A Beautiful Corpse. Christi Daugherty
glanced at her.
‘Wilson – he got in trouble when he was a teenager. Got messed up with a gang back in Atlanta. Got caught dealing drugs. For a while, he was on the wrong path. By the time she met him, he’d cleaned himself up. Made up his mind to walk a true road. Came to Savannah to get away from that life. Wasn’t going to look back.’
His brow lowered as he tried to explain. ‘Kids like Wilson, they usually don’t find their way. He did, though. When Naomi met him, she knew he was intelligent. His grades were good – she helped him stay focused. In the end, she talked him into applying to law school at the same time she did.’
He gave a faint, wistful smile. ‘Tell you one thing, once that girl set her mind to something, nobody had a chance. Wilson knew better than to argue. They both got in, like she knew they would. Around then, that’s when they decided they were in love. After that, you couldn’t get a cigarette paper between them. They were always together.’
‘Did they fight?’ Harper suggested. ‘Get mad at each other about things?’
‘Every couple argues,’ he said. ‘But they never had a fight like you’re talking about. He never raised a hand against her. She’d never put up with that. Neither would I.’
‘Are you sure?’ Harper’s tone was skeptical. ‘We don’t tell our dads everything about our relationships.’
His held her gaze steadily.
‘Miss McClain, my wife died of breast cancer when Naomi was ten years old. She and me, we’ve always been close. We had to be. Closer than most fathers and daughters. The first time she got her period? She came to me. I took her to the drug store, got the things she needed. She got her first boyfriend? She talked to me about him. I made sure she knew the facts of life. When she met Wilson, she told me, “Daddy, I think I’m going to marry this man. His heart’s big enough for me.”’
His voice trembled, and he paused for a moment. When he looked up again, his face was shadowed.
‘If he ever hurt her, she’d have told me.’
So much about Naomi’s story sounded familiar. Harper knew what it was like to grow up without a mother. Only in her case, it hadn’t made her closer to her father. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Her father had been a suspect in her mother’s murder in the early days of the investigation. He was cleared of suspicion by the young paralegal in whose bed he’d been lingering while someone stabbed his wife to death in their kitchen.
Harper had never forgiven him.
She wondered what it was like to be so close to your father that you would confide everything to him. And she simply wasn’t convinced Naomi had been so open with her dad. It was clear that she had secrets.
‘Wilson often went to The Library to meet Naomi when she worked late,’ she said. ‘But in the last few weeks he hadn’t been there. Were they having some trouble?’
Scott’s brow lowered. ‘Who told you he wasn’t there?’
‘Bonnie,’ Harper said.
‘I don’t know about that.’ He rubbed a hand on his jaw. ‘She was so busy. Working and studying. But I’m sure they were fine.’
‘She didn’t say anything to you?’
He shook his head. ‘No. And if it was bad, I think she would have told me something.’
But, for the first time, he sounded uncertain.
There it was. Naomi’s secrets. Kept even from him.
‘Mr Scott,’ Harper leaned forward, ‘isn’t it possible they had a fight and Naomi didn’t tell you because she didn’t want to upset you? And someone like Wilson, with his background, maybe his temper snapped –’
He didn’t let her finish. ‘Ms McClain, I know what you’re thinking but if you keep looking at Wilson you’ll be looking at the wrong man, just like the police are.’ His voice trembled with frustration. ‘You need to find the other man. The one who scared her.’
Harper sighed.
‘Fine. Tell me about the man.’
He hesitated. ‘Now, you’re going to think I’m a liar because I told you she told me everything. But with this man, all she said was she wanted him out of her life. Told me he wasn’t a good person and that if I ever saw him I should walk away without even talking to him.’
This was exactly what Harper had feared. He wanted the murderer not to be Shepherd, so he was looking for anyone else to blame. Even some random guy his daughter didn’t like.
‘Do you have a name?’ she asked, trying not to sound as doubtful as she felt. ‘If you give it to me, I’ll see what I can find out.’
‘His name is Peyton Anderson,’ Scott told her. ‘His family’s big in this town. Maybe you heard of them …’
But Harper was no longer listening – she stared at him in stunned disbelief.
‘Do you mean Peyton Anderson as in the son of the district attorney?’ she asked, cutting him off.
‘That’s him.’ Scott nodded. ‘He’s the one Naomi was scared of.’
Harper couldn’t think of anything to say.
Randall Anderson had been District Attorney for twelve years before stepping down a year ago to join a private practice.
His family was part of the city’s old guard – with a patrician legacy and a palatial mansion near Forsyth Park. The Andersons were everywhere in Savannah – they were part of every major organization that ran the city.
The idea that his son could have somehow threatened Naomi Scott seemed bizarre.
‘You don’t know what happened between them?’ she asked, after a long pause.
He shook his head. ‘All I know is they were in law school together, they sometimes studied together in her first year. Then, something happened – he did something, I think – and after that she tried to avoid him. I know she complained to the school.’
Harper kept nodding politely but she could see exactly what was happening here. Scott was grasping at straws. He wanted the facts to change. He wanted Wilson to be the good boyfriend who loved his daughter. And he wanted a man he’d never met to be the killer.
Neither she, nor the police, could give him that.
‘Well,’ she said, closing her notebook, ‘I think I’ve got all I need. There’s plenty here for me to work with.’ She stood up. ‘I can’t thank you enough for coming in to talk to me about all this.’
He unfolded his long legs, and stood, a disappointed look in his eyes.
‘You think Wilson did it,’ he said sadly. ‘You’re going to tell people they have the right man.’
She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head.
‘It’s fine. The police didn’t believe me either.’ He pushed the chair carefully back into place. ‘I guess no one wants to believe.’
Not without evidence they don’t, Harper thought. But she couldn’t say that to him. He looked so defeated.
‘Tell you what,’ she said. ‘I’ll dig around a little. See what I can find out. Just in case there’s anything there.’
Scott accepted this with quiet dignity.
‘Thing is, Miss McClain, whether you believe me or not, I know Wilson didn’t do this. And I intend to fight to see justice done. For my daughter’s sake.’
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