Hour of Need (Scarlet Falls #1)(28)

Grant exhaled the breath he’d been unconsciously holding. “You can’t do that to me, Mac.”

“You need to have a little faith, Grant,” Mac shot back. “I know I f*cked up big-time, but that was a long time ago.” He blinked a couple of times, then his gaze sharpened. “Wait a minute. You’re not due home from Afghanistan for two more months.” Apprehension dawned in his bleary eyes. “Who died? Dad?”

Shaking his head, Grant guided his youngest brother into a chair. His relief that Mac was all right shifted to dread at having to break the news. Mac’s butt went down hard, his eyes hardening, preparing for the worst.

“Lee and Kate,” Grant said softly.

Mac’s face went blank for a few seconds, as if he couldn’t comprehend the words. He stared back at Grant, the shock and horror gradually sliding over his expression. “No.”

Grant closed his eyes. Mac’s disbelief brought back his own reaction to receiving the news a few days before. Pain burst fresh in his chest like a flashbang. He turned toward the kitchenette. Giving his brother a minute to absorb the news, he went through the motions of making coffee, though probably neither of them wanted it.

“Car accident?” Mac’s train of thought echoed Grant’s original assumption when he’d gotten the call in Afghanistan.

The coffee pot hissed as Grant dropped into the chair across from Mac. There was no way to smooth the news over. “No. They were murdered. Not sure why. Robbery maybe.”

Mac’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“I know.” Grant rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “I can’t wrap my head around it either.”

“That can’t be right. Not Lee and Kate—” Mac’s voice cracked. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Grant got up, filled a glass with water, and set it on the table in front of his brother. Mac stared at the water. His spine snapped rigid. “Where are the kids?”

“They fell asleep in the car. Hannah’s outside with them.” Grant summed up his last twenty-four hours. “Child services delivered them yesterday. Last night was rough. Faith screamed. Carson cried. No one slept.”

“I can’t believe they spent three days in foster care. How do they seem? Are they OK?”

“I don’t know what’s normal for them. The baby pukes a lot.”

“I think that’s pretty normal for her. How about Carson?”

“Quiet. Exhausted. Terrified,” Grant said. “You’ll probably be a better judge than me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You see him more than I do.”

“Not really. I’m not here much. I was in South America most of the winter. I’m supposed to go back next month.”

The coffee pot beeped. Grant got up and poured two cups of coffee. “South America?”

“Giant river otters.”

“Do you have to go?”

“Only if I want to keep my job, my grant, and continue the research I’ve been working on for the past three years,” Mac said. “Why?”

“The kids. Someone has to raise them.” Grant set the mugs on the table and sat down.

Mac scrubbed his face with both hands, then flattened his hair. “Yeah, I guess it’s you, me, or Hannah.”

They exchanged a look.

“Right. You or me,” Mac qualified. He lifted a fist over his shoulder. “You want to shoot for it?”

“Rock paper scissors isn’t going to cut it.” Grant snorted. “They aren’t the last piece of pie.”

“No, they’re not.” Mac sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re going to have to give me a little time to take this all in. I still can’t believe . . .”

“I know.”

“The police are sure it’s them?”

Grant wished with all his heart he could say no, that the police could be mistaken about Lee and Kate’s identities, but he couldn’t do that. “Yeah, they’re sure.”

Mac slammed a fist on the table. “How the hell does a suburban lawyer get killed in a robbery?”



Donnie scanned the residential street. Daylight wasn’t the best time for a break-in, but the house was empty. The big guy staying at the Barretts’ house had even taken the dog with him. Donnie got out of the white van. The rear windows were heavily tinted to block prying eyes. He’d put a few tools and a big metal box with a handle in the back in case anyone looked. The ladder he’d secured to the roof rack solidified his cover and had come in handy a few times.

He got out and grabbed a clipboard. His dark green coveralls, emblazoned with Robinson’s Gutters & Siding on the back, gave him a great excuse to circle the yard and study the exterior of the house.

At the back door, he glanced around. No one in sight. He pulled the key ring from his pocket. None of the four keys fit. Damn. Either the Barretts hadn’t carried a key to their own house or someone had changed the locks.

Donnie walked back to the van. Opening the rear door, he slid a glass cutter into his pocket and picked up a measuring wheel. Rolling the wheel in front of him, he measured his way around to the rear of the house. A large bush in the flower bed concealed the air conditioning unit. Allowed to grow untrimmed, the shrub also shielded the laundry room window. Behind the cover of the evergreen, he climbed onto the AC box and cut the window glass. A flip of the lock gave him access. He paused for a full minute. No beeping. No alarm. No security system. Sweet. He lifted the sash and pulled his body through the opening. Inside, a few tugs straightened his coveralls.