The cop was putting him on notice, establishing that he had the intel. “I am a licensed private investigator, as you already know, right? I came to the cottage because it’s where my sister stayed before her death.”
He saw Helen flinch. The bruise marred her skin, her dusting of freckles stark against the pale complexion. He saw the fine muscles of her throat convulse. It made him uncomfortable, though he couldn’t figure out why. “Are you okay?” he asked before he could stop himself.
She pinched her lips together and nodded, meeting his gaze for a moment. The green of those eyes had to be one in a million, the iridescent hue of some brilliant ocean coral he’d photographed. He shook off the thought and went on. “I just wanted to see the place again before it was demolished.”
“And?” Farraday prodded.
“And I got wind that there may be a connection between Fiona’s death and the teen who was murdered, Trish O’Brian.”
Now Farraday’s eyes slitted. “How exactly did you get wind of that?”
Sergio shrugged. “Not important.” Before Farraday could press him further he continued. “You were the investigating officer back at the time Trish was killed, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” One clipped syllable.
“And the murderer was never apprehended?”
Farraday paused. “No.”
Sergio nodded. “The two kids who looked like suspects, Justin Dover and Gavin Cutter. Both were cleared.” He shot a glance at Helen. “And you, and my sister, of course.”
Farraday didn’t respond.
“Now those tunnels where she died are closed up, but rumor has it they’ve been used more recently.” Sergio surveyed the family watching his every move. “Bad guys get paid a few bucks to carry illegal prescription drugs from a drop to some distribution points.”
“Old news. Patron shut that operation down. Those are rumors,” Farraday said. “Plenty of those flying around in a small town. Don’t believe everything you hear.”
And don’t discount anything either. “My sister was looking into something.”
“Yes,” Helen said, stepping around Ginny. He half expected Farraday to stop her joining them, but he didn’t. She was followed by the cowboy he’d met earlier, Chad, and a mountain of a man with dusky skin and a scar on his cheek.
“Mitch Whitehorse,” he said by way of introduction. “Helen’s brother.”
Not blood kin, clearly. The woman was surrounded by adopted cowboy brothers.
“Mitch is a former US marshal,” Farraday explained. “He can tell you we don’t arrest people without evidence, and there wasn’t enough to nail anyone for Trish’s death.”
“Or my sister’s.”
Farraday nodded. “Correct.”
“So the note? The one my sister wrote mentioning Trish before she was murdered?”
“Your sister’s death was a hit-and-run...” the cop started.
“Murder,” Sergio said firmly. “It’s murder when a driver speeds up intentionally to hit someone and doesn’t stop after, isn’t that right?” He locked gazes with Helen again, noting something stark and anguished in her expression.
Farraday pushed back his chair and stood. “So why are you here, Mr. Ross? Are you intending to involve yourself in police business?”
“No.” He felt every eye on him, suspicious, wary, waiting. “I’m here to make sure whoever killed my sister is sent to prison.”
The room went dead silent.
Mitch spoke first, staring him down. “And who do you figure is responsible?”
Sergio wasn’t about to be intimidated. “I don’t know. I’ll share when I have something concrete. Until then, I’ll keep my investigation private.”
Mitch’s expression turned to granite. “Helen is our sister, and whoever was hiding in that closet hurt her and set fire to the cabin. We take that kind of thing real personally here at Roughwater Ranch, Mr. Ross.”
“My sister was murdered here,” he said, on his feet now. “And I take that personally too.” He was almost as tall as Mitch and he leveraged every inch. Five tense seconds passed between them before he figured Mitch had got the measure of him. Helen stepped between them, her palm gentle on Mitch’s wide chest.
“It’s okay, Mitch,” she whispered.
“No, it’s not,” Sergio said quietly. “It won’t ever be all right because my sister is dead and her girls are motherless.” He’d dropped the words like empty bottles that shattered on the tile floor. Shards of his anger struck at her and though he felt a flicker of shame, it did not blunt his rage. Her eyes raked him, searching. What was she looking for? Some of Fiona’s warmth mirrored in him? She wasn’t going to find it.
I’m all hard edges and determination, and I want only one thing.
Whoever killed Fiona is going to pay.
Helen refused a trip to the hospital. “It’s a bump, that’s all.” And she declined to be persuaded to sleep at the ranch house. “I have to get back to the lodge. We’ve got a big group checking in in the morning, fifty cattlemen and women here for a convention.”
She accepted hugs and kisses from a worried Gus and Ginny, and the promise that Farraday would process the cottage for evidence as soon as he finished with their statements. Chad walked her to her vehicle. She pretended not to notice Sergio trailing behind them, but his proximity made her senses prickle.
He’d become a private investigator, apparently, in the nearly three years since the funeral, and now he thought he was ready to solve his sister’s murder.
Trish. Proof.
Find out who still has theirs.
Helen had noticed Fiona was distracted during her visit, but she assumed it was the responsibility of being a new mom. Helen had been knee-deep in responsibility herself at that time, having recently taken over the job as manager of the luxurious Roughwater Lodge. The town and lodge were bustling with people visiting the area for a horse show and competition. The morning of Fiona’s death they were supposed to meet for coffee in town, but a broken water heater required Helen’s attention and she’d postponed.
No prob, Fiona had messaged. Tell you about it later.
She hadn’t even read the message until hours later, after Fiona had already been killed.
She realized they were at her van when Chad politely cleared his throat. Chad was a man of very few words, but she knew he wanted to be sure she was okay.
“Uh... I wondered if, you know, I should tell Liam,” Chad said.
Her brother, the overprotective former Green Beret, would go bananas and Helen couldn’t allow it. He and his new wife Maggie were in Tahiti, celebrating their marriage. Liam was happy for the first time in a very long while, in spite of the condition which was gradually stripping away his hearing. Ever since they were children, Liam had made Helen his number-one priority. It was time for him to do that for his new wife. She fixed Chad with her sternest look. “Don’t you dare tell him.”
Chad looked as though he’d swallowed something prickly. “Don’t like secrets.”
“I’ll explain it all when he gets back. Promise.”
Chad arched an eyebrow. “Gonna skin us both for keeping things from him.”