosecution just couldn’t prove it, not without that little boy’s testimony.”

Click. Click. Click.

“But it doesn’t really matter anymore now, does it? Amity’s gone. Her baby, Flint’s grandchild, gone too.” Flora’s lips quivered.

“Amity’s baby,” Morrisette said. “Do you know who the father was?”

She shook her head. “But it wasn’t Holt’s. Flint made sure of that. When he found out Holt was dating her, I thought he’d wring Holt’s neck.”

“You’re positive?”

Her needles stopped for a second, and her lips twisted in distaste. “Yes, ma’am. And now that woman is going to be set free, her crimes suddenly erased.”

Click. Click. Click.

“What a banner day for all of Georgia,” Flora Beauregard declared, holding back a flood tide of emotion Morrisette guessed was just about to burst through.

CHAPTER 30

Now that Nikki knew what Effie was up to, it was time to leave. She’d love to confront her right then and there, but obviously Effie was out for the evening.

Convenient, Nikki thought, as she scooted the desk chair back. She was about to exit out of Effie’s desktop when she spied the online calendar on Effie’s monitor.

Could she get so lucky?

With a click, she was on a page for November, and, sure enough, work info and appointments from doctors to hairdressers were listed on the virtual page. On today’s date, she had a note: meet at cabin.

Cabin? Meet who?

No note.

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