to kill me Saturday night.”
Leaning back in the old leather chair he’d bought at a secondhand store when he’d first opened his own office, Austin sat up straighter with a frown. “I know,” he said, recognizing his foster uncle’s voice immediately. “Dad told me about it. I’ve been meaning to call you, but I got tied up in a case and had to make a quick trip to Vancouver. How’s the investigation going? Dad said half of California was there, so there must have been plenty of witnesses. Have the police made an arrest yet?”
Joe snorted at that. “They’re a bunch of bumbling idiots. It’s been a week since the shooting and they still don’t have a clue what they’re doing. Which is why I’m calling. I need you to come down and find out who tried to kill me.”
Austin wasn’t crazy about going to California. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Joe or sympathize with his situation—he’d just never had much to do with the Colton side of the family. With their money and political clout, they were almost like the Kennedys of the West Coast. They even lived on an estate like the Hyannis Port compound, for God’s sake!
Austin grimaced just at the thought of it. He had little interest in living that kind of high-profile existence and much preferred his quiet lifestyle in Portland. Unfortunately, he couldn’t, in good conscience, refuse to come to Joe’s aid because he didn’t care for all the flash and glitter that went hand in hand with the Coltons. Joe and his father were brothers, though they shared no blood, and they’d always been there for each other. For his father’s sake—and the fact that he couldn’t stand by and let some bastard get away with trying to murder anyone, let alone his uncle—he, too, had to be there for him.
“I need to wrap up a few things here and arrange for a friend to take over the office for me for a couple of weeks,” he replied. “If everything goes all right, I should be able to fly down late tomorrow. How does that sound?”
Relieved, Joe sighed, and it was that, more than anything, that told Austin just how rattled his uncle was. “Great,” Joe said. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this. You’ll stay at the house, of course. I’ll have Meredith prepare the guest room for you—”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Austin said honestly.
He was more than willing to do whatever he could for Joe, but he drew the line at staying at the estate. From what his father had told him, there was no such thing as a quiet evening at home with the Coltons and he didn’t know how Joe stood it. There were always several guests for dinner, not to mention business dinners several times a week and the socializing that never seemed to end. And while he knew he would have to endure some of that in order to conduct his investigation, Austin had no intention of suffering through any more of it than he had to. At the end of a long, hard day, he preferred the peace and quiet of his own company, not polite chitchat with a house full of strangers.
That wasn’t, however, something he could tell Joe without being rude, so he said tactfully, “The investigation needs to be unbiased. It’ll be easier to remain objective if I stay at a hotel.”
Far from being offended, Joe saw right through his excuse and only chuckled. “I should have known you’d want to get a place of your own. You always did like to go your own way.”
Grinning, Austin didn’t deny it. He’d always been something of a rebel, and he made no apologies for it. Unlike the rest of the family, who all seemed to work for Joe in one capacity or another, he’d never had any desire to work for Colton Enterprises. Instead, after a stint in the Navy, he’d joined the Portland police department and worked his way up to detective. A shoot-out with drug dealers eventually ended that, but he still hadn’t turned to Joe for a job. He liked police work and opened his own detective agency, instead. Like Joe, he liked being his own boss.
“Guilty as charged,” he retorted. “I’m just more comfortable that way, especially when I’m working. I like to be able to move around without answering to anyone.”
“Hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me or apologize,” Joe said quickly. “Your dad says you’re damn good at this P.I. stuff, so do whatever you have to do. You won’t hear any complaints from me.”
“Fair enough,” Austin said. “I’ll call you when I get into town.”
Hanging up, he sat back in his chair and frowned down at the quick notes he’d made as Joe told him about the shooting. The details were sketchy—he’d get the rest of the facts when he got to town—but one thing was clear: Someone Joe knew and loved wanted him dead. But who?
The Colton estate near Prosperino, California, was called the Hacienda del Alegria—the House of Joy—and it gave every appearance of being just that. Situated in a beautiful valley, the large sand-colored adobe house faced the mountains in the distance and backed up to the ocean, offering spectacular views from every direction.
As a child, Austin had loved coming there. There was the ranch to explore, as well as the ocean, and then there was the house, itself. Built with two wings that jutted off the main section, it was a home, not just a house, thanks to Meredith. Back then, she’d had no interest in being a society queen, just a wife and mother, and she’d made sure the house was comfortably decorated and filled with children. She’d even done much of the gardening around the main house herself, and in the process, she’d created a lush tropical paradise that everyone had loved.
It had been years since Austin had been there, but the minute he drove down the lane to the house, he could see that it wasn’t the same as he remembered from his childhood. Oh, the house was the same structurally, but the grounds were professionally landscaped now and looked just like any other rich man’s estate.
And so did the house itself. The second the housekeeper, Inez, who had been with the family as long as Austin could remember, opened the door for him, he could see that this wasn’t the home he’d always enjoyed visiting when he was a child. It was too formal. In a single glance, Austin noted the expensive decor that had replaced the once comfortable furnishings that had made the house so welcoming in the past. The inviting home he remembered now appeared to be just a showcase for the Colton wealth. And that was a shame.
When he greeted Inez, however, none of his thoughts were reflected in his smile. “It’s been a long time, Inez. I don’t have to ask if Marco’s been taking care of you. You look wonderful.”
At the mention of her husband, who was the head groundskeeper, her pretty black eyes twinkled merrily. “Marco’s a smart man,” she replied. “He knows I’m the best thing that every happened to him.” Sobering, she confided, “Mr. Joe will be glad you’re here. These last few days haven’t been easy for him.”
“No, I don’t imagine they have. I’ll need to talk to you later about that, okay?”
“Any time, Mr. Austin. I was just about to start supper. You’re family. You know the way, right?”
It had been years, but Austin could have found Joe’s study blindfolded in the dark. “Sure. Thanks.”
Located down the hall from the living room, the study was decorated just as Austin remembered—with a huge oak desk and big, comfortable leather chairs, and books everywhere. Pleased that that much had stayed the same, at least, Austin grinned at the sight of his uncle scowling at his computer screen. It had been years since he’d seen him but he was still one good-looking son of a gun. At sixty, he was strong and athletic in spite of the gray that peppered his dark brown hair.
“Watch it, Unc,” he teased. “Frowning like that’s going
