to do something like that on Main Street, then he was probably aware of the position of the camera. Still, they might get lucky. If not, maybe someone had even seen the person and could give them a description.
Egan hooked his arm around her and got her moving to his office, which was at the back of the squad room. Once he had her there, he practically sat her in the chair next to his desk, then got her a bottle of water from his fridge.
She’d been in this office many times—when it’d been her father’s, and then for the past four years since it was Egan’s. It hadn’t changed in, well, forever. Same desk. Same filing cabinet. Same fridge.
The picture was there on the wall, of course. A photo of Egan, Court, her and their late brother, Warren Jr.—or W.J. as folks had called him. W.J. had been dead for nearly a decade now. Shot and killed in the line of duty when he’d been a deputy sheriff on call at a domestic dispute that had turned deadly.
The pain and grief from losing him felt as fresh as if she’d just lost him hours ago instead of all those years. That was the picture she had in her head. Her brother dead. His life cut much too short because he’d been wearing a badge and trying to do the right thing.
And that was the reason Rachel had sworn she would never fall for a cop.
That included a Texas Ranger like Griff.
“Tell me about this dirtbag who’s riled at you,” Egan insisted.
That was his big-brother tone, and it caused her to sigh. Egan had always been protective of her, which was why he often shot Griff scowling looks. Like now. Neither their father nor Egan had ever thought Griff was the right man for her. And he wasn’t. He’d proved that last month.
“His name is Marlon Stowe,” Rachel answered, after she had a long sip of the water. “His folks own the inn where I was staying, and he works part-time in the office there. He believes I’m responsible for his girlfriend leaving him. I suppose I am,” she added.
“I’ve already requested a background check on him,” Griff explained. “I’m waiting on a call about him now.” He took out his phone and showed her the photo on the screen. “That’s the guy, right?”
She nodded. It was Marlon’s DMV photo that Griff had apparently gotten in that text. “His hair’s a little lighter in this picture than it was the last time I saw him.” Marlon definitely didn’t look like a cowboy. He had the clean and polished appearance of a businessman. One with a tense edge to him.
“Checking out Marlon is a good start,” Rachel continued. “He gives me the creeps, but he hasn’t been around the inn for the last week or so. Plus, he’s never been...actually physically aggressive. He just made it very clear that he was furious with me because I convinced his girlfriend to leave him.” She paused. “You’re sure our half brother or our father’s mistress isn’t behind this?”
Griff quickly shook his head. “Your half brother is a cop. And no, there’s no indication whatsoever that he’s dirty. His name is Raleigh Lawton, by the way. He’s a county sheriff.”
She knew that. Rachel hadn’t been able to resist looking him up online. “We’re certain Raleigh is really Warren’s son?”
“Warren says he is,” Griff confirmed. “Raleigh refused to have a DNA test. He wants nothing to do with Warren, your brothers or you.”
Rachel didn’t fault him for that, since she felt the same way about Warren. “How about his mother then?”
Her name was Alma Lawton. Rachel knew plenty about her, too, but it wasn’t plenty enough to understand why her father had carried on an affair with the woman and had a child with her.
“I’ve already called Alma,” Court said. “She’ll be in first thing in the morning for questioning.”
Rachel was betting the woman wouldn’t care much for that, and it almost certainly wasn’t the first time her brothers or Griff had brought the woman in. No. Because Alma was once a person of interest in her father’s shooting and could have been connected to the actual shooter, Whitney. After all, Alma had been his mistress for years, and it was possible she’d just gotten tired of waiting for Warren to leave his family for her.
But that wasn’t motive for Alma to go after one of Warren’s kids.
Was it?
Maybe if the woman wanted to punish Warren, she might believe that was the way to do it. But there were a lot of “ifs” in that theory. It was possible that Alma was the one who’d ended the longtime affair, and if so, that would mean she didn’t have a motive for what was going on.
“We haven’t told Mom about the attack,” Court went on. “We thought that was best, considering.”
Yes, considering that their mother was in a mental hospital. That was something else she could thank her father for doing. Hearing the news of her husband’s affair and his other life had sent Helen over the edge.
“I won’t say anything when I talk to her,” Rachel assured them. Which would be soon. Rachel had been calling her every day for the past month, and she wouldn’t miss the call tomorrow, either.
“You haven’t asked about Dad,” Egan said. He didn’t wait for her to respond. “He got out of the hospital about two weeks ago, and he’s upset that you ran off before he had a chance to explain.”
Rachel could practically feel her blood pressure soaring. “Well, you can tell him I’m upset that he couldn’t be faithful to his wife.”
She didn’t bother to take the venom out of her voice but hated that she’d aimed it at Egan. Court was more of the forgiving sort and had probably worked out a way to make amends with Warren, but Egan was likely just as bitter about this as she was. The difference was that he hadn’t left.
Egan grunted in agreement and tipped his head to Griff, sending another scowl his way. “Griff told us what happened between you two the night Dad was shot. That you landed in bed for comfort sex.”
Rachel snapped toward Griff so fast that her neck popped. She was certain she was scowling at him now.
“I thought they needed to hear what’d happened,” Griff said, his mouth tight. “I wanted them to know that you might have left because of me and not Warren.”
“I left because of both of you,” she snapped. And intended to say a whole lot more to Griff—in private.
Mercy. He had no right to tell her family about that.
“I’m guessing it’s over between Griff and you?” Egan asked.
“Yes.” Rachel snapped that response, too.
And she scowled at Egan when he gave her that big-brother look again. Egan didn’t have to come out and say it, but she felt a mental lecture coming on. One where he would say something about hoping she’d remembered to practice safe sex. She had.
Or rather, Griff had.
They’d used a condom, but with the way her life had been going, she’d taken a pregnancy test two weeks later just in case. It’d been negative. So at least her mistake of sleeping with Griff hadn’t resulted in a pregnancy.
The
