Colton Christmas Protector

by Beth Cornelison

  “Right here. Keep your pants on.” Zane sauntered in from the back of the house near the kitchen with his fiancée, Mirabella, beside him. His half brother carried a large sandwich and seemed irked to have his meal interrupted. “So what’s this urgent meeting about?”

  “I’ll tell you when everyone is here.”

  “Zane, you’re getting that all over the imported rug!” Whitney squawked, flapping a hand toward the bits of lettuce and mayo dripping out the back of Zane’s Dagwood-worthy meal. “At least get a plate.”

  Zane sent his mother a flat look, turned to an accent table where an antique pitcher and wash bowl were displayed, and held the wash bowl under his sandwich. “Happy?”

  Whitney gasped her indignation. “Zane! You can’t—”

  “Mother, please,” Reid said in a loud, firm tone. “Forget the sandwich.”

  Fowler arrived through the door from the foyer about the same time Alanna and Jake shuffled in from the back of the house. Reid gave Fowler a disgusted look. “You weren’t even at the office?”

  His oldest brother, dressed in his signature tailored suit and Stetson, straightened his tie and dismissed Reid with a haughty sneer. “I’m headed there as soon as this little chitchat of yours is over, so—” he waved his fingers “—get on with it.”

  With a glance around to make sure everyone was assembled and paying attention, and giving T.C.’s boots a kick to rouse him, Reid began. “I have evidence that Hugh Barrington may be involved with Eldridge’s disappearance.”

  Piper gasped, lowering her phone for the first time to gape at him. “But he’s the one who saw—”

  “I know what he said he saw,” Reid interrupted. “But, remember, the burned body proved not to be Eldridge, and nothing about his previous supposed sighting has been confirmed.”

  Confused looks were exchanged among his siblings. His mother blinked and shook her head. “Reid, what are you implying?”

  “I’m not implying anything. I’m saying it outright. A few days ago, Hugh’s daughter contacted me about some files she found, hidden in the wall of her late husband’s office.”

  “Penelope?” T.C. asked.

  “Of course, Penelope, moron. He only has one daughter,” Fowler groused.

  Undeterred by Fowler’s sniping, Zane turned to Mirabella and explained who Penelope and Andrew were and gave her the abridged version of Andrew’s death and the unproven accusations against Reid.

  “So Penelope found some files...” Fowler prompted, impatiently waving his hand.

  Reid recounted what Andrew’s files revealed, how he and Pen had searched her father’s office and computer, and how they’d been shot at soon after.

  “Dear God, Reid!” Whitney cried, sitting forward and clapping her hand to her mouth in dismay. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Could you ID the shooter?” T.C. asked.

  “No and no.” He went on to explain how the evidence they’d found in Hugh’s computer and safe showed Barrington had been swindling the Coltons and other clients for years.

  “That rat bastard!” Alanna fumed.

  Fowler cursed under his breath. “So it’s not enough he finagled his way into Eldridge’s will. That he stole our inheritance and control of the family business. He’s been stealing from us for years?”

  T.C. frowned and rubbed his chin. “Hang on, Fowler. Hear him out.” Then to Reid, he asked, “What are you doing about it? Have you reported him to the police?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why not?” Whitney gasped, her hands balled tightly at her sides.

  “I’m still gathering the right kind of evidence to take to the police. I don’t want them to have any reason to boggle this or allow him to wiggle off the hook.”

  T.C. nodded. “Exactly.”

  “In my investigation of his internet history,” he continued, “I also found proof that his computer was used to research faking a person’s death. He’d searched for old news stories about bodies being stolen from funeral homes and how burned bodies would be identified.”

  “Hugh set up the burned body we thought was Dridgey-pooh?” Whitney asked, pressing a hand to her throat and looking ill.

  “We already knew the medical examiner was paid off to lie and say the body was Father,” Alanna said.

  Reid nodded his agreement. “Right, but we didn’t know who paid him off. Until now. I found proof in his bank records he sent the ME money before the guy disappeared.”

  “He wanted us to think Eldridge had died?” Piper asked. “Why? I thought he was father’s friend?”

  “To get the will read,” Zane supplied darkly. “I’m beginning to think he wasn’t as surprised by his inheritance as he wanted us to think.”

  “I knew it,” Fowler grumbled, slamming a hand on the back of the settee where Whitney sat. “I’ll bury him!” He pulled his phone out and began jabbing the screen, his jaw tight.

  “Hold on!” Reid put his hand over Fowler’s cell phone. “Don’t be rash and tip him off that we’re onto him. There’s more at stake here than just Eldridge’s will and control of Colton Inc.”

  “You think he killed Dridgey-pooh?” Whitney squeaked, her eyes damp with tears.

  Reid hesitated, startled anew by Whitney’s reaction. For years she’d endured the stigma of being a gold digger, but her distress seemed real.

  “That’s what it’s beginning to sound like to me.” Zane finished his sandwich in one big bite and dusted crumbs from his hands.

  “But if Father is dead, why not just produce his real body?” Piper asked. “Why fake his death and go to the lengths of stealing a burned body to pass off as Eldridge?”

  T.C. grunted. “Good point.”

  “There’s more,” Reid said, taking the reins of the meeting again. “Hugh also researched fatal doses of potassium chloride.”

  “Potassium chloride? What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Fowler asked.

  “For one thing, the internet search was made about a month before I gave Andrew what I thought was an injection of insulin.” When his siblings exchanged dubious looks, Reid added. “Potassium chloride is what they found in the vial I used.”

  “Whoa.” T.C. plowed fingers through his hair and flopped back on the formal couch. “So you think Hugh could’ve been involved with his son-in-law’s death, too?”

  “I do.”

  “Involved? Hell, if he planted a fatal chemical in Andrew’s insulin vial, that’s intent. That’s premeditated murder,” Zane said, his voice taut with anger.

  “He had opportunity. Pen says he had access to Andrew’s insulin vials to tamper with them. He could have withdrawn the insulin and filled the vial with potassium chloride concentrate when he visited their house. Or planted a bottle he’d tampered with before visiting. All he had to do then was sit back and wait for Andrew to inject himself with the fatal dose. Unfortunately for me, I administered the shot that killed him.”

  “Wait,” Cord interrupted, raising a hand, “Pardon my asking, but if they found potassium chloride in the vial you used and you admitted to administering the shot...” He divided an awkward look between Piper and Reid, his unspoken question obvious.

  “Why wasn’t I arrested?” Reid finished for him. “Because I passed a polygraph saying I didn’t know the real contents of the vial, that I had been trying to save Andrew, not hurt him. Because, ironically, Hugh Barrington went to bat for me, shooting down most of the department’s supposed evidence against me.”

  “Because he’s a Colton,” Fowler said with his characteristic arrogance, “and the DA office knew better than try to ramrod a flimsy case against a Colton. He’d have been humiliated in court by our lawyers, and Eldridge would have seen the man’s career was ruined.”

  Cord glanced to Piper and arched a dark eyebrow.

&nbs
p; Reid pinched his nose, ashamed to admit there was probably a great deal of truth to Fowler’s claim.

  Piper lifted her chin and patted Cord on the chest. “Because he didn’t do it.”

  Reid twitched a half smile to Piper in appreciation of her support, then turned back to the rest of the family. “My point is, I’m working several different angles at this point. Hugh seems to have hidden a lot of dirty dealings and unsavory connections. He had a fake passport and a large sum of money in his home safe—”

  “A getaway stash,” Cord, a bounty hunter familiar with such activity, confirmed.

  “Right.” Reid rubbed his chin, trying to gather his thoughts for their next move.

  “So Father’s scum-sucking attorney has not only cheated us for years,” Fowler began, his face growing florid as he ticked the items off on his fingers, “tried to convince us someone killed Eldridge—”

  Whitney mewled a soft squeak of distress.

  “—forged a fake will to give himself control of our company, and set up the murder of his son-in-law, which you got caught up in—but you want us to do nothing about it?” Fowler scoffed loudly and bitterly. “I guess I can see now why you were booted from the force.”

  “I wasn’t booted. I left by choice,” Reid defended, feeling like a cantankerous child even as he corrected his half brother. He was sick to death of defending his departure from the police department.

  At least Pen seemed to believe him. Now. No one else’s opinion really mattered to him. “And I didn’t say we were going to do nothing. I just have to gather more evidence against Barrington, get my facts straight and all the pieces and directions of this case worked out before we go to the police. I want to turn over an airtight case to the DA, have all our proof lined out, so the jerk can’t weasel his way out when confronted with what we’ve learned.” He paused, sending a sweeping glance around the room.

  “Um...” Cord said, scratching his chin, his brow furrowed deeply. “I hate to rain on your parade, but as an ex-cop, you do understand Barrington can claim the evidence you’ve collected was obtained illegally. It won’t hold up in court.”

  A round of grumbles rose among his siblings, and he waved them down. “Of course I’ve considered that. But when I do talk to the DA, he’ll be able to get search warrants for Barrington’s home, office and computer. We’ll subpoena people who can testify to everything we’ve found.

  “There are ways to bring him to justice without the stuff I attained. It was a calculated risk, yes. But I have a plan.”

  Zane straightened, his eyes brightening with the fire of a challenge. “What do you have in mind? How can I help?”

  “Thanks for the offer, but you and I are out, except in the background. He knows our law-enforcement connections and instincts.” Reid turned to his oldest brother. “Fowler, you up for a little espionage work?”

  Fowler’s eyes narrowed viciously. “Let me at him. What do I do?”

  “Fowler?” Marceline squawked. “You trust him to get evidence against Hugh?”

  “I have to echo her skepticism, man,” T.C. said, giving Fowler a dubious glance. “He’s hardly subtle. Maybe I could—”

  “Thanks,” Reid interrupted, “but it’s because of his reputation as a blowhard that I want to use him. He’s the person Hugh will least suspect as cooperating with the family or police on a sting.”

  Fowler gave his family a sour, petty frown. “Are you kidding? Not subtle? Man, I’ve schmoozed and sweet-talked more men in business deals than I can count. Fortune 500 business leaders come into my office thinking they’re going to strong-arm me, and I negotiate terms that have them all but eating out of my hand. How do you think our company grew as big as it has?”

  Alanna snorted wryly. “Down, boy. You’ve got the job.”

  T.C. shook his head. “Yeah, okay, just don’t screw it up, all right?”

  Fowler’s hand gesture sent T.C. an unspoken, and crude, reply.

  “I need you to cozy up to Barrington. Make him think that, in light of Eldridge’s supposed will, you want to partner with him in running the company. That you want to help him transition into a position of more authority and—”

  “What?” Whitney shot to her feet, shaking her head. “You just said this beast is responsible for all kinds of terrible things and you want Fowler to help him steal the company from us?”

  “Pay attention, Mother,” Piper said. “It’ll be an act. He’s gonna try to trick Barrington. Am I right?”

  Reid jerked a nod and, her indignation appeased, Whitney took her seat again, pouting.

  “So butter him up, and...” Fowler waved a hand.

  “Finagle any information you can. See if you can get him to trap himself with contradictory statements. Back him into corners and see how he extricates himself. And record everything. Your phone has that capacity, doesn’t it?”

  “Um...” Cord sat forward again and raised a finger.

  Reid acknowledged him with a nod. “If you meet in his office or yours, Fowler, legally, you have to let him know you’re recording.”

  “But a conversation in public, say at a restaurant or park, doesn’t meet the same standard for expected privacy.” Cord lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Just sayin’.”

  “So what do you think?” Reid faced Fowler, giving him a level stare. “Think you can weasel information out of Hugh without tipping him off?”

  Fowler gave him a smug grin and adjusted his tie. “Oh, you can count on it.”

  Chapter 14

  That evening after Nicholas was asleep, Penelope joined Reid in the living room where he sat with his head leaned back on the couch, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, settling next to him. She sat close enough for her thigh to touch his, well aware of what had happened—or almost happened—on this same couch just a couple days earlier. Was she tempting fate, cozying up to him tonight? Of course. Was a sexual tryst with Reid Colton what she wanted? On that matter, her mind vacillated. Oh, she wanted Reid. She knew sleeping with him would be pure pleasure. But in her heart of hearts, she wanted to make love to him, not just have mind-blowing sex. She wanted meaning and commitment and...all the things she feared Reid could never offer her.

  She wanted...to be wanted. To be valued. To be needed. And how could a man who wanted for nothing, who had the world at his feet, who could snare any blonde bombshell at whom he crooked his finger, possibly need anything she had to give?

  And yet the instinct in her to help, to heal, to care drew her to him tonight, wanting to ease whatever distress had his mouth drawn tight, his gaze distant and his brow creased.

  When he didn’t answer her query, she put a hand on his knee and jostled him. “Earth to Reid. What’s going on? Wanna talk about it?”

  He angled his head and slanted a look at her. “Just thinking about...everything.”

  His vague response needled her. His generic answer was just another form of evasion, of keeping her at arm’s length.

  She gave a wry snort. “Oh, good. Only everything. I was afraid it was something specific.”

  He arched a sandy-brown eyebrow that told her he heard the bitterness in her tone. After another moment of quiet, he said, “So I talked to the family today.”

  “And?”

  He rose from the sofa and stalked over to the wet bar to uncork a bottle of wine they’d started at dinner. He refilled both of their glasses and carried them back to the sofa. “They were predictably upset with Hugh’s betrayal.”

  She exhaled heavily as she took her glass from him. “Why does that make me feel...guilty? Like I should share some of the blame?”

  He shook his head as he scowled. “Don’t even go there. Nothing your father has done is your fault.”

  “I know that. It’s just a guilt-by-association
thing. He’s my father, so I hate how that paints me thanks to my relation to him.” She clutched her wineglass tighter, an acid fury and frustration with her father seething in her gut. “Even though I saw how he treated my mother when she was sick, it just shocks me, galls me to think my father could be so...greedy. So—” she waved her free hand, trying to find the right word “—so cold toward his own flesh and blood. And then I pray in my next breath such selfishness and heartlessness aren’t hereditary. I’d hate to think Nicholas, despite my best efforts to the contrary, could turn out so morally bankrupt by some cruel trick of nature over nurture.”

  She sipped her wine, her gaze meeting Reid’s over the rim of her glass. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to reply, but then pressed his lips in a taut line, his sandy brown eyebrows drawing into a frown over a keen blue stare.

  “Reid? What is it? What were you going to say?”

  He flashed a fake smile. “Nothing.”

  She huffed her irritation with his continued distancing tactics. “Reid, talk to me. I hate it when you shut me out like that!”

  He gave her a negligent shrug. “Just...agreeing your dad is a piece of work. And to say I seriously doubt Nicholas will be anything like Hugh Barrington.” He gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. “Not with you for his mother.”

  “So you don’t think heredity can trump environment?” She tilted her head, pondering the awful possibilities. “What if my father is the way he is because of some genetically controlled mental illness? What if Nicholas got some gene for—”

  “Pen, no.” Reid shook his head and gave her an odd, guilty-looking grin.

  “I’m just saying...he could have.”

  He shook his head harder. “No, he couldn’t. Just...trust me on this?”

  She cocked her head farther to the side, studying his peculiar expression. He seemed unable to meet her gaze now, and that alone spoke of some deception or compunction on his part. A tickle of uneasiness quivered in her gut.

  “Reid? Tell me.”

  His expression grew pained, but he still refused to look at her.