“I understand,” Shaye said. “There’s things in my past that I don’t like to think about. I promise I’m not here to upset her.”

Sissy studied her for several seconds. Something in Shaye’s expression must have convinced the housekeeper of her sincerity because she nodded. “Come with me.”

Shaye followed her down the hallway to the back of the house. At the end of the hallway, Sissy knocked lightly on a door, then opened it and stepped inside. “Mrs. Grange. There’s a lady here that needs to speak to you.”

Shaye stepped to Sissy’s side and got her first look at Abigail Grange, who sat in a rocking chair in front of a picture window. If someone had checked out of life, people often said they were a shadow of their former self. Abigail Grange didn’t even have enough substance to be a shadow. Her pale skin was almost translucent and hung on her tiny frame like fabric. She looked over at them, her gaze seeming to go right through them and into the hall.

“Will you speak to her?” Sissy asked.

Abigail nodded, and Sissy motioned Shaye toward the window.

Shaye walked over to where Abigail sat and took a seat in a chair a couple feet away, not wanting to stand over her while they were talking. “Mrs. Grange, my name is Shaye Archer. I’m a private investigator from New Orleans. There’s a man I’ve been trying to get information on who I think used to live in Hamet. He’s been using your son’s name.”

Abigail looked perplexed. “Why would someone do that?”

Shaye reminded herself that Abigail had been out of society for a long time, and thus far, Shaye had yet to see a television. It was possible Abigail had never heard the term “identity theft.”

“Sometimes,” Shaye said, “people pretend to be someone else because they don’t want anyone to know their true identity.”

“Why would that bother a person?”

“The most common reason is because they’re involved in criminal activity. They might be wanted for crimes under their real name, so they assume someone else’s identity in order to hide from the law.”

Abigail frowned. “And you think someone is using David’s name for such a thing? Has the man you’re looking for committed a crime?”

“The man in question is deceased, but he abused his wife. The question of his identity didn’t come up until after his death, and his wife would like to know who she was really married to.”

“Oh. I imagine that must be horrible for her.”

Abigail’s expression and voice were mildly sympathetic, but it was clear to Shaye that the woman wasn’t completely in the conversation. More like she was drifting on the outside of it.

“Can you tell me your son’s Social Security number, so I can verify if his identity is the one my client’s husband was using?”

Abigail looked up at Sissy. “My small box, Sissy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sissy said and retrieved a jewelry box from her nightstand.

Abigail opened the jewelry box and her eyes filled with tears. She lifted a photo and stroked it with her finger, then handed it to Shaye. “My son.”

Shaye took the photo and looked down at the smiling boy, holding up a large fish. He looked like his mother, or at least, like his mother would look if she had some weight and color to her and hadn’t aged beyond her years. “He’s beautiful,” Shaye said, a lump forming in her throat. How awful it had to be to lose a child. She couldn’t fathom losing someone she loved. In fact, it was something she deliberately avoided thinking about.

Abigail took the photo back and handed Shaye a Social Security card. Shaye checked the information she had stored in her phone, and her pulse ticked up a notch. It was a match to the employment records from Wellman Oil and Gas.

“Did you report your son’s passing to the Social Security Administration?” Shaye asked.

“I thought the doctor did that,” Abigail said.

Shaye looked over at Sissy, who shook her head. “Doc LaFleur is who she’s talking about, but he wasn’t no spring chicken and had his hands full just keeping people tended to. My guess is the paperwork never got filed.”

Shaye nodded. If the SSA was never notified of David’s passing, that explained how Emma’s husband was able to use his identity. If he was from the area, he might have guessed that the death had never been reported. She pulled up a picture of the man calling himself David Grange and turned the phone to face Abigail.

“Do you recognize this man?”

Abigail took one look at the phone and wailed. “No!” She threw her hands up in front of her face as if she were being attacked. Her entire body shook as she sobbed.

“Mina!” Sissy yelled and ran over to Abigail, trying to calm her down.

Shaye jumped up from her chair, feeling completely helpless as another woman rushed into the room and over to Abigail. The other woman pushed Sissy out of the way and grabbed Abigail’s arms, speaking to her in a low, level voice. Sissy grabbed Shaye’s arm and pulled her toward the door.

“You said you wouldn’t upset her,” Sissy said as she stomped down the hall.

Shaye practically jogged to keep up with the woman, still trying to process Abigail’s unexpected reaction. Before she’d had her outburst, Shaye wouldn’t have even thought her possible of such emotion. “I didn’t mean to upset her. I don’t even know why she’s upset.”

“What did you show her?”

Shaye held up her phone.

Sissy gasped and her hand flew over her mouth. She reached out and took the phone from Shaye, her hand shaking, and pulled it closer to her face. “Lord, Jesus. Is this the man? The man that stole David’s identity?”

“Yes. You know him?”

Sissy turned the phone away and pushed it back at Shaye. “I never thought I’d see that face again. It’s Jonathon Bourg. The last time I seen him he was no more than fifteen or sixteen, but I’d know that face anywhere.”

“Why does he upset you and Abigail?”

“Because he killed David.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jackson left the interrogation window and headed back to his desk, but couldn’t sit still. He ended up pacing the rows until Vincent yelled at him to sit down or go outside. He claimed Jackson was making him tired. Jackson figured he was probably telling the truth. The man was so inert, just watching someone else move probably exhausted him. He was just about to go outside and take a walk around the block when he heard Detective Reynolds take a call about Ron Duhon.

He lurked at the detective’s desk until he hung up the phone. “Was that a tip on Ron Duhon?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah.” Detective Reynolds grabbed his keys from his desk. “Is Murphy still taking the Frederick woman’s statement?”

Jackson nodded.

Reynolds looked at him for several seconds, clearly contemplating something, then looked over at Vincent. “Hey, can I borrow Lamotte for this check? Murphy’s tied up in interrogation.”

Vincent waved a hand in dismissal. “Please. Get him out of here.”

“Thanks,” Jackson said as they exited the building. “What’s the tip?”

“We circulated pictures of Ron this morning among our street contacts. One of them called in and said a maintenance worker saw Ron at the Midnight Moon motel. It will probably turn out to be nothing, but there’s always a chance the worker got it right.”

Jackson nodded. Chasing a long shot was better than stagnating at his desk.

###

Shaye struggled to maintain her cool, but was certain her expression was anything but composed. “But…the report said it was accidental.”

Sissy nodded. “I think you best come with me. I’m gonna need a shot of bourbon. Maybe two.”

Shaye followed Sissy down a side hallway and into a kitchen at the rear of the house. Like all the other rooms, this one was stuck in time as well. Sissy went straight for a locked cupboard on the far wall and removed a key from her pocket to unlock it. She pulled a bottle of bourbon out and placed it on the counter along with two glasses.