by Sharon Sala
“Damn him,” Fiona huffed. “We didn’t do anything.”
Nita shrugged. “With this family, we’re always guilty by association.” She paused a moment and then added, “That was one of Leigh’s sons, wasn’t it?”
“Most likely,” Fiona said.
“What did you think when you saw him there?” Nita asked.
Fiona shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe that he was curious.”
Nita shook her head.
“No, that wasn’t curiosity. He was standing like he was ready to fight, and then he raised his arms like he was about to be nailed to a cross. Damn it, he gave me the creeps. He might not have said anything, but he called us out again just like Leigh did. Those people don’t mess around. If you piss one of them off, you get the whole nest in a stir.”
Fiona stared at her sister like she’d suddenly grown horns.
“Piss them off? That’s hardly the way I would describe murder.”
Nita flushed. “Well, it wasn’t me,” she muttered.
“So you keep saying,” Fiona said, and headed up the stairs to her suite.
Nita stood in the foyer, eyeing the oh-so-familiar elegance, and shuddered. She had a feeling in her gut that this was all going to come undone.
Seven
Bowie drove home on autopilot.
He’d gone from elation at seeing Talia to unadulterated rage. He felt sick and completely helpless. His father was on a slab in the morgue, and no one had made a move to interview a single member of the guilty family.
He needed to talk to the county constable before he got home. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed. He pulled over long enough to Google the number, and as soon as his call was answered, he resumed driving.
“Constable’s office. How may I direct your call?”
“Constable Riordan, please. This is Bowie Youngblood.”
“One moment,” the operator said, and put him on hold.
While he was waiting for the constable to come on the line, the first raindrops hit the windshield, splattering on the dusty glass, then turning into a muddy trickle that reminded him of Talia’s tears. The wind picked up, whipping the tops of the trees and sending leaves flying into the air. He turned on the windshield wipers and tightened his grip on the wheel as Riordan’s voice came over the line.
“Bowie, I see you made it home.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What can I do for you?” Riordan asked.
Bowie wasn’t about to waste time on polite conversation.
“I guess what I need to know is, why hasn’t anyone interrogated the Wayne family?”
Riordan wasn’t going to tell him that Chief Clayton had called him, or that he’d already heard from the governor, warning him to tread lightly in the case. Even so, he had no intention of easing up on anything. He just had to be careful how he went about it.
“I wanted to gather every bit of information I could get from the autopsy and ballistic reports before I began, because we don’t really have a motive. And since there are obviously a number of possible suspects, I need to go in prepared. We had the coroner expedite the autopsy because of the delicacy of the situation.”
It was a slap in the face to the whole Youngblood family, and the anger in Bowie’s voice reflected that.
“There’s nothing delicate about my father’s murder. He gave you the name of the guilty family, and it is your damn job to find the motive. I object to the fact that special consideration is being taken just to protect the rich and powerful.”
“No, that’s not what—”
Bowie quickly interrupted. “Yes, it is. Give me the respect of admitting that much, because we both know the truth.”
Riordan sighed, and Bowie took that as a yes.
“When can our family get a copy of the autopsy?” Bowie asked.
“I don’t even have a copy myself, and giving out a victim’s information is—”
“Your ‘victim’ is my father. He belongs to our family, and everything pertaining to his murder is our business. If I get even a hint that there’s going to be a cover-up, I will take this story to every news outlet in the nation. The Waynes are big shots, and big shots in trouble are always good for ratings.”
Riordan’s stomach rolled.
“There’s no need to get defensive, Bowie.”
“You misunderstand me, Constable. This isn’t defense, it’s offense, and you’ll be in the spotlight right along with them. If you aren’t physically at the Wayne estate tomorrow, ready to interrogate every last one of them, autopsy or no autopsy, I won’t give you a second chance. I work for powerful people, too.”
“It is against the law to threaten the office of the constable of this county, and you don’t want—”
“I didn’t threaten you at all,” Bowie snapped. “I informed you of my intentions. It wasn’t a warning. I thought I was doing you a favor in giving you a heads-up. There will be representatives from our family watching to see if you show up there tomorrow. If you don’t, then we will assume other people besides you are running the show and act accordingly. I’ll be in touch,” Bowie said, and disconnected.
The rain was coming down so hard now that it sounded like hailstones against the cab. Bowie turned the windshield wipers on to the highest speed and put his phone in the console. That call had been as futile as his appearance at the Wayne estate. He’d accomplished nothing, but at least all parties involved now knew where the Youngblood family stood.
* * *
Riordan cursed beneath his breath. The call was nothing he hadn’t expected, but all it had done was increase the pressure on him. Still, Youngblood was right. If this had been any other case, he would have been talking to the guilty family the same day the body was discovered. Instead, they’d had plenty of time to prepare their statements and get everyone’s alibis straight. It had been an unforgivable move on his part, but it was too late to take it back.
“Damn it,” he muttered. He glanced at the clock and realized he’d missed lunch, but he’d lost his appetite. He was retiring at the end of the year. Why in hell couldn’t all this have happened after he was gone?
* * *
Bowie had his emotions under control by the time he arrived. Instead of parking in his usual place, he drove to the back of the house and up to the wide covered porch, parking right beside the steps.
His mother had obviously been watching for him, because she was wearing a waterproof poncho when she came out to help carry in the groceries.
“Stay on the porch, Mama. I’ll bring the sacks to you,” he said as he got out, then opened up the door to the backseat and began grabbing bags and handing them over.
Jesse came outside smiling and talking about the rain. Bowie handed a heavy sack off to him and sent him back inside with it. By the time they’d carried in the last of the groceries, Bowie was soaked to the skin, but he didn’t care. The rain was emotionally cleansing. He moved the truck away from the steps, then ran up onto the back porch and began stripping down to his briefs so he wouldn’t track water through the house.
Leigh came outside carrying a towel and a dry pair of pants.
“Your Aunt Polly is inside. I don’t want you to give her a heart attack parading yourself through the house.”
He grinned. “Thanks.”
She eyed the smile. “You talked to Talia.”
He nodded as he began toweling the rain from his body.
When he didn’t elaborate, Leigh poked a finger against his chest.
“And...?”
He paused.
“And it was good... We’re good.”
Talia’s eyes welled.
“Good for you, son. Life is too short to waste.” Then she went back inside, leaving him to dry off and get dressed.
He could hear the women talking in the living room as he walked in the back door. He slipped through the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom without them knowing he was there. By the time he got back to the front of the house, he’d plaited his wet hair into one long braid and was wearing clean, dry clothes. He needed to tell his mother what he’d found out, and talk to his brothers about being in Eden tomorrow morning to see if Constable Riordan showed.
He was walking into the living room when he glanced out the front window and saw a truck coming toward the house.
Leigh walked up behind him and put a hand on his back.
“It’s Samuel. He texted me he was coming.”
Bowie frowned. “It must be important to get him out in weather like this. Is something wrong?”
“He came to take Polly home. Your Uncle Carl twisted his ankle today and isn’t able to drive.”
“Oh, sorry about Uncle Carl, but I’m glad Samuel is here. I need to talk to the both of you before he leaves.”
Leigh rushed to open the front door as Samuel came running through the rain. He leaped up onto the porch, thankful to be out of the rain, and began taking off his rain gear, leaving it beside the door before going inside.
“Hi, Mama,” Samuel said, as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Hi, honey. Did you have any trouble getting here?”
“No. The roads were clear. Other than the heavy rain, it’s all okay.” Then he glanced at Bowie and saw his wet hair. “You’ve been out?”
“In town. We need to talk,” Bowie said.
“Come into the kitchen,” Leigh said. “Polly is making coffee and cutting a chocolate pie.”
They followed their mother into the kitchen and greeted their Aunt Polly with a hug.
“Can we help?” Bowie asked.
“I’ve got it,” Polly said. “You boys take a seat.”
They grinned at each other. For as long as the older generation lived, they were always going to be “the boys.”
Once the pie and coffee were served and everyone was at the table, Bowie began telling them what he’d learned, what he’d done, and why he and his brothers needed to be at the Wayne estate tomorrow morning.
Leigh was unusually silent, but Bowie could tell something was running through her mind.
“I suspect Uncle Jack is pulling in favors,” she finally said. “They’ll try to buy their way out of the whole thing.”
“It won’t matter,” Bowie said. “I’ve already warned Riordan that I’ll give the whole story to the press. Rich people in trouble are prime news.”
Leigh looked surprised, then nodded approvingly.
“Yes, that would stir things up,” she said. “Good move.”
“I wonder if they got anything from the ballistics report?” Samuel asked.
Bowie frowned. “What do you know about a ballistics report?”
“I found the shooter’s shell casing at the scene. One of the crime scene investigators took it into evidence.”
“Could you tell what caliber the gun was?” Bowie asked.
“It was a rifle,” Leigh said. “I heard it. Nothing else sounds like a rifle shot.”
Samuel frowned. “Looked like a 30-30 casing to me.”
“If we knew that for sure, Michael could put his hacker skills to good use and see if any weapons of that caliber are registered to the Waynes.”
“Dad had one once,” Leigh said. “All of us kids got together and gave it to him for Christmas one year.”
“Something to pass on,” Bowie said.
Polly had been listening to the conversation, but she knew something the boys did not. She reached for a tissue in her pocket and dabbed at a fresh set of tears.
“Carl thinks it might have something to do with Stanton and Leigh paying off our bank loan, and Thomas and Beth’s loan, too.”
Bowie frowned. “What do you mean, Aunt Polly?”
“The bank began finding reasons to foreclose on all the outstanding loans down where we live. At least a half-dozen of our nearest neighbors lost their homes. We would have, too, if it hadn’t been for your parents.”
“Why?” Bowie asked.
“There’s a big consortium gathering land to build a resort on the north side of the lake. Tourist business has really picked up in the last four or five years,” Samuel said.
“Let me guess. The Waynes are investors in the resort?” Bowie asked.
Polly nodded. “And our land sits right in the middle of the project.”
Bowie looked at Samuel.
Samuel shrugged. “It could explain why Daddy was targeted.”
Bowie looked at his mother.
“Mama, did Daddy ever mention being concerned that paying off the loans could cripple the project?”
“No, and I wouldn’t have put any of it together if it hadn’t been for Polly.”
“What will happen if they don’t get your land, Aunt Polly?” Bowie asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe the resort will have to be relocated,” she said.
“Then that’s motive,” Bowie said. “I’m calling Riordan back and telling him about this. Even if he doesn’t want to hear it, he needs all the information he can get to build a case against anyone from the Wayne family.”
* * *
Talia sat in the rocker beside her father’s bed with a glass of sweet tea and a half-eaten cookie, listening to the rain blowing against the windows behind her.
Turbulent weather used to agitate her father, especially strong wind, but no more. Erin had told her before she left today that he was moving into the final phase. Talia wasn’t sad to hear this. His suffering was heartbreaking to witness. The father he’d been was long gone. All she knew was he was finally going to be released from this hell. She’d cried all her tears as he’d suffered through this. She wouldn’t be sorry when it was over.
The creak of the rocker was a comforting sound as she finished her tea and cookie. She had vague memories of being rocked in this chair when she was young. Her mother had died when Talia was ten, and with no one to talk to about the memories, she was beginning to forget things about her, too.
Before Bowie Youngblood had knocked on her door, Talia’s future had been a blank. She didn’t know how the timing of her father’s imminent passing and the murder of Bowie’s father played out in the universe, but she believed everything happened for a reason. The fact that they were both losing their fathers and regaining their relationship felt orchestrated by a higher power. All she knew was that she no longer felt dead inside. Knowing he still cared for her gave her the strength she needed to finish this journey.
A loud clap of thunder rattled the dishes in the china cabinet behind her. She set her glass aside and got up to check on her dad. His lips were moving slightly, like he was talking, but no sounds were coming out. She wondered what he was seeing and who he was with. Were there angels standing around his bed waiting to take him home? She needed to believe there were.
As soon as she was certain the thunder hadn’t disturbed him, she carried her glass back into the kitchen and put it in the dishwasher. It was almost eight o’clock. She wondered what was happening at the Youngblood house, then wondered how people coped when death came as murder.
She was thinking about Bowie and the sadness she’d seen in his eyes when her phone rang. She slipped it out of her pocket and, when she saw Bowie’s name on caller ID, answered eagerly.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hey, honey, it’s me,” Bowie said.
“I’m so glad you called.”
“Is everything okay?”
She heard exhaustion in his voice, and she heard sadness.
“Nothing’s changed, if that’s what you mean. You sound like you’ve had a rough day,” she said.
“I’ve had better,” he said.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
He nodded.
Silence lay between them, as uncomfortable as the truth of what was happening.
Tears rolled down Talia’s face as she stared at a water spot on the ceiling. “Erin said Dad’s time is short.”
Bowie heard the resignation in her voice.
“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” he asked.
“I am at peace, Bowie. You gave that to me today. I don’t have the words to explain how much it meant.”
He rubbed his finger between the frown lines above his nose, trying to rub away a headache.
“It was a healing time for me, as well.”
“Then we were both blessed today,” Talia said. “So that was the good part of the day. What else aren’t you saying? There’s something, because I hear it in your voice.”
“The authorities have yet to question a single member of the Wayne family.”
She gasped. “You aren’t serious!”
“I wish I wasn’t,” he said. “When I found out, I left Chief Clayton and Constable Riordan with their ears ringing.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“So am I.”
“It’s because of who they are, isn’t it? Is there anything you can do to force their hand?” she asked.
“I called my brothers. We’ll be in Eden tomorrow morning to see if the constable shows up at the Wayne estate. If it’s okay, I’d like to come by and see you later before I leave town. I know you’re overwhelmed with responsibilities, but knowing there’s still an ‘us’ doesn’t feel real yet. I’d be happy with a hug and a kiss, and then I’ll leave without complaint.”
Her heart fluttered. Knowing there was an “us” was a big deal for her, too.
“I would love to see you. Come whenever you can. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to get some rest. I wish I was there to hold you.”
Talia shivered. “I wish you were, too. One day soon. Good night, Bowie.”
