Family Sins

Eleven

Constable Riordan and a search team rolled up to the Wayne lake house at mid-afternoon. Riordan had asked Chief Clayton of the Eden PD to deliver the second search warrant to Jack Wayne as he and his men were on their way to the property. He intended to be there before the family got word of the search to make sure no one had time to remove any incriminating evidence.

Riordan had just dispatched part of the team to the large outbuilding west of the house when two vehicles suddenly appeared on the road leading down to the house, driving at a high rate of speed.

“It appears the search warrant has been served,” he said, and then headed for the house with the rest of his team behind him.

Blake Wayne was in the car behind his Uncle Jack without knowing exactly why. He’d received a brief text from Jack that he couldn’t ignore.

Get to the lake house now.

He’d reacted without question, but now that he saw the contingent of police vans and vehicles on the property, his gut knotted.

“What the hell?” he muttered, as he came to a sliding halt beside Jack’s car.

Jack had pulled up practically to the front door and was already out of his car and heading for the house, bellowing at the top of his voice, when Blake caught up with him.

“Stop them!” Jack yelled, pointing at the police, who were about to break in the door.

Riordan heard Jack shout and stopped his men in the act of forcing the door.

“It appears the man with the key just arrived,” he drawled.

Jack waded through the officers surrounding Riordan, resisting the urge to push and shove.

“If you wanted to search this property, you should have asked,” Jack blustered, as he fished the door key from his pocket.

Riordan resented the man’s attitude and didn’t bother to hide it.

“No, sir, I don’t have to ask you for anything,” Riordan said. “Your legal notification was served, and that’s all the warning you get when you are a suspect in a murder investigation.”

Jack sputtered and muttered beneath his breath as he unlocked the door, but it was hard to argue with the truth. The door swung inward, and Jack started to lead the way inside, when Riordan stopped him.

“No, sir. You will be staying outside.”

“But I can help-”

Riordan’s eyes narrowed angrily.

“You didn’t even mention this place existed when we asked where the guns might be, so your assistance is not only unnecessary, it is unwanted. It’s a trust issue. I’m sure you understand.”

Blake made his way through the crowd in time to hear Riordan ordering Jack to stay out of the house, and when Riordan saw him, he waved Blake away, too, designating a young officer to stay outside with both of them, under orders not to let them out of his sight.

Jack threw his arms up in a gesture of exasperation. “I resent the hell out of you continually treating us like criminals.” But the moment he said it, he realized how ridiculous it sounded. In the eyes of the law, they were all murder suspects. “Whatever,” he muttered, and strode back toward his car.

Blake followed, saying nothing. When he saw a half-dozen other officers milling around the garage, he started toward them when their guard stopped him.

“No, sir. You stay here.”

“Oh. Right,” Blake said, and walked back to his uncle.

“Hell of a mess,” Jack said.

Blake nodded.

Jack glared at him.

“When I find out which one of you brought this down on our family, he or she will be on their own. I won’t waste a penny on legal services for any of you.”

Blake glared back.

“Well, hell, Uncle Jack, I hate to break this to you when you’re so out of sorts, but you don’t have the legal power to do that. Every one of us, including my son, is part of Wayne Industries, and we can and will, at any time we choose, avail ourselves of all that entails.” Blake glanced at the guard and lowered his voice. “I don’t know who did it, but I can understand what triggered the impulse.”

Jack’s eyes widened as his lips parted in sudden shock.

“Really? You understand a killer’s thoughts so well you can make an excuse for the deed?”

Blake reacted before he thought, getting in his uncle’s face to challenge his sudden do-gooder attitude.

“Oh, hell, no! You don’t pretend with me. You and Justin and I all know what a big knot Stanton Youngblood tied in the resort plans when his siblings’ properties were no longer eligible for foreclosure.”

Jack shrugged. “So we’ll buy them out.”

Blake rolled his eyes.

“Why do you think Stanton paid off their loans?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. Because he was trying to stop something we-”

Blake sighed.

“No! Hell, no! We weren’t even on his radar. He was keeping his brother and sister from losing their homes-homes that had been in both families for a good three generations. They won’t take your money. They don’t give a shit about that resort as long as it doesn’t displace them. I told the investors when they set out to accumulate property that it might be an issue. Now the central part of the land they need is no longer available, nor will it be, which means plans for the resort are now at a standstill. And there better not be any discussion of so-called accidents to either family now, or the cops will blame the whole damn lot of us and we’ll all wind up in prison.”

Jack glanced at the guard and then lowered his voice, too.

“So when did you know Youngblood was the one who paid off those loans?”

Blake shrugged. “I guess as soon as the other investors knew. We were all notified there was a hitch.”

“Why wasn’t I notified?” Jack asked.

“Because investments are my job, that’s why. I didn’t need your advice or permission.”

Jack stopped and then stared at Blake as if he’d never seen him before.

“You didn’t need my permission to do what?”

Blake looked a little taken aback and flushed.

“To do my job,” Blake sputtered.

“Indeed,” Jack muttered, and then noticed the officers coming out of the garage pushing a motorcycle.

Blake sighed. “Should have figured they would find that,” he said.

“Who owns that?” Jack asked.

“The company,” Blake said.

“Who rides it?”

“I guess everyone but you and Fiona has been on it at one time or another,” Blake said.

They watched without further comment as the officers loaded the motorcycle into the back of one of the county vans and then headed into the house to join the others.

Moments later, other officers began coming out carrying rifles.

Jack flinched. “Did you know these were out here?” he asked.

“Yes,” Blake said.

“Did you tell Riordan?”

“No.”

“I wonder who did?” Jack said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Blake said. “They knew we had them. They’re all registered.”

“Do we know what kind of weapon killed Youngblood?” Jack asked.

“Riordan didn’t mention a particular model. He just asked the location of any rifles that were registered to the family. I said I wasn’t sure anymore. I obviously lied,” Blake muttered.

Jack shook his head, handed Blake the door key, then got back in his car and drove away.

Blake leaned against his car with his arms crossed, watching the uniformed officers continuing to emerge with still more rifles.

The wind was beginning to quicken. He glanced up at the sky and then frowned. It appeared they were in for another thunderstorm, which seemed fitting. Their whole way of life was in turmoil.

Finally the cops finished their search and exited the house. Riordan was the last to emerge.

Blake approached with the key in hand.

Riordan looked around for Jack. “Where’s your uncle?” he asked.

“He left. I waited to lock up.”

Riordan gave Blake a studied look. “So you didn’t know where the guns were?”

“I haven’t been out here in years,” Blake said.

“That’s not what I was told,” Riordan said, and then got in his car and led the way off the property.

Blake’s gut was in a knot as he went inside to see what damage they’d done. Cabinet doors and drawers were open, room doors were ajar. And the gun cabinet was empty. He went through the house closing doors and drawers, putting things back to rights as best he could, and then locked the front door on the way out.

He drove back to Eden with one thought on his mind. Which member of his family had blabbed about the location of the rifles? And why? What did they know? Were they trying to point a finger at someone else by being too forthcoming? He couldn’t imagine which one of them would do it, but he was going to find out.

Bowie was dreaming of his father. He could see him standing in the tree line just beyond the garden, talking and waving, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. Thinking he needed to get closer, he started forward just as a loud explosion erupted behind him. Before he could turn around to see what had happened, his father’s image began to fade. Then he heard another sound, like the crack of a gunshot, and his father was gone.

He woke abruptly, only to realize the explosion he’d heard was thunder, and the gunshot, a bolt of lightning. And he was in Talia’s bedroom, but she was gone.

He rolled out of bed and headed toward the front of the house, following the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. Talia was standing at the kitchen sink, looking through the window and watching it rain.

He walked up behind her and slid a hand around her waist. It bothered him that he could so readily feel her ribs, and he didn’t know where to start to help her heal. “Are you okay?”

She nodded as she leaned back against him.

“I woke up, thinking I needed to check on Dad. It will take a while for me to get out of that habit, I guess.”

“Is there anything you need to do? I’ll do it for you if I can, or take you to do it,” Bowie said.

“No, there’s nothing. I prepared for this day a long time ago, but I forgot to plan for what I would do without him.”

Bowie kissed the back of her neck.

She turned to face him.

“You’re sure you still want to resurrect this relationship?” she asked.

He heard the uncertainty in her voice and frowned.

“Yes. I want to grow old with you, Talia. All I ever wanted from you was for you to love me.”

She traced the curve of his jaw, brushed a thumb over his lower lip, then reached behind his neck and pulled the band from his hair. The long dark strands fell over her hands and down on to his shoulders.

“I’ve been trying to tell myself that wanting to make love with you now is inappropriate so soon after my father’s death, but when I woke up and saw you lying beside me, I was reminded that I had given up enough. It’s time to live for me. I’m not pretty anymore, but my heart still beats the same for you. Will you make love to me, Bowie?”

It was, to Bowie, tragic that she thought she had to ask when the sight of her still made his heart race.

“You will always be beautiful to me,” he said, and swung her up into his arms.

He carried her back through the house and into her room, kicking the door shut behind him. The moment he put her down she began to strip.

He came out of his clothes erect and aching, and took a condom out of his wallet. The last thing she needed was to get pregnant before she got well. Wind was blowing rain against the windows as he slid into bed beside her. He heard her sigh as she put her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Bowie, please, tell me I’m not dreaming.”

He brushed a kiss across her lips, then ran the back of his finger against her cheek.

“Not a dream. Just a beautiful reality for both of us, and I am so damned scared I’m going to hurt you, I can’t think.”

“The pain of the last seven years nearly killed me. I want to feel whole again. I want to remember what it’s like to feel joy.”

He groaned beneath his breath as he took her in his arms. This he could give her, knowing full well it would be just as healing for him.

Thunder rolled above them as he centered his mouth on her lips. Holding her in his arms like this wiped out the pain of believing she didn’t love him, easing the loneliness of the past seven years and giving him something he’d thought he would never have: a family with the only woman he had ever loved.

Their kisses quickly awakened an urgent need for more. Her skin was so smooth and soft, just as he remembered, and when he cupped her breast, the moan that came up her throat vibrated within him.

It was joy.

Talia couldn’t contain her elation. She kept stroking his face, then his arms, across the back of his shoulders, marveling at how wide they’d become. He’d left her as a teenage boy and come back a man. When he slid a knee between her legs, she shifted to let him in, then exhaled slowly as the hard length of him filled her.

Bowie’s blood was racing. He wanted her, all of her-and now-but he paused, giving her time to adjust.

Then she wrapped her legs around his waist and whispered in his ear, “Love me, Bowie. Love me like you used to.”

And so he did.

All the emotional pain they had been suffering slowly turned into passion. The more time that passed, the hotter the heat grew within them. The act became a desperate chase for the climax that stayed just out of reach.

Talia had lost all consciousness of self and was focused on that blood rush with every sense she possessed. When the climax happened, it came between one breath and the next, rolling through her in waves, and leaving her weak and spent for the aftershocks that followed.

The moment Bowie felt her muscles contracting around him, he let go, riding out the shattering spasms of release that followed. Just before he lost the ability to think, he rolled onto his back to keep from crushing her and took her with him. They savored the aftermath in silence, with Talia stretched out on Bowie’s chest and his arms holding her gently in place.

Finally, she rose up enough to look at him and smiled. This was just as she had remembered him. Dark hair framing that strong, beautiful face and a look of love in his eyes.

“Are you okay, baby?” Bowie asked.

“So happy,” she said softly, then frowned as her cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID and rolled off him to answer.

He could tell by her one-sided conversation that she was setting up a time for the hospital bed to be removed from her house. Life had intruded.

He rolled out of bed and went across the hall to the bathroom. When he came out she was already getting dressed. He grabbed his clothes and started putting them back on.

“They’re going to pick the bed up in the morning, around ten,” she said, and then glanced toward the window. Even though the shades and curtains were pulled, she could hear the rain still blowing against the house.

“I told Mama I was staying with you tonight,” Bowie said.

Talia’s heart skipped. It was wonderful news, but she felt guilty for keeping him away from his family in the midst of all their troubles.

“Is it okay? I mean, don’t they need you?”

Bowie smiled, and combed the unruly strands of her hair away from her face,

“My three able brothers and their wives and a bunch of relatives are on hand. Mama said Samuel and Bella are spending the night, so, no, she doesn’t need me tonight. And even in the middle of her grief, like me, she was worried about you. I’ll go home in the morning. I would ask you to go with me, but I know you have things to do here, funeral arrangements to make.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Talia said. “Everything was decided months ago, but I still need to stay here, and your mother doesn’t need guests when she’s grieving.”

“The offer stays open,” Bowie said, as he finger-combed his hair and fastened it back at the nape of his neck. “I’m getting hungry. How about you?” he asked.

“A little,” she said. “I don’t have a lot of groceries in the house, but we could make omelets.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, then leaned down and kissed the smile on her face. “You’re perfect, too.”

Talia was still smiling as she led the way to the kitchen.

Dinner at the mansion alternated between sardonic discourse and silence. The storm was making more noise than they were. When a nearby flash of lightning made their lights flicker, Justin cursed.

“Oh, hell, yes. Let’s add to the mood by winding up in total darkness.”

Nita glanced at her younger brother.

“Who tied your tail in a knot today?”

Justin looked up and then at the family seated around the table-everyone except Jack. Acknowledging his presence, even for propriety’s sake, wasn’t happening. He wasn’t going to let go of being bitch-slapped.

“All of you. None of you. One of you. I am so weary of having the police on our ass from sunup to sundown that I can’t think. If my sister wasn’t such a royal bitch, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“No, if your sister’s husband hadn’t lived long enough to point a finger at his killer, this wouldn’t be happening,” Nita snapped. “And that means the killer is the one who fucked up, and I’m tired of hearing you whine. Someone at this table caused this. Not Leigh. Not Stanton. Not the cops. One of us,” Nita said, and then picked up her spoon and tapped it against her water glass until the maid came in. “We’re ready for the dessert course,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” the maid said, and hurried out of the dining room.

The whole family stared as one at Nita.

“What?” she asked.

“Do you ever have serious thoughts?” Jack asked.

“I’m serious about dessert,” Nita snapped, and then clinked her spoon against the water glass one more time purely for the sake of aggravating him.

Fiona rolled her eyes.

Blake ignored her.

The lights flickered.

Justin glared up at the chandelier.

The maid returned with the pastry cart.

“Pecan pie with bourbon-infused chantilly cream, sir,” she said, and served Jack first.

Jack nodded.

“Looks good. My compliments to the chef tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, then moved around the table, serving the others. She followed up the pie with a carafe of freshly brewed coffee and filled their cups before leaving the room.

“This is really good,” Charles said, as he dug in with enjoyment.

“Indeed,” Jack said, eyeing their youngest family member. “So how did you feel being questioned by the police this morning?”

Charles glanced up from his pie. “Who? Me?”

Jack nodded.

“It was strange, for sure,” Charles said.

“Did any of the questions upset you?” Jack asked.

Charles chewed and swallowed. “No, sir.”

Justin slapped the table. “Why don’t you just spit it out, Uncle Jack? You want to know what each of us said, because you’re mad that the cops showed up at the lake house, right?”

Jack glared. Justin was the nephew who always picked at the scabs this family had until they bled. Every damn time. But now that they knew what he was getting at, he asked point-blank, “So how did they know the guns and motorcycle were out there? I didn’t even know we owned a motorcycle.”

Blake sighed.

“They’re the police. They research shit, Uncle Jack. Since nothing was here, they searched the next place we owned. It’s simple.”

Nita poured two scoops of sugar into her coffee and stirred with enough vigor that it sloshed on to her saucer.

Jack’s eyes narrowed when he saw her fingers shaking.

“What did you tell them, Nita?”

She shrugged and took another bite of pie without looking at him.

Now Jack was the one slapping the table, hard enough that the dishes rattled. “It was you who did it, wasn’t it?” he shouted.

“Who did what?” Nita asked. “You told us to play it cool. You told us to comply without anger. I complied.”

Charles was now completely silent, listening as his uncle began harassing his aunt. Finally he stood up and then clinked his spoon against his water glass.

“Excuse me,” he said, as everyone turned to look at him.

“They interviewed me last. I don’t know what everyone else said before they got to me. They already knew we owned them, remember? I assumed since the killer rode a motorcyle and the family owned one, and Youngblood wrote the name Wayne… Obviously the only thing the cops didn’t know was where they were kept.”

Jack’s glare darkened, and the tone of his voice turned ugly, almost threatening, when he asked, “What did you tell them, boy?”

“That there were guns in a gun case at the lake house. I didn’t know about any motorcycle or I would have been riding it.”

Nita shoved her coffee aside and stood up, too.

“I told them about the motorcycle when I was asked where it was, because I don’t want to be a part of this anymore. I am ashamed that Leigh’s husband is dead because of us, and probably because we continue to feel the need to be richer than we already are. And don’t treat me like this again, Mad Jack Wayne. You aren’t lily-white, and we both know it.”

She walked out of the dining room with her head up and her backside swinging.

Fiona sighed. “Excuse me,” she said, and followed her sister.

Charles glanced at his dad.

“Sorry if I did something wrong. This is the first time I’ve gotten enough insight into this family to realize that I should always lie. I thought I was supposed to tell the truth.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Blake said. “Don’t worry about it again, okay?”

Charles shrugged, then left, as well.

Justin picked up his fork and took another bite of dessert.

“Damn good pie,” he said, chewing as he spoke.

Blake ignored his younger brother just as he’d done ever since Justin learned to walk.

“Uncle Jack, you’re only making a bad situation worse. You’re successfully dividing this family in a way no one has ever done before.”

“Except Leigh,” Justin said, and took another bite of pie.

“Shut up, Justin. As a favor to me,” Blake muttered.

Jack glared at both of them.

“Which one of you did it?” he asked.

Blake shook his head and left the room.

Justin just kept eating pie.

Jack knew his nephew would probably never forgive him for the slap-down, and while a part of him didn’t give a damn, he regretted it just the same.

“Look, Justin, we need-”

Justin dropped his fork and walked out, still chewing the last bite of his dessert.

Jack was, for one of the few times in his life, speechless.

An hour had passed since the dessert fiasco. The killer was tired of the turmoil within the family, but staying under the radar was simple. Just act indignant along with everyone else.

So the cops had the rifle. So they had the motorcycle. So what. No matter what fingerprints or DNA they found, it would never be conclusive evidence against one person. Not when there were multiple owners and easy access.

Nita was in her favorite pink silk pajamas. Her makeup was off, and she’d already pinned her hair up for the night when her phone rang. She glanced at caller ID and then grabbed it.

“Hello, my darling. How sweet of you to call,” she cooed.

Andrew fell right into his “adoration of Nita” tone.

“I’ve been missing my girl,” he said. “I kind of thought you would call me. Have I hurt your feelings in any way?”

Nita wiggled with delight. Finally someone focusing on her in a special way, and even if it was bought and paid for, he was good at it.

“You have not, you silly thing. It’s just been a day of hell. The county constable was here this morning, interviewing everyone about that nasty murder thing.”

“I can only imagine,” Andrew said. “What you need is a little loving from a good man. I’d readily volunteer-unless you have a better one waiting in the wings?”

Nita moaned beneath her breath.

“No, no, there’s no one in my life but you, and I do need you. I would thoroughly love a session with you and your big, hard dick.”

Andrew chuckled. He did enjoy a satisfied customer.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” he asked.

Nita sighed. “I’m already undressed and in bed,” she said.

Andrew growled softly in her ear.

“Then you’re ready. Turn out the lights and lock your door. I’ll talk you through the biggest orgasm you’ve ever had.”

Nita moaned.

Andrew smiled.

Success, and he didn’t even have to break a sweat.