dragged away from the hospital where he’s lying in a coma, from the rest of your family, and treated like a suspect?”
She wouldn’t know. Her father hadn’t been murdered. But her brother had. Not that anyone believed her about that yet. Another case she had to solve.
One she was actively working, albeit secretly, and determined to prove.
“Do you want whoever shot Payne to be caught and pay for what he or she did?” She looked him straight in the eye—to show him she could. That he had no hold over her whatsoever.
“Of course.”
“Then you need to let me do my job,” she told him. “And that means I look at every possibility and talk to anyone and everyone for whom I have questions.”
Which didn’t include him.
Although she could see him siding with Ace. Sympathizing with him. After all, now neither of them were able to hold the coveted CEO position of Colton Oil, since neither of them were biological Coltons.
“Kerry, please, I want to…”
She shook her head. Glanced at the small, big box store watch her father and brother had bought her for her sixteenth birthday. Her dad had forgotten to get a battery and had been too drunk to drive the ten miles into town to get one. Since she hadn’t been allowed to take her driving test yet, and Tyler was only eleven, she’d worn the watch for almost a week before it actually told the correct time.
It hadn’t been wrong since.
“I really have to get back, Mr. Colton,” she said. “This case isn’t going to solve itself and I’m the only detective working on it. I’ll be sure to call your stepmother as soon as I have anything to share with you all.”
Maybe she should have asked him how Payne was doing. She already knew. She’d called the hospital that morning to hear that there’d been no change in the older man. Each day he remained in a coma had to lessen his chances of coming out of it. Asking still would have been polite.
And had it been any other Colton…
Turning, she left Rafe standing there, her back ramrod straight as she walked, feeling the heat of his gaze all over her body.
He’d had more to say. She’d read his intent.
Had seen the sorrow in his gaze. The regret.
And absolutely could not stand there and take it.
Sometimes, no matter how much someone might have to offer, it really was too little, too late.
A smart man would cut his losses. Tuck the regret so far away it would eventually fade into oblivion. Do whatever it took to help his family through both crisis and tragedy: one followed by the other in the space of mere hours.
He was the financial wizard. The one they all looked to for levelheaded, clear thinking. The mathematician who could figure out the way to make everything add up.
But nothing was adding up.
DNA proving that Ace wasn’t a Colton? It made no sense. Seriously, a baby getting switched at birth? A sick one for a healthy one? No formula was going to be able to calculate that one.
And to think, even for a second, that Ace was capable of shooting Payne? Sure, he’d been pissed that Payne had removed him as CEO, but he’d also known that killing Payne wasn’t going to help his cause any. Payne had only been following Colton Oil bylaws, appointing a CEO who was a biological Colton, to protect the company. It hadn’t been about Ace, but about keeping their billions safe. He knew Ace wanted that as badly as any of them. Would have stepped down himself if he’d been given a few days to come to terms with everything. Ace lived for Colton Oil and was surely more pissed at the fact that his whole life had been stolen from him, pissed at whoever had switched him at birth, pissed at fate.
And, as far as Rafe could see, Ace adored Payne Colton, if such a thing were possible.
Rafe had never found it so, in spite of the years he’d spent trying.
So what was it about him that drove him to give himself impossible tasks? To set himself up for emotional failure? Because that was certainly what he was doing, knowingly doing, as he parked his fancy new metallic navy blue truck out in front of Kerry’s small, but nicely landscaped stucco home that afternoon before heading back to the ranch.
His own, much more opulent home was waiting for him. It was full of food brought over by one of the mansion staff and left in his refrigerator, as was procedure any night that he didn’t present himself at the family table for dinner. And whether he made it back to the ranch on time that night or not, he wasn’t going to dinner. The staff had always spoiled him. Possibly because when Tessa Ainsley Colton died, his upbringing had been largely left to those running the household.
Payne’s first wife was the only reason Rafe had become a Colton. Carter had been such a vital part of their lives for so long, had lost his wife right there on the ranch from valley fever, and Tessa Colton had insisted that the family take in Rafe. Payne had argued with her about it, which he wasn’t supposed to know, and no one knew he knew. He’d gone to see Tessa one night and had heard them. And had gone back to his room and cried himself to sleep. He’d worried about what was going to happen to him and then, suddenly, he was told he was going to be a Colton. Obviously, Payne had eventually given in. Then Tessa had died and Payne’s second wife, Selina, hadn’t given a rat’s ass about the little orphaned boy.
He wasn’t even sure how many of the siblings would be at dinner that night. They were taking shifts sitting with Payne at the hospital. He’d done his stint before going to see Kerry that morning.
A light was on in her front window, though it was only four in the afternoon. The garage door was shut. There were no vehicles in the driveway. He didn’t pull in. Leaving his parked truck at the curb, he approached the front door. She could still refuse to talk to him. He wouldn’t blame her.
She could threaten him with a restraining order if he didn’t leave her alone. It wasn’t like she’d have to call the cops. She was the cop.
And still, he lifted his hand to knock.
She’d been over the files again and again. Had a wall in her dining room covered with a huge ten-year calendar, chronicling her brother’s life from the time he’d graduated high school until his death. All of the jobs he’d had were marked with color-coded dots for the months or years he’d worked them. The bills he’d paid, banking transactions, times when she’d found nothing to account for his whereabouts. No credit card charges because he hadn’t had any cards. And she only had phone calls from logging into his account because she hadn’t had a warrant.
Next to the calendar was a smaller one, covering the two-year span before Tyler’s death. It showed what she could find of the activity of Odin Rogers, a slick local criminal who had his hands in many dirty dealings—seriously dirty, Kerry suspected, like drug running and maybe weapons, too. Yet he managed to always skate free of any charges against him. Also, in
