The Second Sister

by Dani Sinclair

  “You can’t love without trust. So what’s with this computer?”

  As Gavin told him what R.J. had discovered, his conscience was being shredded by George’s words. He didn’t want to examine the reason behind his announcement too closely, knowing he wouldn’t like what he’d see. What had seemed like the right thing to do at the time was looking pretty stupid and self-centered at the moment.

  George whistled. “Dennison had a secret room, too?”

  “I gather you didn’t know?”

  “He never mentioned it.”

  “So you don’t know if there are any more of them?”

  “Now, there’s an unnerving thought. Do you think there are?”

  Emily entered with a smile and a welcome mug of hot coffee for Gavin. “Nan says she’s making a special omelette and you’d better eat it.”

  His lips twisted wryly. Emily only thought she was the one in charge around here. Nan had ruled the house since before his arrival. But his humor dissolved in the blink of an eye when Leigh stepped into the room.

  “Did you reach your sister?” Emily asked excitedly.

  Leigh questioned him with a darting glance as she answered, “Yes.”

  “I’ll bet she was as surprised as we were at the news.” Emily hugged her fiercely. “We are so happy for you. Both of you. Have you set a date?”

  Her startled gaze fastened on his. He hoped she could read the apology in his eyes.

  “Sorry, Leigh. I should have waited to make an announcement.”

  “That would have been nice,” she agreed. She smiled for Emily’s benefit. “We haven’t had a chance to make any plans yet.”

  He was grateful she hadn’t denounced him, even as he wondered why.

  “And I’m holding out for a formal proposal,” Leigh continued. “You know, champagne, soft lights, music, a ring…”

  Gavin winced. Emily relaxed.

  “Good for you, dear. Stick to your guns. It never does to make things too easy for the male of the species.”

  George rolled his eyes, but he stood and slipped an arm around his wife. Gavin decided he’d better stop this conversation before the situation got any worse.

  “We have a few things to take care of first, Emily. Like seeing what’s on this computer.”

  “After breakfast,” she said firmly. “You know how Nan is about meals.”

  “It generally pays to concede early and often to the female of the species,” George advised with wry humor, giving Emily an affectionate smile.

  Gavin was dismayed to see Nan had gone all out, setting the dining-room table with china, even putting out small glasses of wine for a toast.

  “There wasn’t time to chill the champagne,” she informed them.

  “That’s all right, Nan, it’s the thought that counts,” Leigh told her. “And this is lovely and thoughtful, isn’t it, Gavin?”

  “Very.”

  He endured their toasts and good wishes, all the while wondering what was going through Leigh’s mind. When Emily and Nan enthused over wedding plans, Leigh went along as if it were perfectly normal.

  It was a relief when the telephone rang with a call Emily had to take.

  “Thank you, Nan,” he told the cook, anxious now to get Leigh away so they could talk. “You’re still the best cook in the county.”

  Nan scolded him with a shake of her frizzy gray head and turned to Leigh. “You’re going to have your hands full with this one.”

  “I already do,” Leigh agreed.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered as they were finally able to head back down the hall.

  “Planning your execution,” she told him mock sweetly. “At the moment, I’m leaning toward a slow death by painful torture, but I could be satisfied with immediate gratification. Strangulation comes to mind.”

  George joined them before he could respond, so he forced himself to focus on the distraction presented by the computer. With George and Leigh hovering, he cleaned up what he could of the accumulated dust and dirt before connecting George’s keyboard and turning on the machine. The cursor appeared, but the computer refused to boot.

  “Is it broken?” George asked.

  “I think the hard drive’s been wiped,” Leigh said thoughtfully.

  Gavin tried again with the same results. “I think you’re right. Why would your grandfather erase the machine then hide it away like that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t her grandfather who hid the computer,” George offered.

  Gavin met Leigh’s startled gaze.

  “I never thought of that possibility,” he said.

  “Me neither.”

  “Gavin?” Emily called, coming to stand in the doorway. “Wyatt Crossley’s here. He says he needs to see you and Leigh about last night.”

  “Use the front room,” George said. “We’ll see that you aren’t disturbed.”

  They went in to where Wyatt waited for them.

  “How’s the hand?” he greeted Gavin.

  Given everything else he’d had to deal with this morning, Gavin had pretty much ignored the pain coming from the small burns and the cut.

  “Things could have been worse. How’s Earlwood?”

  Wyatt’s jaw tightened. “He didn’t make it.”

  At Leigh’s softly indrawn breath, Gavin sought her hand.

  “Do they know what happened?” he asked.

  Wyatt shook his head. “The fire’s still under investigation. It appears to have been caused by a gas leak in the back room. Once the gas accumulated, it wouldn’t have taken much to set it off. Any spark would have done the trick, even something as simple as turning on the light switch.”

  “Keith would have smelled the gas,” Leigh protested.

  “People take foolish risks all the time, like going to investigate instead of getting out and calling the fire department. It’s just a lucky thing the two of you weren’t already upstairs when the explosion happened.”

  Gavin thought about the movement he’d seen behind the building. Whether it had been an animal or a human, his decision to drive around front had saved their lives.

  “Any chance it was arson?” Gavin asked.

  Wyatt straightened alertly. “We won’t know until they finish the investigation. You have a reason to think it might have been?”

  “Nope.”

  “Of course not,” Leigh said quickly.

  Too quickly. Wyatt’s expression turned speculative. He looked from one to the other and settled on Gavin. “You tick off anyone in particular recently, Gavin?”

  “You mean besides the team we beat last week?”

  Wyatt gave him a dry look, but didn’t pursue the question. “Last night you mentioned Earlwood had some money problems. Where’d you hear about that?”

  “I couldn’t say for sure. I may have overheard it in a conversation at The Inn one night. I know I suggested he might have tried to blow up the place on purpose last night, but it doesn’t make sense when you think about it. He wouldn’t have collected enough insurance money to make the risk worthwhile—unless he owned the building.”

  “Rapid Realty managed the building,” Wyatt supplied. “Someone’s checking to see who actually owned it.”

  “Rapid Realty is one of Nolan Ducort’s firms, isn’t it?” Gavin deliberately didn’t look at Leigh. “Did you know Ducort and Earlwood were friends?”

  Wyatt stilled. “No, I didn’t. Is that important?”

  “Probably not, but the two of them went to school together. They used to hang out with Martin Pepperton.”

  Wyatt’s eyes narrowed as he made the connection to Pepperton’s murder.

  “Something you want to tell me, Gavin?”

  “Nope. Just making conversation.”

  “Uh-huh. Interesting topic. I gather you didn’t hang with them?”

  “Wrong socioeconomic bracket.”

  “Yeah.” Wyatt looked at Leigh.

  She shook her head. Gavin found the soft sway
of her hair strangely distracting.

  “I didn’t hang with them, either. They were years ahead of me in school,” she told him.

  “Leigh, we need to tell him that two days ago I filed a court order on your behalf against Ducort.”

  Leigh froze. Wyatt’s gaze fastened on him.

  “Ducort has a stake in R.J.’s company. R.J.’s doing some work at Heartskeep,” Gavin told him neutrally. “I caught Ducort hassling Leigh.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Gavin didn’t flinch at the hard tone or the steely look in his friend’s eyes. Wyatt had a job to do. Gavin knew he took that job seriously.

  “If I wasn’t a member of the bar, I might have told you I consider him a dangerous piece of sleaze who’d probably be in jail if his family wasn’t so well connected.”

  Wyatt tensed, so he was probably aware that his uncle and Ducort’s father were old school friends.

  “Any particular type of sleaze?” Wyatt asked.

  “If you ask around, you may discover why smart women give Ducort short shrift,” Gavin told him. “He thought Leigh might be his type.”

  “I’m not,” she said firmly.

  “He doesn’t like being told no,” Gavin added. “I made sure he got the message.”

  Wyatt grimaced. “Will he be filing charges against you?”

  “Hey, I’m an officer of the court,” Gavin reminded him. “I made sure there were witnesses. Bram Myers escorted him to his car.”

  Wyatt’s grimace deepened. “Was he annoyed enough to want a little of his own back?”

  “Anything’s possible. You asked me who I’d ticked off recently and I’d have to say he’s the shortlist.”

  “Uh-huh. Was Ducort still running with Pepperton and Earlwood?”

  “You’d have to ask him, but I’d say it’s a good bet.”

  “Two of three are dead now,” Wyatt said.

  “Makes a person wonder, doesn’t it?”

  Wyatt sighed. “You’ve got my cell-phone number. Give me a call if you come up with any other interesting little tidbits, will you?”

  “Always happy to help.”

  As they started for the hall Wyatt stopped. “I almost forgot. About your apartment—they weren’t able to save anything, Gavin. I’m sorry.”

  “I know. I drove over this morning to pick up my car.”

  “If you need anything…” He let the sentence trail off.

  “Thanks, Wy.”

  Gavin and Leigh followed him as far as the front porch.

  “Think you’ll be able to play ball with that hand? Assuming we don’t get rained out again,” he added as he opened his car door.

  “If I can stand wearing the mitt, I’ll play.”

  “Consider moving to left field where you won’t have to catch as many balls,” Wyatt suggested.

  “Let’s see how much it bothers me first.”

  “Okay. And, Gavin? Watch your back.”

  “Thanks. I plan to.”

  “He manages my softball team,” Gavin told Leigh as Wyatt pulled away.

  “So I gathered. Do you really believe Nolan caused that gas leak?”

  “I don’t know, but I like the idea a whole lot better than thinking Earlwood tried to blow us up.”

  “It’s an old building. Maybe the pipe was faulty.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “Do you?”

  Leigh tucked a strand of hair behind her ear without answering. “What are we going to do?”

  “Like Wyatt said, watch our backs. We’ll keep our eyes open and stay alert. I’d like to drive over to Heartskeep and have a look inside that filing cabinet.”

  Her eyes were troubled as she looked at him. “Don’t you think we’d better have a little talk first?”

  “We can talk on the way over.”

  “I think the conversation we need to have is going to take more than five minutes, don’t you?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Nolan hung up the telephone and cursed steadily. He stared down at the bill of sale on his desk and hoped Martin Pepperton was being roasted slowly over the flames of hell.

  The bastard had transferred the worthless horse to Nolan just as he’d said. And to add insult to injury, now Pepperton Farms wanted to charge Nolan an exorbitant amount of money for boarding the cursed animal, unless he sent someone to collect the horse.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, word had spread that he was the champion-bred colt’s new owner. Tyrone Briggs was inundating him with calls to buy the worthless beast. Nolan pounded his fist against the desk, sending pens and loose papers flying. He was stuck.

  Damn it, he would have given the animal to Briggs if Martin hadn’t switched horses in an effort to pay Briggs back because of some colt Martin had bought from the man months ago. Nolan didn’t know the whole story and he didn’t care. Martin had become obsessed with getting even. He’d concocted this insane plot against Briggs and had landed Nolan in the middle of a living nightmare.

  What was he going to do? The situation was going to blow up in his face just as he’d known it would when Martin had concocted the scheme in the first place.

  Closing his eyes in despair, Nolan tried to see a way out. Everything was falling apart! As soon as the cops got wind of this transfer they’d be all over him with questions. He’d told them he hadn’t seen or talked to Martin in weeks. These papers made him a liar.

  Nolan groaned. He opened his eyes and stared sightlessly at the expensive painting on the wall across from him. He’d even volunteered—volunteered!—the information that he’d been at the track the day Martin was shot. If the cops found out that Martin had created false records for this horse he supposedly sold Nolan, they’d see the horse switch as a motive for murder.

  What if his alibi fell apart?

  What if Leigh Thomas came forward and told them what she’d seen?

  Fear sank its icy tendrils even deeper into his guts. He hadn’t meant to shoot Martin. It had been self-defense! But who was going to believe that now?

  What was he going to do? He had to think.

  He shoved back his chair and began to pace. He had two tricky deals he was trying to negotiate right now. A lot of money was at stake. One whiff of this sort of trouble and he’d lose them both. He couldn’t afford that. His cash-flow situation was critical.

  He rubbed at his gritty eyes. All these sleepless nights were starting to show. If he could get some rest, maybe he could think before everything came apart.

  Last night had been a mistake. He’d thought it was a calculated risk. He’d done his research carefully. Insurance investigators could be tenacious little bastards when something like a building blew up, but an old building like that in bad repair…

  Hey, gas leaks happened. As long as he didn’t leave behind any evidence and no one got killed…

  Except Keith Earlwood had gotten killed, according to the radio this morning.

  Nolan rubbed his bruised knuckles, struggling against a rising sense of panic. No one was supposed to die. Why had the dumb bastard stayed inside?

  The building was one of a handful Nolan had acquired and had had no use for when he’d taken over Rapid Realty seven months ago. The building needed costly repairs. It had already been on the market for over a year without a buyer, and it was a cash drain that had to go.

  Keith’s firm had been renting the main floor for a pittance. The apartment upstairs was rented as well, but the combined income wasn’t a dent on what it would cost for repairs. Keith wouldn’t have been out of pocket when it blew up. The insurance company would have made good on his losses. Same for the renter. Nolan had even made sure no one was home at the time.

  So why hadn’t Keith left? He hadn’t hit the bastard that hard.

  Oh, God, what if Earlwood had talked to the cops before he’d died?

  No! Nolan rubbed his jaw, badly shaken by the thought. If Keith had said anything to the cops, they would have been here by now. />
  He should never have used Earlwood to keep tabs on the Thomas bitch and Jarret. He’d known better, but it was driving him crazy trying to figure out why she hadn’t gone to the cops. There had to be a reason. He’d hoped it would be one he could turn to his advantage. Now, instead of answers, all he had were more questions.

  Leigh Thomas had nothing to do with the racing community, yet she’d been talking to one of Martin’s trainers inside the restaurant yesterday. She and Jarret had gone straight from there to the racetrack. It had to mean something!

  Damn it! Why hadn’t she told the cops he’d shot Pepperton? What was she waiting for? What was her angle?

  More importantly, what was he going to do about her?

  Nolan sank back down in his chair and stared at the papers on his desk.

  What was he going to do about any of this? If only he could think.

  Keith’s death could work to his advantage. Lots of people knew Earlwood needed money. If the cops did figure out someone had loosened the gas fitting, they’d probably assume Earlwood had done it to collect from his insurance company.

  Nolan stared at his bruised knuckles. He hadn’t meant to swing on Keith, but when the little weasel had shown up as he was leaving and began demanding money, Nolan had lost it. Keith’s confrontation with Jarret had started him thinking. He had actually found the guts to come right out and accuse Nolan of Martin’s murder. Nolan had to admit, for a minute there, he’d actually wanted to kill the stupid, sorry son of a bitch.

  But he hadn’t! He had to remember that. Earlwood had cracked his head a good one when he went down against the desk that last time, but he’d been breathing. He’d even opened his eyes when Nolan told him exactly what would happen if he went to the police.

  Nolan leaned back in his chair and closed his burning eyes. His head was throbbing in pain. Aspirin wasn’t touching the headache. He was tempted to fix himself a drink even if it was ten o’clock in the morning. But he couldn’t take the risk. He had to stay sharp for his meeting later this afternoon. He had to think. There had to be a way out of this horse deal.

  His muscles were coiled so tight with tension he felt as if he might explode. The horse was the big problem, right? So what if he simply got rid of the animal?