Rich Blood (Jason Rich #1)(44)

Jason trotted up the steps that led to a stoop and then the front door, almost able to hear the thudding of his heart. He stuck the key in the hole and twisted, half expecting it not to work.

“I’ll be damned,” Jason said as the door gave and he pressed across the threshold. A pungent, musty odor almost made him gag. The heating and air had been turned off, and the house was hot. Instinctively, he reached for the light switch by the door, but it didn’t work. Obviously. Jana must have turned off the electricity and water soon after their father died.

The door opened into a den with a fireplace and then a large kitchen with a double island. To the right of the den was his parents’ bedroom. He glanced inside, remembering how he’d slept between them on stormy nights when he was young. Jason was now sweating profusely, partly from the heat, partly from the feelings the place brought back. He stepped into the bathroom and gazed at the shower where his father’s heart had stopped working. He wondered sometimes about his dad’s final moments. Where had he left his phone? How far had he crawled to get it? As he struggled for breath, what had the old man been thinking about?

Knowing his father, Jason suspected that Lucas had been focused solely on survival. But what about after he dialed 911? In the minutes before the ambulance arrived? Did he think about me? Did he have any regrets?

Jason felt his eyes growing moist and shook off the depressing thoughts. He left the bedroom and walked downstairs to the basement. He opened the door and stepped out onto a covered patio. The half moon above shone its light onto the middle of the cove, and Jason gazed out at the dark water.

Why had he come here? What was it he wanted to see? Or feel?

Jason trudged around the side of the house with his head down. He reached inside the Porsche and took out the six-pack of Yuengling beer he’d bought at a convenience store. He’d been fighting it all day long, but he was tired of resisting. The day had been difficult. Jana had basically kicked him out of the consultation room, and all he’d learned about his brother-in-law’s murder was that it sure as hell seemed like she was guilty. Just like his work partners and everyone else said. He was tired and strung out and wanted a damn beer. Might as well fall off the wagon at the old homestead.

“Mind if I have one of those?” The voice came from the front of the house, and Jason jumped, almost dropping the carton. He took a step toward the sound and saw a man sitting on the front steps. He had short hair and wore a navy T-shirt.

“I saw you earlier today. Out on Buck Island Drive.”

“Yes, you did,” the man said, continuing to sit. “Tyson Cade. Pleased to meet you.”

Jason’s heart fluttered. “What do you want?”

“A beer.” He held up his hands, and Jason pitched him a bottle. Tyson caught it and twisted the top off before throwing it out into the grass and taking a long sip. “You’re not going to make me drink alone, are you?”

“I’ve lost the urge,” Jason said. “What can I do for you?”

Tyson stood and approached Jason. “The answer to a question.”

Jason wrinkled his face. “What?”

“Are you going to take your sister’s case?”

A surge of adrenaline flowed through Jason’s body. Or maybe it was cortisol. He doubted he could outrun Tyson Cade. The other man was younger and, judging from the veins that protruded from his arms, much stronger.

Tyson reached into the front of his pants and took out a pistol. “Are you?” he asked.

“What’s the correct answer here?” Jason asked.

“No,” Tyson said. “The correct answer is no.”

“Why do you care so much? She’s guilty, right?”

Tyson grinned. “Right.”

“Then why do you care?”

“Let’s just say that if Ms. Waters ever testifies, she knows some things that could hurt my operation.”

“Like the cocaine you sold her.” Jason knew he was violating attorney-client privilege, but he didn’t care. He had a gun pointed at him by a drug dealer.

“You’re a sharp cookie.” Tyson took a step closer.

“I would think you’d want to be paid for the coke she bought from you.”

“Oh, I will, but first things first,” Tyson said. “If Jana takes the stand and implicates me, or worse, if she cuts some kind of a deal to bring me down . . .” He stopped. “Well, I can’t have that. You understand, don’t you?”

“It would be your word against hers, right? I’m sorry, but I can’t imagine my sister’s word being all that trustworthy.”

Tyson rubbed his chin. “I like a man who gets to the point, but your sister is far smarter than to get mixed up with a man like me and not take precautions.”

Jason squinted at him. “Does she have something else on you?”

“I don’t know. Does she?”

Jason gazed at the man, at the gun he was holding, resisting the urge to put his hands up. “I still don’t get it. Why am I a threat? Why are you here waving a gun at me?” He paused. “Could it be that my sister is innocent. That you paid Waylon Pike to kill Braxton, and now you want to make sure she gets convicted?”

“Try again, Counselor. Pike has already confessed that Jana paid him to kill the good doctor.”