Not One of Us(29)

Blackwell tapped at the photo. “Why do you think you were sent this message?”

“I’m not sure.”

She stared at me, waiting for me to start talking. I’d requested a private meeting, after all.

“Where’s your partner?” I asked. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Lieutenant Oliver is my boss, not my partner. We’re only working together on the Strickland case. He’s out interviewing this morning, but he should be back shortly if you need to speak to us both together.”

“No. That’s okay. I’d rather speak to you alone.” I found her less intimidating than the older man.

“Tell me, Ms. Trahern, do you think this threat is related to the Strickland murder?”

I blinked in surprise. “No.”

A brow rose. “A mighty big coincidence, then. And I, for one, don’t happen to believe in coincidences. Is there something you haven’t told us about your conversation with the victim? Do you know anything that would help solve this case? If you do, speak up now.”

Her voice had taken on a hard edge, and her eyes sharpened on me. Had I thought her less intimidating than Oliver? Now I wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know anything about it,” I protested. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dana warned me it was stupid to go talk to Ray. I wish I never had.”

“You must have some idea why an intruder targeted you and your private belongings. The threat he left was very specific.”

“I think this is about my cousin,” I said with reluctance. “Not Raymond Strickland.”

Blackwell stiffened, then leaned back in her chair. “Jackson Ensley?”

“Right.” Something about the faint tinge of dislike as she spoke his name made me wonder if she might have known Jackson. He would have been about her age, had he lived. “Hey, did you know my cousin?”

Was it my imagination, or was there a slight hesitation before she answered? “We were in the same grade at Enigma High.”

“What was he like?”

“He had a reputation.” White lines etched the contour of her pursed lips. Like everyone else in town who knew him, Blackwell was clearly not a fan.

“Yeah, I’ve always heard he was a bit wild.”

“Wild is one way to put it,” she said crisply. “Explain why you think there’s a connection between this threat and Ensley.”

“Because this happened the day after I went to Mobile to speak with his biological mother.”

“I didn’t realize he was adopted. Why did you go see her?”

“Because it’s weird. Mimi and the rest of my family are so closemouthed about him. I didn’t even know he was adopted until Mimi let it slip yesterday.” I drummed my fingers against the battered table, trying to explain my compulsion to dig into his past. “I’ve heard the rumors about him. That he used and dealt drugs, that he’d had a few minor scrapes with the law and was generally not a . . . not a nice person. Nobody ever has anything good to say about the guy. And with his former best friend also being found dead with a bullet to the back of his head, hours after talking to me, well, I just . . .” I cleared my throat. “I got curious.”

“And you think this visit with his mother got someone upset.”

“What else could it be?”

Blackwell folded her arms and tapped an index finger against her mouth. “Did she tell you anything that bears a relation to these two murders?”

“I don’t know if it has any bearing, but Grace claimed she was paid ten thousand dollars for her baby.”

Blackwell let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of money, especially way back in 1975. Who paid her?”

“Says she doesn’t remember the details of the private adoption, and I believe her. Grace was a drug addict who took the money way back when and ran with it. For all it’s worth, she’s recently got her life back together and is remorseful.”

Blackwell slowly nodded. “I’ll check into that with my contact at Family Social Services. Private or not, the adoption had to have been registered. It’s illegal, of course, to pay for a child. But the adoptive parents can provide money for maternity expenses.”

I frowned. “That wasn’t the impression I got from her. I asked if she had any adoption records, but she didn’t.”

“Illegal or not, it’s a stretch to say that the matter might be related to either murder.”

“It’s the only dredging up of the past that I’ve been up to,” I pointed out. My stomach flipped as I pushed on with my next theory. “Other than mentioning to Dana and a few family members what I told you when Ray’s body was discovered.” At her blank face, I pushed on. “That Ray brought up folks had a way of disappearing in the bayou. Like the Cormiers.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she assured me. “I’m reviewing the old Cormier files. Seems you were also the last person to see Deacon Cormier alive.” She paused a moment, eyeballing me curiously. “You were the last to see Raymond Strickland and Deacon Cormier alive.”

Blood pounded in my ears, and my heartbeat pulsed madly. I hadn’t made that uncanny connection. Silence stretched between us, drumming a loud pulse of swirling vermilion and gunmetal tension in the cramped room. “Wh-what are you implying?” I managed to croak.