Sins of the Father

by Winter Austin

  That simple change of attention charged the air behind Jolie. She sensed the tension rolling off Xavier, and it wasn’t the same as what she’d sensed this morning when he’d gone after the men in the bar. No, it was deadlier, warrior-like. Richards had poked a beast, and Jolie had no idea why.

  “Need I remind you, Pastor, that I’m a peace officer? Danger comes with the job.”

  “You’re also a female officer, and that makes it more difficult if you come into contact with a dangerous suspect. Need we forget what happened with your brother?”

  Her index finger grazed the roughened grip of her gun. Damn him for spewing the same macho sexist shit she’d heard from other men for all these years. She’d once overheard Richards trying to convince Dad not to push Jolie in this direction, had droned on and on about how women weren’t capable of handling the pressures and stresses that came with the job. Dad had shot him down, especially since Ian was proving to be worthless for the task. When she was younger, Jolie had shrugged it off, determined to be everything Dad wanted her to be and more. His legacy as sheriff was more important than what some preacher-man said.

  Hell, the younger men in the academy treated her with more respect than this so-called man of God.

  “Dad, I did not come here to be ambushed into a bitch-out from this prick.”

  “That will be enough,” Dad barked, finally coming to his feet. “You will apologize for your language.”

  His actions spurred Xavier forward. The former marine slipped around Jolie and positioned himself slightly off to her left, situated to prevent either of the men from reaching her.

  Bolstered by his commanding presence, she straightened and let her hand fall away from her hip. “I’ll do nothing of the sort.”

  “Jolie—”

  “Shut your trap and sit down,” Xavier snarled, pointing at the chair Richards had vacated.

  A noticeable pallor slipped over the pastor’s face, but he didn’t protest, simply complied with the order.

  A weird sensation coursed through Jolie, like she’d been hooked up to the defibrillator and shocked. Xavier was in full-on protector mode, and it was a sight to behold.

  “Well, now that we have that settled.” Jolie moved toward the center of the room. “You wanted a meeting, and meeting is what you’ll get. I came only because we have a girl who’s gone missing in a similar fashion as a previous girl. A case that you, Dad, were supposed to have taken care of while you were sheriff.”

  He sank into his seat once more, gripping the armrests. “Are you talking about the Grace Maddox thing? She was a runaway.”

  “How do you know she was a runaway?”

  “Grace was the child of a whore”—he spit the word—“and her father wasn’t around. He didn’t know his daughter as well as he thought.”

  “There is nothing in your notes in the case file to prove this theory. Sounds like you just pulled something out of thin air and called it good.”

  “I had plenty of evidence and witness testimony.”

  Jolie crossed her arms. “Really? Where is it?”

  “I put it in the case box. There were even recordings.”

  She shook her head. “Jennings went through that box, and others around it, and he didn’t find anything but a few lonely folders.”

  “Then your precious sheriff did something with them.”

  “Sheriff Hamilton hasn’t touched anything in the basement since he took office.”

  Dad was floored by that revelation. He sat there, blinking at her, quiet for once.

  Jolie’s gaze darted to Richards, who sat silently staring at Xavier. The pastor looked like he was shrinking in on himself. Amazing how the man known for preaching hell and damnation from the pulpit was so easily cowed by someone of Xavier’s stature.

  “Who are the witnesses that gave you the proof that Grace ran off?” Jolie asked.

  Shaking his head, Dad shifted in his seat. “That was ten years ago. Most of them are dead or moved out of town.”

  “How convenient for you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re driving at, Jolie, but it sounds an awful lot like you’re trying to pin blame on me for something.”

  “Give the man a cookie.”

  Both Dad and Pastor Richards scowled at her flippant remark. Jolie grabbed hold of the metaphorical knife already sticking out of Dad’s back and prepared to twist.

  “You labeled that girl before you really got to know her and then wrote her off. Not once did you believe her father or the people who knew her better; instead, you took the assumptions of other people and rendered your verdict like a damn judge. These reports you claim were in the file are not there. Either you’re lying about them, or someone knew where you put them and stole them out of the box.

  “Because you got careless, we’re now faced with another missing girl, and with each passing day she remains missing, the odds of finding her alive lower.”

  “You’ve gone off the deep end.”

  Jolie nodded. “That about sums it up. You know, I had a very telling conversation with Ian today.”

  “That name is not to be spoken in this home.” Dad’s face turned a shade redder. She’d hit him where it hurt.

  “Actually, I’ll say whatever I damn well please.” It was like she was having an out-of-body experience. She could hear herself saying these things but could not imagine she was the one speaking them. This was a Jolie she had never encountered before.

  Was it because of Xavier?

  She took another step closer to the two men seated before her. “Ian reminded me that the time of Grace’s disappearance was an election year for you. Kinda like now. Seemed you were too caught up in the politicking to be a good cop. See, Ian remembers what you did that year; he recalls it all too clearly. And you know what I remember about that time?” She bent at the waist to look her father in the eyes. “I remember that was about the same time you and Ian started having those god-awful fights. Why is that?”

  “Your brother was out of line and needed disciplining.”

  “Funny how he never needed it before.”

  “Jolie, what is this all about?” Richards asked.

  “This, Pastor, is about a man putting his career and image above the greater good. And in the long run, causing the demise of his own family.”

  “Now you’re out of line, daughter.”

  “So be it, because I obviously never could stay on it to make you happy.”

  Richards must have found his flagging courage somewhere in the bowels of his mind, because he stood. His action spurred Xavier forward, but Jolie halted his advance with a lift of her hand. The prospect of an aggressive, ten-ton, military-trained male coming at him didn’t seem to bother Richards this time, which piqued Jolie’s interest.

  “Jolie, you’ve let personal issues get in the way of facts. I’m not sure how you came to the conclusion that Sarah’s disappearance is linked with Grace Maddox’s. If your father has the evidence to prove that Grace was a runaway, why would you dispute this? He was a good sheriff and would have never let things like that slip through the cracks for something as trivial as an election.”

  “And you’re a brown-nosing crony who would say anything to make him look like a saint.”

  Richards’s eyes flashed with ire. “Now you’re definitely out of line.”

  “Grace was reported to be a good Christian girl. If this is true, then she would have been darkening the doors of your pious little church.”

  He frowned. “Who told you she came to my church?”

  “That is for police knowledge only.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but you’re sorely mistaken. Grace never came to my church. Now, I do recall Sarah coming from time to time, but never Grace.”

  “Sure about that?”

  “Jolie, I recall any and all people who attend my church, even the guests. And Grace Maddox was never one, even during our Vacation Bible School.” He held up a finger to give her pause. “That is to say, she didn’t atte
nd ours. She might have attended one of the other churches in the community. But with her known family history, I highly doubt it.”

  “Why? Because her momma was a whore and her daddy was a sinner for having married one? Maybe you should read your Bible a little more, Pastor, because if I recall right, Hosea did the same thing.”

  A heavy hand settled on her shoulder, and Xavier’s warmth seeped through her, calming her. Thank goodness he’d done it. She was too close to revealing more than she should to both men.

  “I think this meeting is over.” His voice rumbled through her mind, shaking it lose from beneath the fury that had built while she was here.

  Slipping out from under his touch, she turned on her heel and marched back the way she’d come. She sensed more than heard Xavier following.

  “Jolie, please, consider how your anger is hurting your family,” Richards called out.

  Coming to a hard stop, she looked back at the men. “I’m not the one who started this whole mess. And I’m sure as hell going to be the one to clean it up.”

  • • •

  Xavier had to push himself to keep up with Jolie as she double-timed out of the house. She screeched to a halt next to her car; bent over the hood, she took deep, gulping breaths.

  “Where did that come from?” he asked.

  She reared back and turned to him, her face flushed pink, beads of sweat lining her upper lip. “I don’t know. I thought about how they wanted to ambush me with that bullshit and how Dad wrote off Grace, and it just pissed me off.”

  “Whatever it was, it’s a good sign. Looks like you might just make a good investigator.”

  “You think so? I mean, I did go off on them, and that’s not how Cassy or Con would handle things.”

  Xavier smiled. “Everyone is different. Remember that, and you’ll have a fair go of it.”

  She beamed, blinked, and then turned away. “I should go. My shift is up, and I want to get a run in tonight.”

  “Still stuck on this getting in shape deal?”

  She patted her flat stomach. “Gotta work off all that nasty fair food.” With a wink, she opened her car door and climbed in. “Thanks for backing me today, Xavier.”

  “Any time.” He touched his forehead, moved away as she closed the door, and started the engine.

  She flashed him a tight smile and drove off in a puff of gravel dust. What a surprise. She had an iron will—much like her father’s—but didn’t use it to exploit her position. Xavier hadn’t lied—she was on her way to being a good cop. His chest ached. A good cop who could bloody well be the one to seal his doom.

  Heading for his truck, he glanced over at the Murdoch home. Josiah Richards emerged from the house and meandered to his car. Pausing before getting into his vehicle, the man looked Xavier’s way. They stared at each other.

  Until this evening, Xavier couldn’t recall a time he’d ever met the man. But he was aware of one defining fact: he didn’t like him, and that was before he picked up on Jolie’s obvious dislike. Maybe it was because Richards was friends with a jackass like Eli Murdoch, or perhaps it was the disdain that carried in the man’s voice when he spoke down on women being cops. Or maybe it was that Xavier’s sixth sense—the instinct that had failed him with the interpreter—had finally regained its footing and was warning him.

  Dismissing Xavier, Richards got into his car. Xavier climbed into his truck. Settled behind the wheel, he watched as Richards backed out of the drive and drove past. An unsettling urge to whip his truck around and follow the man hit him. He almost did it, had the steering wheel starting in that direction, but pulled up short. This was not his job. He had no reason to be tailing the man and spying on him.

  With the urge firmly tucked away, Xavier pointed his truck in the direction Jolie had gone. He’d been aware that she lived somewhere along this road, near her parents, but had never actually gone this far to find it. A bit over three miles from the Murdochs’ driveway was a winding lane with a fresh layer of gravel and a shiny black mailbox, the house number painted white along the side. He slowed, studying the area. Through the line of trees along the old barbed-wire fence, he spotted the bright yellow siding of the house. It seemed fitting for a woman like Jolie to live in a cheery yellow house.

  Gunning the engine, he drove on toward town and his own home. The closer he got, the more it sank in that somehow, at some point, Jolie had managed to help him forget about what had happened in the pub with the Rivers family. And as he pulled into the drive of his home, clarity hit him hard: He’d overreacted by running out on everyone in that moment. He had been as selfish as Mum had been in lying to him and hiding his birth from William.

  The moment Xavier exited the cab of his truck; a female awkwardly stood from the porch swing and waddled to the railing. Xavier rounded the back of his truck, and when he started up the walk, another woman joined the first.

  There was no running this time.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cassy had chosen a seat more suited for her pregnant body, while Nic was perched on the armrest next to her sister—their sister. He had to get used to the idea that they were his siblings.

  Somewhere in the background, Ariel and Zac hovered. Xavier had begged them to stay out of this, let him handle whatever was coming, but Ariel and her mothering instincts wouldn’t be restrained for long.

  Easing down on the edge of the sofa, he clasped his hands between his knees and waited. He could feel Nic picking him apart from head to toe, probably cataloging everything about him and comparing it to William.

  “Excuse Nic,” Cassy said. “We’ve been trying to house-train her for years, but it’s not sticking.”

  Nic thwacked her sister’s arm with the back of her hand. “Be serious.”

  “I am. Deadly.” The corner of Cassy’s mouth twitched.

  Xavier rubbed his face, hiding the smile that was threatening. He’d always liked Cassy; her humor was refreshing, especially since she married Boyce.

  “Xavier, that was quite a show you put on today. I’m impressed.” Cassy winced and shifted, holding her belly. “But I do have to say, a heads-up would’ve been nice.”

  “Look, ladies, I wasn’t planning on being ambushed like that.”

  “Neither were we. I think a friendly ‘hey, I’m your brother’ when you came into town would’ve worked better,” Nic said.

  “Have you seen yourself lately?” Cassy asked her sister, looking up at her. “You’re not exactly the cuddliest person in the world. Which begs the question, how does Con sleep with you and not wake up with his eyes scratched out?”

  “Cassandra, knock off the shit.”

  “Just trying to lighten the mood here. You two are entirely too serious. We should be celebrating, not clawing at each others’ throats.”

  “Did you drink some of Agent Asshole’s special Kool-Aid today?”

  “Oh my God!” came from the kitchen.

  Xavier twisted around as Ariel burst into the living room with Zac in tow. Oh, this was not going to be pretty.

  “Do either of you take anything seriously?” Ariel barked. “He’s your brother, and he’s known for a long time but been too chicken to say anything. There, happy?”

  Xavier stood. “Would everyone just chill?” He sighed. “Yes, what Ariel said. I’m your brother but couldn’t figure out how to tell you.”

  Nic slipped off the armrest, coming to her full height, which was still several inches shorter than his. “A marine wouldn’t hide.”

  “Oh, quite spouting that crap,” Cassy said. “You and I both know you hate the marines as much as you hated Pop at one time.”

  “They deserve to be in the loony bin,” Ariel groused.

  “This henhouse is getting out of control,” Zac said, heading for the door. “I’m out of here.”

  “Stop! You get back here,” Ariel ordered. She swung around and put Nic square in her crosshair. “Either get on with your reasons for coming here, or leave.”

  Nic’s gaze bounc
ed from Ariel to Xavier and then down to Cassy. “Wow, she’s bossy. Kinda like you.”

  “Only when it comes to you, big sis.”

  This had gone FUBAR in a hurry.

  “We came to, one, apologize for what went down at the pub,” Cassy said, “and two, get to the bottom of this ordeal. Believe me, Nic has a lot to overcome in the betrayal department with Pop. Finding out we have a long-lost brother was a bit upsetting.”

  Skirting the sofa, Xavier took hold of Ariel’s arm and shooed his brother away—Zac shot out of the house like mortar fire. “I’ll be fine. Just pour yourself a glass of wine and stay out of my hair.” He said the last part under his breath.

  “Are you sure you want to be a part of that family? They’re all nutters.”

  “That’s how they cope.” He kissed Ariel’s cheek. “Get drunk; you’re happier that way.” He pushed her into the kitchen and pulled the door shut, then turned back to his other sisters.

  It was disconcerting, seeing the same pair of eyes that he saw every morning when he looked in the mirror staring back at him from a female face. This was family, a family that for him had grown by three—well, more than that when he added in their spouses and children. And all of it was overwhelming.

  Nic sighed, turned, and began to pace. Her posture was a military one, hands clasped behind her back and spine straight as a rod. She would never lose that bearing, especially as the child of a high-ranking general.

  “How do we move on from this?” she asked.

  “The same way we’ve done everything else in our lives,” Cassy said, rubbing her belly. “With the damn stubborn nature that was born to us as Rivers. He’s family, and we get to know him.”

  Xavier shook his head. “Not likely.”

  “Why not?” both sisters asked as one.

  “I came here to confront him, not get to know the whole extended family. I’m planning to go back to Australia; that’s my home.”

  Skepticism rolled off of both of them in waves.

  “Then why come here at all, only to leave once you’ve opened a can of worms?” Cassy asked. “You could have stayed in Australia, joined their military, and left Pop none the wiser—or us, for that matter. One doesn’t move to the other side of the world and upset a whole family for a ‘confrontation.’”