Cold Case Murder Mystery (Hudson Sibling Solutions #7)

Chapter Eight

In the morning, Brooke left.

Not for good. Just early enough that hopefully Zeke wouldn’t know what she’d done. Of course, she’d had to take his truck, so it was unlikely she wasn’t going to have to explain herself, but she had to do this first.

At the sheriff’s department. Maybe Zeke would know she’d done something, but she didn’t have to tell him exactly what. It was none of his business. Royal was none of his business. No matter how kind he’d been about the whole thing yesterday.

Brooke had never had a normal life. Nothing had ever really been easy or routine or settled. The only routine was that unexpected change would inevitably come knocking.

Zeke.

Her brother.

Her father.

She still couldn’t quite believe what Royal had told her. She should have told Zeke. The guilt was eating her up. Staying in his house, eating his food, and keeping this huge secret.

Yet she would also feel guilty if she told Zeke something Royal didn’t want shared.

And at the end of the day, she wasn’t sure who the right man to place her loyalty with was. They’d both hurt her in different ways. She’d failed them both in different ways.

Maybe you should just bail.

Tempting. So tempting. Retreat. Isolate. She wanted to. It was the right thing. Everyone was getting too deep and too complicated and too hard.

But she had a job to do. So she didn’t choose Zeke or Royal. She’d decided to choose someone who had no real connection to her. It was hard to ask for help. It made her feel sick to her stomach. A burden and a bother, when she wanted to handle everything herself.

Nonetheless, she couldn’t handle this. So she walked into the sheriff’s department and asked for Thomas. She was pretty sure he had an early morning shift to cover her morning cave work, and when the administrative assistant took her through the security measures and then directed her to his office, she let out a slow, steady breath.

This was going to work. This was going to be okay. The police were there to help, and Thomas had been nothing but kind. Besides, she wasn’t asking for anything difficult.

His office door was open and he sat at his desk, writing something down on a piece of paper.

“Thomas.”

He looked up from his desk, no doubt surprised to see her. He glanced at the clock. “Did I miss a schedule change?”

he asked with some concern.

She managed a smile and shook her head. “No. I have a favor to ask you. As a detective. Not related to the cave or the remains.”

The concern didn’t leave his expression. He pointed to the seat in his office. “Sit.”

Brooke didn’t let her nerves show. There was nothing to be nervous about. She was only asking for a favor. Information. And once she had it, she could decide what to do about Royal’s theories. What to do about Zeke.

Thomas was not the kind of guy to hold it against her, and if it hurt Zeke’s feelings that she was asking someone else for help, that was his problem. And if Royal was going to get bent out of shape over her finding the truth . . . Well.

The only thing that mattered was the truth. The facts. The data from which she could then make an educated choice.

“I don’t know what kind of background you guys did into me when I was hired for this case,”

she began, because she’d been internally practicing this interaction ever since the idea had occurred to her last night.

“Not much. We needed a forensic anthropologist ASAP. I think maybe someone looked into your credentials, but that was all bureaucratic red tape I’m not involved in. So I can’t say as I know much.”

No doubt because there wasn’t much to know. No doubt Zeke had gone through Granger to refer her to Bent County when his friends had needed a forensic anthropologist, which meant Granger had used his skills to smooth over anything standing in her way of helping.

Not that she wasn’t qualified for the job, or her cases wouldn’t speak for themselves. Just that the governmental wheels in place for these things tended to run a little slow, and this had been quick. North Star—or Granger MacMillan—interference quick.

And now she had to be quick and get to the point. “My father was a high-ranking member of the Sons of the Badlands.”

She couldn’t believe she was still talking about this all these years later. Almost five years since the Sons had been wiped out.

“That old biker gang?”

Thomas responded, eyebrows drawn together as if he couldn’t remember. Or couldn’t believe it.

She nodded. “Yes. I was under the impression he was in jail. For life. But . . . I heard a rumor. I just want to know where he’s at. What the state of his sentencing is. I thought maybe you would be able to get that information or know someone who would.”

Thomas nodded. “Absolutely. Are you worried about your safety?”

She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. Not really. I never really mattered to him. But my brother . . . I do worry about him. It would just ease my mind to know everything is as it should be.”

“Okay. I just need his name and a few other details and I should be able to have some answers to you by the end of the day.”

He picked up a pen and pulled a pad of paper in front of him. He asked for the normal things. Name. Birth date. What jail she thought he was in.

Brooke recited the information as best she could even though speaking her father’s name made her feel . . . fragile.

Once Thomas was done, he tapped his pen to the pad, studying the information. He was quiet for a long moment before looking up, meeting her gaze. “Did you talk to Zeke about this?”

That surprised her enough to frown at him. “This is none of Zeke’s business.”

She tried not to sound irritated.

“Isn’t that his truck you drove up here?”

She wasn’t sure how Thomas knew what she’d driven to the station, but she didn’t like it. She stood, probably too abruptly. “I don’t need you to poke into it. I just need to know the facts. I thought I could trust you to get them and relay them.”

He never looked away from her, never let her agitation get to him. He was all cop-calm as he held her angry gaze. “You can,”

he said seriously.

She almost sagged with relief. It didn’t take the stress away but did loosen some of the tight band it had created around her shoulders.

But then, Thomas kept talking about Zeke.

“You and I might not be friends, Brooke, but I am friends with Zeke. I don’t think there’s anything worth keeping from him if it’s dangerous. For what it’s worth, he’s a good guy and he can keep you safe, if you’re in danger.”

“I’m not in danger,”

she said firmly. Because she wasn’t. Royal was just . . . She didn’t know, but she wasn’t involved with Royal’s recent past. “It’s ancient history.”

“You of all people should know just how dangerous ancient history is.”

That felt far too ominous for comfort.

She turned to leave. Because she’d done what she’d come to do, and he was going to help her. She’d asked for help and gotten it, and the world hadn’t ended. So there. “I’ll see you at the cave later.”

Because the job went on. No matter what Royal thought was going on with their father.

Zeke had woken to an empty house and his truck missing. He wasn’t sure what took precedence. His anger she’d gone off and done something stupid and dangerous, no matter what it was. Or the fact he hadn’t woken up.

What kind of operative was he?

The retired kind?

He pushed that thought out of his head. He assumed Brooke’s secret trip was to see her brother, so he’d called Walker and asked to borrow one of his cars. Carlyle had driven the old junker over, and he owed her one.

That was annoying.

Zeke drove to Brooke’s rental cabin, concerned the car might not make it. Walker had to be keeping this clunker for sentimental reasons instead of practical ones. There was no way he’d let Mary drive this thing with the baby. And at the rate they were going, they’d need a minivan soon.

By the time he made it to Brooke’s rental, she was already gone. Or, maybe, he’d been wrong about where she’d gone. He didn’t think so. He knew her. He understood her.

And now it was his turn to have a little conversation with her brother. One she didn’t get to hear.

Before Zeke had turned off the engine, Royal stood at the door. His arms were crossed over his chest again, but he didn’t have a weapon. Zeke considered holstering his, but instead, as a sign of good faith, he left it in the car.

Or maybe, in the back of his mind, he worried what Brooke would think about him showing up armed if it got back to her. Not that he intended to tell her about this, but Royal might.

And that was fine. It was all fine. He was just making it clear to this man that whatever he was up to wasn’t something Zeke would allow Brooke to be caught in the middle of.

He got out of the car and made his way up to the door of the cabin. He’d left Viola back at the ranch with Carlyle in case Brooke returned in his absence.

“Didn’t realize my morning would start with a visit from Brooke’s bodyguard.”

“You know, speaking as a brother, I’d be pretty happy if someone was looking out for my sister at any point, but especially when someone was sneaking around following her.”

“Looking out for her, huh?”

Royal replied. “I’m not the only one who’s been following her. I saw you at the cave.”

That’s different, he wanted to say, but knew it would be hard to explain how it was different. Because he hadn’t told her that was what he’d been doing when he’d followed her around. “Your sister came to me for help. I plan to give it.”

“What exactly did Brooke tell you?”

Royal asked suspiciously.

“That you told her you’ve been following her because you wanted to make sure she was okay, which is BS, obviously. Stalking isn’t concern.”

“That all she tell you?”

Zeke didn’t like the idea of there being more, but he had to play it casual. “What else is there?”

Royal shook his head. “Nothing. Look, I don’t have anything to do with you and you don’t have anything to do with me. Whatever you’re trying to do—intimidate me?—it’s not going to work. So why don’t you just leave me alone?”

“Here’s the bottom line. I’m not letting anything happen to her. Whether that’s protecting her from you or whatever else, it’s not happening. It’s best if you know that, straight off.”

“What? So I can run away like I’m scared of some . . .”

He looked Zeke up and down. “Rancher?”

Zeke smiled at him. “You should be.”

Royal’s gaze was more considering than it had been. “You military or something?” he asked.

“Was for a time. Among other things.”

Royal nodded as if satisfied with that answer. “That’s good, I guess. I happen to think prison offers a better training ground for understanding a criminal enough to stop him, but knowing how to use a gun has its plusses.”

“That it does.”

Silence settled between them. No doubt Royal was taking Zeke’s measure, the same way Zeke was doing to him. But Zeke knew Royal had no concept of who he was. Zeke had heard stories of Royal as a kid, and the ways Brooke felt she’d failed him after they’d been separated in foster care.

He also knew that a childhood like theirs made trouble more common than not. He’d been on the edge of it himself a time or two, but Walker had always pulled him back from the edge. Instilled in him the importance of doing the right thing . . . for the family.

Where would he have been if they’d all been separated?

He didn’t appreciate the wriggle of compassion he felt for Royal. There was no reason to trust him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a certain level of empathy toward him. It didn’t mean he couldn’t make the first move. “I’ve known Brooke a long time,”

he said, hoping to give some context to why he was here, and what he’d do to keep Brooke safe from anyone.

Even her brother.

Royal shrugged. “I knew her first.”

“You knew a girl. I know the woman she is. And I know how it killed her to find out you were in jail, that you never responded to all those letters, and I know she blamed herself for all of it.”

“You sure know a lot.”

“Damn straight.”

“But you know her side. Maybe from my side she should blame herself.”

Zeke didn’t let his hands curl into fists, though they wanted to. “And maybe she shouldn’t. You were both dealt the same shitty hand, and I hate to break it to you, lots of people are. She figured out how to build a real life out of it. You can blame her for that, or you can build your own. But nothing’s going to happen to her. I won’t let it. So I don’t know why you’re here, why you’ve been following her, but it’s not going to get past me. You can believe me, or you can run up against me, but Brooke won’t be the target.”

There was a long, drawn-out pause while Royal studied him and Zeke stood there, letting him.

“You care about her,”

Royal said after a while, like he wasn’t completely sure he believed it. Like it was a question.

“You’re damn right.”

Because what was the point hemming and hawing to her brother? What was the point ignoring it himself? Maybe he hated it. Maybe he wished he didn’t. But he did and it wasn’t going away. So.

“Good. Someone should.”

Zeke could only stare at the one person he’d ever seen Brooke cry over, besides his own sorry ass. Multiple times. “Her brother could.”

“I could,”

he agreed. His expression remained grim but wasn’t quite so abrasive. “If I thought it was safe. But it’s not. And neither is she.”

That sounded somehow both like a warning and a threat.

“How so?”

“If she wanted you to know, you’d know.”

That was fair, even if it hurt.

“Does she know?”

Royal smirked. “You care about her but she’s not telling you her secrets?”

He tsked. “Maybe you’re not quite as important to her as you’d like to think.”

“I shouldn’t be important to her at all.”

He shouldn’t have said that out loud. Besides, he’d come here to warn Royal, and now he had. What the guy did with said warning was up to him.

Zeke turned to leave, trying not to concern himself with Brooke’s secrets. Because she could tell him or not tell him whatever she wanted. It was her life. Her family.

Her safety—that is your responsibility.

“Hey.”

Zeke stopped, turned to face Royal, who still stood on the porch.

“Look up what I was in jail for.”

Then he turned on a heel and disappeared inside, the slam of the cabin door echoing through the quiet morning.

Zeke wasn’t sure what kind of parting shot that was, but it was . . . interesting.

And, surely, Hart could get him Royal’s entire rap sheet. So, he hopped in his borrowed car and decided to head for Bent. Maybe he could catch the detective before he headed out to the caves to meet up with Brooke.

He started driving, his thoughts fixing on Royal Campbell and jail, on the fact the brother Brooke hadn’t seen in something like fifteen years might know something about her Zeke didn’t.

He kept picturing yesterday. When Brooke and Royal had spoken quietly and Zeke hadn’t heard what they’d said. He’d chalked it up to sibling stuff.

But what if it was more and she was hiding something big from him?

Before he could give that too much thought, he saw a truck going in the opposite direction on its side of the highway, which was normal.

Except that it was his truck.