Page 58 of Tell Me (Savannah 3)

Niall looked about to say something, then set his oldest son onto the ground. “Better go inside, Rock. Run along. I’ll be right there.”

Dragging his feet all the way, Rocky climbed the steps and disappeared into the house. The second the door shut behind them, Calvin turned on his son. “I don’t know what you’re thinkin’.” He was so angry his lips moved over clenched teeth. “It’s bad enough that because of you your mama will get out of prison. Is that what you want?” He was nearly spitting. “She killed Amity, you know. Put a bullet in her and then fired at you and your sister. Blythe’s still in a wheelchair, and look at you, you can barely speak, your throat all messed up.”

“I can’t lie anymore, Dad, I don’t remember what happened, and Jesus said—”

“Do not be quotin’ the Bible to me, son. Do not!” Calvin slammed his shovel into the grass near the steps and said, “I’ve heard enough.” Then as he walked up the stairs, he pointed a gnarled finger at his wife. “This is all yer doin’, y’know. The whole God thing and takin’ it to extremes.”

“Calvin, you believe! You have faith!” June was aghast at her husband’s display.

“Sometimes it’s sorely tested!”

“Then you need to speak to the reverend.”

“I don’t need to talk to yer brother. I know what’s right and what’s wrong, and that murderin’ whore out of prison, that’s just wrong.” He spat a stream of tobacco juice off the porch that arched to the ground near his shovel. “Ain’t two ways about it!”

He disappeared into the house, and June was right on his heels. “Calvin! Your boots!” she was yelling as the door slammed behind her.

Pushing his hair out of his eyes, Niall stared at the empty porch. It seemed as if he might be having second thoughts, so Nikki said quickly, “This won’t take long, I promise. We can talk in my car, if you like. Just tell me what you remember about that night.”

He hesitated. “I don’t know if I should.”

“We all want the same thing, Niall. And that’s the truth.”

“I already talked to the police.”

“I know.”

“My attorney won’t like it.”

“That’s his job.”

Frowning, obviously wrestling with his decision, he let out a long sigh. “It’s pretty simple. I just

don’t remember much about that night other than it was dark, and there were gunshots and a lot of screaming.”

“Did you see anyone else in the cabin, other than your mother?”

He stared at her long and hard as the sky darkened with a coming storm. “That’s just it, the reason I’m doing this. I don’t know what I remember, but I do know that I felt pushed into saying my mother shot us.”

“Pushed?”

“By the cops. Flint Beauregard. It was like he was on a mission. I had the feeling he would have done anything to see that my mother was convicted, and my testimony was the surest way that would happen.”

“What about Leah Hatchett?” Nikki asked, remembering what Blythe had said.

“My stepsister? What about her?”

“She was your nurse.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Kinda.”

“But later, when you were older, you two were . . . more than friends.”

“What! God, no!” His face showed pure disgust, and yet his eyes shadowed a bit. “Who told you that lie? Oh, it was Blythe, of course. That little—!” He cut off the rest of what he was going to say as his right fist curled in anger.

“It wasn’t true?”

“Hell, no!” His face had turned red with ire. “That’s all I’ve got to say!”

---