Chapter 11 #3
Bryson hooked his boot around the chair beside him and dragged it out. “Have a seat.” Normally, one of them would start in on the sparing, but there was no point in beating a man when he was down. “Did you come here straight from the station?”
Grant lowered himself into it like his bones might shatter under his own weight. “No. I took my wife home, kissed my kids, then drove here.”
Walter poured coffee into a thick ceramic mug and slid it over. “Would you like a muffin? Or I can whip up some eggs and sausage?”
Grant shook his head. “No thank you. Just the caffeine.” He wrapped his hands around the mug, staring into it. “What a night.”
Bryson leaned in, elbows braced on the table. “You doing okay?”
Grant snorted, his eyes stayed fixed on the coffee. “That’s a relative term.” A few moments of silence filled the kitchen before Grant said, “I knew about the missing money.”
Bryson’s jaw tightened. “Really? How long?”
“Few months. At first, I thought it was just a dumb mistake on my part. But I generally don’t make those. So, ran all the numbers again. They didn’t add up. It drove me crazy. I couldn’t figure it out, and while I know you think I’m an arrogant ass, I’m really good at my job.”
“I’ve never said you weren’t,” Bryson said.
“I was honestly shocked when I went through the books,” his dad offered. “Mistakes I can understand, but the money trail makes some interesting loops, and you know what it looks like,” Bryson’s dad said.
“I’ve been digging for the last couple of months. Didn’t want to say anything until I had proof. My name’s on vendor approvals that don’t exist. Transfers of funds. The checks…” Grant shook his head. “It looked bad. I wanted to find the problem before it went public. Before I went to anyone.”
Walter’s tone sharpened. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Because you’re on the committee,” Grant shot back, frustration flaring before he caught himself. “You’d have to take it straight to a meeting. If it was just a screw-up, I’d take the heat. But deep down I knew it wasn’t that, and I needed time to uncover… hell if I know.”
Walter’s gaze was steady. “Unfortunately, not coming forward didn’t do you any favors.”
Grant’s grip tightened on the mug. “It’s so much worse than I thought. The morning Dad died… we had a conversation about it.” His voice cracked. “He’d already figured it out. Looked at some records, and it all pointed to me.”
“How did he know?” Bryson asked.
“He didn’t say, but it didn’t matter. He might not be on the advisory board, but he still volunteered on the tourism and wine committee,” Grant said. “We argued for a bit. I swore to him I didn’t take it. I think he believed me. Or, at least, he wanted to.”
Bryson watched Grant's shoulders sag, as if admitting that even Sean had doubts was the final straw.
“When I left, he was standing at the end of your driveway, coffee cup in hand, reminding me that I needed to tell someone. To work with someone to figure it out. That if I didn’t do it, continuing to remain quiet would only make me look guilty.”
“You told Sandy that?” Bryson asked.
“Yeah. But now, I can’t tell if they think I’m lying. That they’re wondering if maybe we argued and I…” Grant’s words trailed off, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what they think.”
“What time did you leave your dad that morning?” his father asked.
“Around seven,” Grant said.
“I found him a little after eight. That’s a full hour, and we do have Sean walking up the field at seven ten,” Bryson added.
Walter’s jaw flexed. “The autopsy’s Monday. We’ll know more then.”
“So, now you think I, or someone else, killed my father,” Grant said, slamming his fist on the counter.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Bryson’s father said. “But something doesn’t add up, and until we know more, it’s a waiting game.”
“With my life teetering in the balance,” Grant whispered. “The timing of my father’s death has had me on edge.”
“I don’t mean to be accusatory, but asking the ME not to do an autopsy doesn’t bode well for you.” Bryson’s father stood and leaned against the sink. He’d always been the kind of man who thought better on his feet.
“Jesus. I only did that because my dad really thinks cutting into the human body is a little psycho, and my mom’s right there with him.
” Grant leaned back, rubbing his neck. “Should have seen her during Parker’s cancer treatments.
Either she was in everyone’s face, telling them what to do, or more like what not to do, or she was nowhere to be found, only to come in later like a wrecking ball because she didn’t like his treatment. Talk about crazy.”
Bryson wasn’t used to Grant discussing his mother in this fashion, so he let it slide right on by.
“I’m curious,” Bryson’s father started, “did Kelly know all this? Or did she find out when Sandy brought you in last night?”
“She’s known everything from day one. I’ve never kept it from her.”
“Did you call my attorney, Harlan?” Bryson’s father asked. “Or did Chad show up and demand to represent you?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong, except maybe not tell anyone about the missing money, but yeah, I know how it looks.
” Grant raked a hand down his face. “I won’t use Chad—he’s a crap lawyer and an even worse husband to Erin.
Been cheating on her for years. She doesn’t need this.
None of us do.” He looked up at Bryson, voice rough.
“I want Riley out of it. Keep her safe from this mess.”
“I’m not lying to her,” Bryson said flatly. “I tried hiding the truth once—that picture of me and Monica—and it blew up in my face. I’m not repeating history.”
“You want to hear something funny about that one?” Grant asked.
“There’s nothing amusing about what happened back then.” Bryson glared, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. This was not the time to get into a brawl with Grant.
“I told Riley that either that picture was a fake or that Monica planted her lips on your mouth knowing someone was going to take that picture.” He shrugged.
“There’s no way you’d ever do that. Not with anyone.
” Grant sighed. “But Riley and I were always fighting back then, and something else was going on with her. Nothing Erin and I said could console her.”
Heart suddenly pounding, Bryson froze for a moment. His mind raced back to that phone call. Bryson, I… I… lost the baby. Riley’s words tore through his system. He swallowed. Hard.
Grant snorted. “I never hated you, you know. Not completely. I just never thought you fought for her. And to me? That’s not love.
When my mom thought my wife was beneath me, I fought like hell.
I might blame you for some things, but I’ll tell you this—you’re a hell of a lot better than Chad.
” He tapped his knuckles on the counter.
“And I believe you loved her. Hell, I know you still do.”
“I fought for her in my own way. Staying when she wanted the world wasn’t easy.
But back then? We were never going to meet in the middle.
It’s hard to love someone so much and know the best thing for them is to let them go.
It was the right thing for Riley. I just behaved like an ass. ” Bryson’s voice was quiet but firm.
Grant’s gaze dropped. “I won’t argue that point. But you’ve got another shot now. Don’t screw it up.”
“Never thought I’d see the day when you two agreed on anything,” Bryson’s father said. “Now, how about we discuss you and your attorney needs because you absolutely should have representation.”
Grant groaned. “My mother has texted me five times. Chad, even more. As if that man could help me. I did leave a message with the guy you mentioned, but I haven’t heard back yet.”
“Harlan Maddox,” Bryson’s father said. “His firm can handle anything. He started out in the DA’s office and moved over to private practice a few years ago. I use someone in his office for all my accounting needs, but he does handle criminal cases.”
“I really don’t like the way you put that,” Grant said.
“Just being proactive.” Walter leaned forward.
“You think he’d take me on?”
“If I ask him to,” Bryson’s dad said.
“So, you believe me?” Grant shifted his gaze between Bryson and his father.
“I do,” Bryson spoke first. “You and I might have never gotten along, but I’ve never known you to lie. Not about important things. It makes no sense that you’d do this.”
“That’s just it, I wouldn’t. I begged people not to invest in Robert Wilkerson’s business.
I knew it was a scheme. I distanced myself from him during college.
He was always running a racket.” He sighed.
“I make good money. I’ve got no reason to steal from this community.
” Grant slumped in his seat. “I don’t get it. ”
“What about enemies?” Bryson asked.
“Outside of you and your brother, not many,” Grant said. “A few people in business, but that’s less like enemies and more like we just don’t see eye to eye.”
“What about people who didn’t take your advice about Robert?” Bryson’s father asked.
Grant shrugged. “I don’t think anyone blamed me for that, not even my mother, and she’s the queen of blame.”
Silence filled the kitchen—just the clock ticking and the hum of the fridge.
Walter finally spoke. “You need some rest. So, you’re going to march yourself up to one of our guest rooms, climb into a bed, and sleep for a few hours. I’ll call Harlan. See if he can make a Sunday house call.”
Grant hesitated. “I’m too tired to argue. Thanks.”
Bryson caught his father’s eyes over Grant’s bowed head. Walter’s look said, “Help him.”
But Bryson’s gut whispered something different—that Grant’s hadn’t given them the whole story. That pieces were missing, things they didn’t know. And until Monday’s autopsy, those shadows were going to linger, no matter how much coffee they poured or how many reassurances they gave.