“Just give me the report.” Logan held out his hand and kept his voice under control. It wasn’t Jillie’s fault that he was in a piss-poor mood today, although her strange behavior wasn’t helping. “Give it to me and go.”
She looked undecided but finally handed the paper to him before slinking out the door and closing it behind her. It must be something bad as his door normally stayed wide open so he could hear the comings and goings in the office. Bill Bryson must have been shot by someone whose gun was in the system. Perhaps someone who was wanted for another murder.
Logan settled his big body into the comfortable old leather chair behind his desk and propped his feet on its surface. He scanned the report and felt his heart almost stop in his chest as he read. The black type seemed to blur on the page before coming back into focus. He blindly reached for the phone and punched in some numbers hoping like hell Tanner would answer.
“Tanner Marks.”
Logan swung his legs down and sat up in the chair. “It’s me, Logan. Listen, I need to talk to you. Shit, I still can’t believe this.”
“Believe what?” Tanner asked. “What’s going on? You sound shaken.”
Logan sure as shit wasn’t feeling good. He kept reading the ballistics report over and over but it never changed.
“You know about the Bryson murder here in Corville, right? I told you about it.”
“Sure. Bill Bryson, shot in his own home during the reception of his son’s wedding. Have you found your killer?”
“Kind of.” Logan leaned back in the chair, his mind whirling with questions. “According to the state lab, Bill Bryson was killed with the same firearm as a string of unsolved murders.”
“Holy shit. We have a string of unsolved murders in Montana? Since when?”
“It’s the vigilante, Tanner. The vigilante killed Bill Bryson.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Finally Tanner responded, his voice low. “Are you sure? I thought you said this Bryson guy was pillar of the community stuff. Why would the vigilante go after him? His MO is taking out the scum of the earth, not rich businessmen.”
“Apparently things have changed. Or not. Maybe Bill was into something we don’t know about.”
“Drugs? Did he beat his wife? Shit, the vigilante is usually quite particular about his victims. He likes to take out the ones few people mourn.”
“Bill’s wife did die under mysterious circumstances but that was twenty years ago. I doubt it has anything to do with what’s going on now,” Logan replied. He remembered the boxes of old records in the attic that had belonged to Sheriff Frank Jesse. He’d never paid them any attention before but now he knew he needed to bring them down to the main level of the house and look through them. Ava would be a great help in this task.
He mentally shook his head. He wouldn’t be asking Ava for any help after last night. He turned his attention back to the phone call.
“Was Bryson ever a suspect?” Tanner asked. “About anything?”
“I don’t know. Fuck, I was just a kid then. As far as I know, Bill Bryson hasn’t done anything wrong. I don’t think he’s ever been arrested. Why would the vigilante break his pattern and murder Bill?”
Tanner cleared his throat. “Do you think it’s personal? Maybe Bryson knew this guy and they had a disagreement? We’ve talked about how the vigilante must know someone in the area and was getting their information from them. Maybe Bryson was going to turn him in?”
Logan shook his head although Tanner couldn’t see him. “Bryson was a businessman through and through. How would he get mixed up with the vigilante? It doesn’t make sense.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. The last few minutes had tilted his world on its axis. “I’m going to need your help. Everyone’s help.”
“I’ll call the other guys. Sounds like we need an emergency meeting,” Tanner replied.
The meeting would be a gathering of Logan and five other sheriffs he knew in the area. They were all small town lawmen who had banded together to share information and help one another. It had made them exponentially more effective at their jobs.
“The sooner the better,” Logan agreed. “Name the date and the time. I’ll be there.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I get it set up. I know you don’t want to hear this, Logan, but this could be the break we’ve been waiting for. If there is some connection between the vigilante and Bryson we might be able to catch this guy. Finally.”
“I wish a good man didn’t have to be dead if that’s what you’re implying. I hope you’re not saying that I don’t want to see this guy behind bars. I do.”
“That wasn’t what I was saying at all. I know you respect law and order. You’re just not fond of rules, that’s all.” He heard Tanner chuckle.
“Rules were meant to be broken, my friend. Call me or Jillie and let her know the meeting time, okay? In the meantime, I’ll keep you in the loop if anything else comes up.”
They hung up and Logan stared at the phone. His gut didn’t like what was going on at all. Usually murderers killed for one of a few reasons. Money, love, or revenge.
Which one was this?
* * * *
Later that day, Logan slammed the door shut on his old pickup truck and paused in the driveway of the Bryson estate. Yesterday he’d been surprised to get a call from Deke Kennedy, the Bryson family lawyer. Logan’s presence was requested today for the reading of the will. He couldn’t imagine why he was needed there but Deke had insisted. Perhaps Bill had left everything to the county animal shelter, and Deke was expecting a family rumble to break out. Logan inwardly chuckled at the image of Wade, Lyle, Aaron, and George beating on each other with sofa cushions.
Pressing the doorbell, Logan looked around the grounds. It was a sunny day but there was no activity outside the home. Whatever was going on, the action was inside. The door opened and Deke was standing there with an apologetic smile. Deke was on the wrong side of sixty with thinning hair and sagging jowls. His brown suit always looked rumpled whether you saw him at eight in the morning or late at night.
“Logan, I’m glad you could be here. Come on in.” Deke stood back and let Logan enter.
Logan pulled off his hat and followed Deke back to an oak lined office dominated by a large desk. Logan knew it had been Bill Bryson’s office from the million and a half times Logan had been in this house. At one time, it had almost been a second home.
“You said one o’clock so here I am. Where is everyone?”
Deke pulled at his tie and sighed. “They went to lunch in town. I sent them. The reading of the will is actually at two. I wanted you here early.”
Logan had had enough with the mystery and games. He leaned forward, placing his palms on the desk, and looked Deke right in the eye. “Why the hell am I here, Deke? Are you expecting trouble at the reading? Is it going to get ugly? Did Bill leave everything to some young floozy?”
Deke flushed and waved a hand toward the leather chair. “Have a seat. Please?”
Logan reined in his impatience and sank into the chair. “Okay, I’m sitting.”
Deke sat on the other side of the desk and shuffled some papers, pulling out a white, legal sized envelope, before clearing his throat. “I do expect some trouble today but not for the reasons you think.” Deke rubbed his chin as if looking for the right words to say. “Bill Bryson was a complicated man. Few people knew him well. I certainly can’t say I knew everything about him, but I did know him and called him a friend for almost thirty years.”
“Congratulations,” Logan drawled, his fingers tapping a beat on his blue jeans. “Can we get to the trouble part?”
Deke rubbed the envelope between his fingers. “Bill thought a great deal of you, Logan. He spoke of you often and how you had grown into a fine man. He was proud of how you handled the early blows you’d been dealt in your life. He was impressed with your military record and then how you took over for Sheriff Jesse.”
Logan sat straighter in the
chair, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t talk about his past. Period. “So? Are you saying he left me something? Whatever it is, I don’t want it. Give it to Wade and his brothers.”
Deke shook his head. “It’s more than that, Logan.” He tugged at his tie again nervously. “I don’t know if you knew this but Bill knew your mother.”
Logan didn’t like the way this conversation was progressing and felt a bar of tension start to grow in his abdomen. He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “It’s a small town. Lots of people knew my mother.”
“They were very good friends,” Deke insisted. “They were…close.”
Logan leaned forward in the chair, his gaze locking with the obviously uncomfortable attorney. “Are you trying to tell me something? Best spit it out now.”
He kept his voice low but his heart pounded in his chest.
Deke pushed the envelope across the desk toward Logan. “I wanted you to have a chance to read this before everyone gets back. In private. When the will gets read in an hour, well, all hell is going to break loose. I knew you’d need a chance to read this and digest it.”
Gritting his teeth, Logan placed his hand on the envelope. “Get out while I read this.”
“Logan, I can help you with this—” began Deke, his voice almost desperate.
“Get out.” Logan’s voice was barely above a whisper but the words seem to register. Deke stood and headed for the door, only pausing for a moment before he exited the room.
“I’ll be right outside the door when you’re done reading the letter,” he said, shutting it softly.
Logan stared at his own name written in bold print on the stark white paper. He finally ripped through the seal and tossed the envelope aside, holding the paper with shaking hands.
Logan,
I write this letter today as you leave for the military. You are in the dining room with my sons having a small party as a sendoff. I thank God we are not at war and you will be safe. I am sure by now you are wondering why you are receiving this letter from me after my death.
This is so hard to write but I know I must tell the truth at last. I met your mother many years ago when your father brought her to this town after they were married. We were all young couples and we all socialized with one another. Jackie was beautiful, a golden girl, with her blonde hair and blue eyes. She was always happy, always humming a tune even when doing simple things like cooking or shopping.
There’s no excuse for what we did. We were both desperately unhappy and we turned to each other. We hurt others and for that I’m sorry. Very sorry. By the time we ended it, our marriages were shattered and any feelings we may have had for one another were torn to pieces.
My biggest regret was that we could never tell you the truth. Please know that I was just as proud of you as my other three children. I watched you grow into a man that anyone would love to have for a son.
But I’m not a courageous man. You must have gotten your bravery from your beautiful mother. I’m weak and when things ended with Jackie she felt it was best to let you go on thinking that John Wright was your father. It seemed the right thing to do at the time. After all, I’d done so many things wrong by then I was desperate to do something good.
My punishment was never being able to tell you the truth. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. You’ll never know the joy I felt as you became best friends with Wade. It was how things should have been. All four of my sons together as a family. I’m sorry again I couldn’t make that happen for you. When your father left, you were all Jackie had left. I couldn’t come between the two of you. She was a good woman and she loved you so much.
But you are just as much my son as Wade, Aaron, or Lyle and because of that you will inherit your share of my estate. At this point, it is the very least I can do to make up for what you lost out on. My hope is this will bring you even closer to my sons, pulling you together as a family.
Protect each other, for in the end, family is all you have. You, Aaron, Wade, and Lyle are my legacy. I know it’s in good hands.
Your father,
William Remington Bryson
June 3rd, 1997
Logan read and re-read the letter until he could have recited every word from memory. Hurt, anger, and other emotions he couldn’t begin to name churned inside of him creating a physical pain that almost brought him to his knees. He was glad he was sitting down as his shaking legs wouldn’t have been able to support his weight. He dragged air into his aching lungs and tried to calm his hammering pulse.
Crumpling up the letter in his tight fist, he cursed as he slumped forward in the chair. His elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands. He never wanted to leave this room and face Deke or anyone else, but staying here was simply not an option. He shoved the balled up letter into his pocket and stood on legs that felt like jelly.
He jammed his hat back on his head and straightened his shoulders. He’d learned early on not to show emotion or weakness. It was better to act like you didn’t give a shit one way or the other. He opened the door and found Deke waiting on the other side, his forehead covered in sweat.
“Does anyone else know?” Logan was surprised the words came out evenly despite the lump in his throat. “Anyone?”
Deke’s throat bobbed. “George. No one else.” He reached out but Logan dodged the comforting hand on his arm. That wasn’t going to make anything better. His world had been ripped apart in a matter of minutes. Everything he’d thought was true was now in question. “The family will be here soon for the reading. We’re all going to meet in the dining room.”
Are you fucking kidding me?
“I think I’ll pass on the familial scene, Deke. I’m out of here.”
Logan started for the front door with the attorney on his heels. “What do I tell the family? They’re going to hear that you inherit a fourth.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you tell them,” Logan growled, pulling on the door knob. “Tell them the bastard son had to get back to work.”
He was out the door and down the steps before Deke could reply. Logan jumped into his truck and gunned the engine before reversing out of the driveway. He needed to get out of here right now. He needed to find a way to stop this agonizing pain.
Chapter Nine
Logan twisted open the bottle of whiskey, breaking the seal. He reached for the cabinet door to pull down a glass but quickly tossed the idea. This wasn’t a sipping occasion. Current events called for gulping the Wild Turkey straight from the bottle. Hopefully the alcohol would bring him the blessed numbness and oblivion he sought. Booze was the answer and Logan didn’t even know the fucking question.
He felt raw. Exposed for all to see.
He tipped the bottle and let the fiery liquid slide down his throat and into his belly. He’d barely noticed his surroundings as he’d driven home from the Bryson estate, stopping only briefly at the liquor store. Stubborn disbelief and denial still warred with the dawning realization that nothing would ever be the same after today.
Fuck it all. Get drunk.
That was his plan. It wasn’t much of one but it was all he had. In the Army, they’d dealt with adversity as a team. He’d learned to trust others then but now there was no one but himself. He’d just acquired a family and yet he’d never felt more alone. Even when his mother had left.
An image of her flashed before his eyes and he took another long drink. Bryson had been right when he said that Jacquelyn Wright was a sunny golden girl. She’d taught Logan to sing and play the guitar. She’d taught him to hold doors open for females and to help them with their coat. In the end, she’d taught him that love couldn’t be trusted. She’d vowed to love him forever but she’d lied. He wouldn’t give anyone a chance to fool him that way ever again.
He took another drink from the bottle and settled back on the couch. The dull ache that always permeated his chest whenever he thought about his mother was back. He hated the feeling, hated the weakness. Most days he went about life and d
idn’t think about the past. He’d vowed to never become its bitch, disgusted by people who allowed victimhood to take over their life. Now he had no choice but to let long forgotten memories come crowding back one after the other until he thought his head might explode.
Searching every corner of his mind, he looked for some clue or hint of the truth that had been revealed to him today. What had he missed? Should he have known?
He ran through every conversation in fast forward. His mother had never shown that she was anything else but delighted when he’d made friends with Wade, Lyle, and Aaron. Or maybe she was glad he was close with his brothers. Since she wasn’t fucking here to ask, he’d never know.
As for Bill Bryson, Logan hadn’t spent that much time with the man but he’d always been given a warm welcome in their home. Nothing had seemed amiss or strange. Logan had never been favored over anyone else.
There was always the possibility that Bill’s letter was a huge lie. But then why would he leave Logan a quarter of his estate? It seemed an elaborate ruse to simply play some sort of sick practical joke.
No, Bill had to be telling the truth.
The thought that had been niggling in the back of Logan’s mind finally came front and center. This was the reason Logan’s supposed father had left. There couldn’t be any other reason. At some point, his father – John – must have found out and the marriage had broken up. He’d left without a backward glance because Logan really wasn’t his son.
The insistent ringing of the telephone brought Logan out of his reverie. He scowled at the machine as if his mind could vaporize its mere existence. He sure as fuck didn’t want to talk to anyone. His anger was simmering too high and his feelings were too confused. The machine beeped and a halting-voiced Wade left a message that Logan should call him.
He wasn’t even tempted to pick up the phone. He didn’t want to talk to Wade. Or Lyle. Or Aaron. Or any other Bryson right now. Logan wasn’t even sure how they’d taken the news. They had every right to be pissed that the bastard son had inherited. This had the potential to ruin his long-standing friendship with the family. He didn’t want anything from Bill Bryson. Logan should simply sign everything over to them and be done with it.
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