“Not yet,” Bree said.
“Then I’ll drive him to the station.” Stephanie jabbed a finger at Bree. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t file a harassment suit.”
“I’m not trying to harass anyone.” Bree shook her head. “I’m trying to solve your aunt’s murder.”
Stephanie narrowed her eyes. “And I’m protecting my family.”
Bree stepped back. “Then I’ll meet you at the station in twenty minutes.” She issued a few last instructions to her deputies, then left Todd in charge of completing the search and asked Matt to return to the station with her to assist with the interview.
A half hour later, she and Matt faced Bernard and Stephanie over the interview table. Bernard held a Styrofoam cup of coffee. Stephanie drank from a water bottle.
Bree read Bernard his Miranda rights, and he signed the acknowledgment without comment.
Bree pulled out her copy of the old family photo taken on the sailboat. “Who is this woman?”
“My wife.” Bernard’s face tightened with grief. “She died when the kids were teenagers.”
Bree felt a pang of pity as she tapped the boy’s image. “And who is this?”
Bernard’s eyes closed for a second. When he answered, his voice was barely audible. “My son.”
“Robby?” Bree kept her tone gentle. She felt bad for ripping open an old wound. But she also had a double murder to solve, and Bernard had lied to her.
He nodded.
“When I asked you how many children you had, you said two daughters.”
His eyes opened. Anger flashed. “You asked how many children I have.” He emphasized the tense. “My son is gone. I no longer have him—”
Stephanie interrupted. “Is it necessary to torment my father like this? Our family has endured tragedy. It’s taken us a long time to heal.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Bree understood grief as well as anyone. “What happened to your son?”
“He died by suicide.” Bernard paused, squeezing his eyes shut for just a second before reopening them. Misery shone from his gaze. “Shortly after we lost his mother to cancer. He was thirteen.”
“I’m sorry.” Bree sat back. She was no stranger to tragedy, and his sorrow resonated down to her soul.
“He went to bed one night, and I found him in the morning. I knew he’d been bullied. He stuttered. He’d had speech therapy, but his mother’s death aggravated it. I should have known he was that desperate.” Bernard’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if he were talking to himself. “I should have known.”
The devastation on his face hit Bree hard. A wave of grief swept over her. She pictured Luke and Kayla at their mother’s funeral. Sorrow strangled her until she couldn’t form words. How could her grief still be this fresh after eight months?
Never in her career had she been rendered speechless during an interview.
Until today.
Stephanie flattened a hand on the table. “Are you done now that you’ve brought up a very painful subject?”
Bree’s brain scrambled to recover its train of thought. She felt Matt’s gaze on her. Sweat broke out under her arms.
With a quick glance at her, Matt leaned forward and picked up the questioning thread. “Not quite. In our first interview, you said you hadn’t seen Camilla or Oscar since you went to the farm for her birthday a month ago. But Oscar was at your house just a few days before the murders occurred.” Matt didn’t explain how they knew.
Bernard didn’t ask. He simply admitted his error with a weak shrug. “I forgot.”
Bree didn’t buy that for one second. “You also stated the farm was worthless. Yet we know a developer recently made a lucrative offer for the property.” Bree was bluffing—she didn’t know if the offer had been good or not.
Bernard blinked away from her gaze. He stared at the wall to his left. “My son-in-law got himself mixed up in a Ponzi scheme. He’s lost everything, and unfortunately, he’s dragged my daughter down with him. My grandchildren are going to lose their home. Leonard will be lucky if he doesn’t go to prison. I ran through everything I had to keep them afloat and hire a decent attorney, but I don’t have anything left.” He swallowed, his eyes returning to Bree’s. “I asked my sister for money. She said no.”
“Did she have any money?” Bree had seen Camilla’s bank statements and already knew the answer was no.
Bernard folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Not in cash. But she could have mortgaged the farm or accepted the offer from the developer. I’ve already mortgaged my home and drained my savings.”