“My mother loved the ocean,” Isla said when Cate complimented her name. “I was lucky to get the halfway normal name. My sisters are Aqua and Mer.”
Isla parked in front of a ranch-style home, and Cate was surprised to see a few cows and other animals in a small fenced pasture adjacent to the house. It felt like a residential neighborhood, even though the lots were large and spread out. “Is that a llama?” asked Isla, shifting in her seat to see past Cate. The animal had stopped grazing and lifted its head to look at them. It had an incredibly long neck.
“I think it’s an alpaca. It’s got a little puffy head.”
They got out of the car, and several of the animals approached them at the fence. The women scratched a few ears and then walked up the driveway to the home, the animals following parallel behind their fence.
Seven years ago, Greg Ledford had told Cate that he’d never tell her where Rich Causey had gone because Rich had every right to do as he pleased with his own daughter. Cate had gotten into a verbal spat with the man over the child’s need for medical care. She could still see Greg rolling his eyes and waving off her concerns. Greg had claimed Kori was overreacting. Children got sick. They got over it.
Cate hoped he knew what had happened to Jade and had trouble sleeping at night.
According to Isla’s research, Greg Ledford was single and rented the home. He worked in home construction: the same job—but different employer—he’d had when Cate interviewed him seven years ago. Construction was where Greg had originally met Rich. They’d become fast friends. Both enjoyed dirt biking and bowhunting.
The front door of the home opened and Greg stepped out, his arms crossed on his chest. Cate’s stomach turned over. She always felt uneasy when she left Widow’s, and the tension of seeing Greg Ledford again wasn’t helping. He’d been unhappy to hear from the FBI but had agreed to give them a few minutes of his time after a buttering-up call from Isla. Isla had told Cate she sometimes “slipped” into a faint southern accent—her mother had been from Georgia—and had found she got better cooperation on phone calls when she used it.
Clearly it had worked with Greg.
Greg looked exactly the same to Cate. He was short and wiry with black hair and a goatee. He wore a tank top that had armholes cut so far down the sides Cate could see all his ribs.
“Mr. Ledford,” Isla started. “I’m Special Agent Ross, and I think you already know Special Agent Wilde.”
Cate and her ex-boss had had a long discussion about how Cate was to be introduced. Phillip had won, making Cate agree to use her old title.
“You’re still hounding Rich,” Greg stated, his gaze hidden behind dark wraparound sunglasses. Stubbornness rolled off him in waves.
“Have you heard from him?” Cate asked politely.
“Nah.”
There was a long moment of silence. The morning sun was hot on the back of Cate’s blazer. She hadn’t worn “work clothes” in a long time. She didn’t remember the jacket feeling so constraining and itchy against the back of her neck.
“Can you blame him?” asked Greg. “His wife sicced the cops on him.” He shook his head in disgust. “She was nuts. Who does that to their husband?”
Someone in fear for their daughter’s life.
Cate bit her tongue.
A woman appeared behind him. She wore the same style tank top as Greg but with a tube top underneath. She had out-of-control frizzy blonde curls and looked to be barely in her twenties. She eyed the two agents’ slacks and blazers with suspicion. “You church people?”
Isla whipped out her ID. “No. We’re asking Greg about a friend of his that may have murdered his daughter.”
Shock crossed the woman’s face.