Part 13 (1/2)
Augusta patted her hand. ”h.e.l.lo, Joy. I'm your grandmother. Call me Augusta like Haley does.”
The two inspected one another. Joy wasn't usually so tongue-tied, and Tank knew two encounters in one day had thrown her. ”There are some questions Haley forgot to ask you. Do you have a few minutes?”
Fear flashed over Joy's face. ”I don't think Craig will let me go with you. He was mad when he got home and found out Alice allowed me to leave with you.”
Her hand touched the mark on her arm. It was a bruise, Tank saw, his anger ramping up immediately. ”Let me handle it,” he told her. He stepped past her to the door and pounded on it with all his might. The door shook, and the windowpanes rattled from the force of his fist.
The gruff voice down the hall swore viciously. Feet pounded on the wooden floor inside, and a big man punched open the screen door and stepped outside. His head thrust forward aggressively, and his hazel eyes narrowed-he looked ready to take on all comers. ”What do you want?” Tank's size didn't seem to deter his belligerent stance.
”These ladies are Joy's family. We're taking her out for dinner.”
”No, you aren't. She has ch.o.r.es to do. She spent all afternoon gallivanting around town.”
”You put that bruise on her arm?” Tank jabbed his thumb in Joy's direction. The women gasped, and he saw them dart quick looks at Joy's arm.
”She fell,” Craig said quickly. His eyes darted from Tank's face to Joy, then back again.
”I don't believe it. You touch her again, and you'll answer to me. You got that?” Tank was nearly yelling.
He wheeled and took Joy's arm gently. ”I'll have her back by nine.” Haley and Augusta scurried ahead of him.
Joy came without resistance. ”He'll make me pay for that,” she said. ”I know you were trying to help, but next time . . .” She bit her lip.
”There won't be a next time. You're not going back there,” Haley said. Her color was high, and she swung along the rough streets on her crutches with a scowl that said she'd like to stomp Craig under her boots.
”Hold up.” Tank stopped. ”If that's your intention, we need to do this legally.” He turned to Joy. ”Did Craig put that bruise on your arm?”
She nodded. ”Next time he'll make sure he puts them where people can't see.”
”Will you tell Trooper Gillespie that?”
Joy hesitated and looked at the other women. ”What am I going to do? Where will I live?”
”With me,” Augusta said staunchly.
Joy's eyes lit up. ”You're moving here?”
”I live in Phoenix. You'll love it there.”
Joy's smile faded. ”I love it here. It's my home.”
”We'll figure something out,” Tank said. ”For now, let's get this doc.u.mented.” He took her to see Chet, who listened to the stories of abuse. Haley snapped pictures of Joy's bruises, including some on her legs that her jeans had hidden. Her back had scars from beatings with a belt.
”What about the other children?” Haley asked.
”He never touches them. Only me. I think he resents the money he has to spend on me. They expected a boatload of money from my dad, and it's all been tied up in the estate. Once it comes through, I thought it would get better.”
”I'll send a trooper to get your things,” Chet said, his mouth in a grim line. ”And I'm also going to ask the judge to do a home study to make sure the other children are not in danger.”
”I kind of hate to leave them when they need me to watch the kids,” Joy said. ”The little ones are sweet.”
Tank told Chet where to find them, and the group walked back toward the cafe. Joy was subdued, and he knew she wondered what would happen to her. She would be a polar bear in the desert if they tried to transplant her. Maybe she could live with him and Libby. Libby would like the company, and Brooke adored Joy.
Haley paused by the park. ”Let's talk before we meet up with Libby and Brooke. I don't think Brooke should hear the questions I have.” The women sat on the bench together while Tank leaned his back against a fence post.
”We talked with Fannie,” Haley said. ”She said you don't think the fire was an accident.”
Joy's eyes widened; then she ducked her head and shook it. ”I think they were killed, but no one believes me.”
”Who did you tell?” Tank asked.
”Fannie believes you,” Augusta said.
”No one who can do anything about it,” Joy amended.
”I told Chet, but he said there was no evidence of anything weird.” She splayed her fingers on her jeans.
”What makes you think it wasn't an accident?” Tank was beginning to wonder if Joy was just stubbornly refusing to face facts.
”See, you don't believe me either.”
”Give me some facts, and maybe I will.”
”I don't have any facts!” Joy rubbed her forehead. ”I walked in on Ned Bundle one day at the dig. He shoved a crate out of the way when he saw me. Later, I went back and looked at it. It was full of artifacts. I told Maggie, and she started wondering if he was stealing them and selling them. She'd noticed several things missing. She told him she was going to tell Dad about it.” She hesitated. ”I think she didn't want to tell Dad about Ned. Dad liked Ned. He was always saying he'd never had a friend like him before. I think Mom didn't want to wreck that if she didn't have to.”
Tank tried to think it through. ”When was this?”
Joy bit her lip. ”Two days before the fire.” Her chin jutted out. ”I think he didn't want to be found out, so he killed them.”
”I could talk to him,” Tank said. ”If I can get some kind of proof, maybe Chet could have the bodies exhumed and autopsied. Or he might not have killed them. He may have just set fire to the cabin and the smoke got them.”
”Fannie said there wasn't much to autopsy.” Augusta's voice was low.
”There wasn't, but if they're looking at murder, they might find something.”
Joy examined her short, stubby nails, decorated with chipped pink nail polish. ”There's something else. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't think you'd believe me.”
Her voice quavered, and Tank focused on her tense and fearful face. ”What is it?”
”Ned saw me looking at the crate.” Joy's gaze came up to meet Tank's. ”He said for me to keep my nose out of his business or I might end up in the lake.”
Tank's arms came up in a defensive posture across his chest. ”Like Leigh,” he said. ”Could he have had something to do with Leigh's death?”
Joy wet her lips. ”I caught him watching her through binoculars once. He said she was hot.”
Tank exhaled sharply. ”I'll talk to him.” He didn't know what to make of Joy's story. Could she have an overactive imagination? She seemed so mature and levelheaded for her age. He thought of the pills. Could someone have forced Leigh to take them? His mind didn't want to go there.