Family Sins(45)

Blake rolled his eyes.

“Why do you think Stanton paid off their loans?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. Because he was trying to stop something we—”

Blake sighed.

“No! Hell, no! We weren’t even on his radar. He was keeping his brother and sister from losing their homes—homes that had been in both families for a good three generations. They won’t take your money. They don’t give a shit about that resort as long as it doesn’t displace them. I told the investors when they set out to accumulate property that it might be an issue. Now the central part of the land they need is no longer available, nor will it be, which means plans for the resort are now at a standstill. And there better not be any discussion of so-called accidents to either family now, or the cops will blame the whole damn lot of us and we’ll all wind up in prison.”

Jack glanced at the guard and then lowered his voice, too.

“So when did you know Youngblood was the one who paid off those loans?”

Blake shrugged. “I guess as soon as the other investors knew. We were all notified there was a hitch.”

“Why wasn’t I notified?” Jack asked.

“Because investments are my job, that’s why. I didn’t need your advice or permission.”

Jack stopped and then stared at Blake as if he’d never seen him before.

“You didn’t need my permission to do what?”

Blake looked a little taken aback and flushed.

“To do my job,” Blake sputtered.

“Indeed,” Jack muttered, and then noticed the officers coming out of the garage pushing a motorcycle.

Blake sighed. “Should have figured they would find that,” he said.

“Who owns that?” Jack asked.

“The company,” Blake said.

“Who rides it?”

“I guess everyone but you and Fiona has been on it at one time or another,” Blake said.

They watched without further comment as the officers loaded the motorcycle into the back of one of the county vans and then headed into the house to join the others.

Moments later, other officers began coming out carrying rifles.

Jack flinched. “Did you know these were out here?” he asked.

“Yes,” Blake said.

“Did you tell Riordan?”

“No.”

“I wonder who did?” Jack said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Blake said. “They knew we had them. They’re all registered.”

“Do we know what kind of weapon killed Youngblood?” Jack asked.

“Riordan didn’t mention a particular model. He just asked the location of any rifles that were registered to the family. I said I wasn’t sure anymore. I obviously lied,” Blake muttered.

Jack shook his head, handed Blake the door key, then got back in his car and drove away.

Blake leaned against his car with his arms crossed, watching the uniformed officers continuing to emerge with still more rifles.

The wind was beginning to quicken. He glanced up at the sky and then frowned. It appeared they were in for another thunderstorm, which seemed fitting. Their whole way of life was in turmoil.

Finally the cops finished their search and exited the house. Riordan was the last to emerge.

Blake approached with the key in hand.

Riordan looked around for Jack. “Where’s your uncle?” he asked.

“He left. I waited to lock up.”

Riordan gave Blake a studied look. “So you didn’t know where the guns were?”

“I haven’t been out here in years,” Blake said.

“That’s not what I was told,” Riordan said, and then got in his car and led the way off the property.

Blake’s gut was in a knot as he went inside to see what damage they’d done. Cabinet doors and drawers were open, room doors were ajar. And the gun cabinet was empty. He went through the house closing doors and drawers, putting things back to rights as best he could, and then locked the front door on the way out.

He drove back to Eden with one thought on his mind. Which member of his family had blabbed about the location of the rifles? And why? What did they know? Were they trying to point a finger at someone else by being too forthcoming? He couldn’t imagine which one of them would do it, but he was going to find out.

*

Bowie was dreaming of his father. He could see him standing in the tree line just beyond the garden, talking and waving, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. Thinking he needed to get closer, he started forward just as a loud explosion erupted behind him. Before he could turn around to see what had happened, his father’s image began to fade. Then he heard another sound, like the crack of a gunshot, and his father was gone.

He woke abruptly, only to realize the explosion he’d heard was thunder, and the gunshot, a bolt of lightning. And he was in Talia’s bedroom, but she was gone.

He rolled out of bed and headed toward the front of the house, following the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. Talia was standing at the kitchen sink, looking through the window and watching it rain.

He walked up behind her and slid a hand around her waist. It bothered him that he could so readily feel her ribs, and he didn’t know where to start to help her heal. “Are you okay?”

She nodded as she leaned back against him.