Family Sins

Seven

Bowie drove home on autopilot.

He’d gone from elation at seeing Talia to unadulterated rage. He felt sick and completely helpless. His father was on a slab in the morgue, and no one had made a move to interview a single member of the guilty family.

He needed to talk to the county constable before he got home. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed. He pulled over long enough to Google the number, and as soon as his call was answered, he resumed driving.

“Constable’s office. How may I direct your call?”

“Constable Riordan, please. This is Bowie Youngblood.”

“One moment,” the operator said, and put him on hold.

While he was waiting for the constable to come on the line, the first raindrops hit the windshield, splattering on the dusty glass, then turning into a muddy trickle that reminded him of Talia’s tears. The wind picked up, whipping the tops of the trees and sending leaves flying into the air. He turned on the windshield wipers and tightened his grip on the wheel as Riordan’s voice came over the line.

“Bowie, I see you made it home.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What can I do for you?” Riordan asked.

Bowie wasn’t about to waste time on polite conversation.

“I guess what I need to know is, why hasn’t anyone interrogated the Wayne family?”

Riordan wasn’t going to tell him that Chief Clayton had called him, or that he’d already heard from the governor, warning him to tread lightly in the case. Even so, he had no intention of easing up on anything. He just had to be careful how he went about it.

“I wanted to gather every bit of information I could get from the autopsy and ballistic reports before I began, because we don’t really have a motive. And since there are obviously a number of possible suspects, I need to go in prepared. We had the coroner expedite the autopsy because of the delicacy of the situation.”

It was a slap in the face to the whole Youngblood family, and the anger in Bowie’s voice reflected that.

“There’s nothing delicate about my father’s murder. He gave you the name of the guilty family, and it is your damn job to find the motive. I object to the fact that special consideration is being taken just to protect the rich and powerful.”

“No, that’s not what-”

Bowie quickly interrupted. “Yes, it is. Give me the respect of admitting that much, because we both know the truth.”

Riordan sighed, and Bowie took that as a yes.

“When can our family get a copy of the autopsy?” Bowie asked.

“I don’t even have a copy myself, and giving out a victim’s information is-”

“Your ‘victim’ is my father. He belongs to our family, and everything pertaining to his murder is our business. If I get even a hint that there’s going to be a cover-up, I will take this story to every news outlet in the nation. The Waynes are big shots, and big shots in trouble are always good for ratings.”

Riordan’s stomach rolled.

“There’s no need to get defensive, Bowie.”

“You misunderstand me, Constable. This isn’t defense, it’s offense, and you’ll be in the spotlight right along with them. If you aren’t physically at the Wayne estate tomorrow, ready to interrogate every last one of them, autopsy or no autopsy, I won’t give you a second chance. I work for powerful people, too.”

“It is against the law to threaten the office of the constable of this county, and you don’t want-”

“I didn’t threaten you at all,” Bowie snapped. “I informed you of my intentions. It wasn’t a warning. I thought I was doing you a favor in giving you a heads-up. There will be representatives from our family watching to see if you show up there tomorrow. If you don’t, then we will assume other people besides you are running the show and act accordingly. I’ll be in touch,” Bowie said, and disconnected.

The rain was coming down so hard now that it sounded like hailstones against the cab. Bowie turned the windshield wipers on to the highest speed and put his phone in the console. That call had been as futile as his appearance at the Wayne estate. He’d accomplished nothing, but at least all parties involved now knew where the Youngblood family stood.

Riordan cursed beneath his breath. The call was nothing he hadn’t expected, but all it had done was increase the pressure on him. Still, Youngblood was right. If this had been any other case, he would have been talking to the guilty family the same day the body was discovered. Instead, they’d had plenty of time to prepare their statements and get everyone’s alibis straight. It had been an unforgivable move on his part, but it was too late to take it back.

“Damn it,” he muttered. He glanced at the clock and realized he’d missed lunch, but he’d lost his appetite. He was retiring at the end of the year. Why in hell couldn’t all this have happened after he was gone?

Bowie had his emotions under control by the time he arrived. Instead of parking in his usual place, he drove to the back of the house and up to the wide covered porch, parking right beside the steps.

His mother had obviously been watching for him, because she was wearing a waterproof poncho when she came out to help carry in the groceries.

“Stay on the porch, Mama. I’ll bring the sacks to you,” he said as he got out, then opened up the door to the backseat and began grabbing bags and handing them over.

Jesse came outside smiling and talking about the rain. Bowie handed a heavy sack off to him and sent him back inside with it. By the time they’d carried in the last of the groceries, Bowie was soaked to the skin, but he didn’t care. The rain was emotionally cleansing. He moved the truck away from the steps, then ran up onto the back porch and began stripping down to his briefs so he wouldn’t track water through the house.

Leigh came outside carrying a towel and a dry pair of pants.

“Your Aunt Polly is inside. I don’t want you to give her a heart attack parading yourself through the house.”

He grinned. “Thanks.”

She eyed the smile. “You talked to Talia.”

He nodded as he began toweling the rain from his body.

When he didn’t elaborate, Leigh poked a finger against his chest.

“And…?”

He paused.

“And it was good… We’re good.”

Talia’s eyes welled.

“Good for you, son. Life is too short to waste.” Then she went back inside, leaving him to dry off and get dressed.

He could hear the women talking in the living room as he walked in the back door. He slipped through the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom without them knowing he was there. By the time he got back to the front of the house, he’d plaited his wet hair into one long braid and was wearing clean, dry clothes. He needed to tell his mother what he’d found out, and talk to his brothers about being in Eden tomorrow morning to see if Constable Riordan showed.

He was walking into the living room when he glanced out the front window and saw a truck coming toward the house.

Leigh walked up behind him and put a hand on his back.

“It’s Samuel. He texted me he was coming.”

Bowie frowned. “It must be important to get him out in weather like this. Is something wrong?”

“He came to take Polly home. Your Uncle Carl twisted his ankle today and isn’t able to drive.”

“Oh, sorry about Uncle Carl, but I’m glad Samuel is here. I need to talk to the both of you before he leaves.”

Leigh rushed to open the front door as Samuel came running through the rain. He leaped up onto the porch, thankful to be out of the rain, and began taking off his rain gear, leaving it beside the door before going inside.

“Hi, Mama,” Samuel said, as he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, honey. Did you have any trouble getting here?”

“No. The roads were clear. Other than the heavy rain, it’s all okay.” Then he glanced at Bowie and saw his wet hair. “You’ve been out?”

“In town. We need to talk,” Bowie said.

“Come into the kitchen,” Leigh said. “Polly is making coffee and cutting a chocolate pie.”

They followed their mother into the kitchen and greeted their Aunt Polly with a hug.

“Can we help?” Bowie asked.

“I’ve got it,” Polly said. “You boys take a seat.”

They grinned at each other. For as long as the older generation lived, they were always going to be “the boys.”

Once the pie and coffee were served and everyone was at the table, Bowie began telling them what he’d learned, what he’d done, and why he and his brothers needed to be at the Wayne estate tomorrow morning.

Leigh was unusually silent, but Bowie could tell something was running through her mind.

“I suspect Uncle Jack is pulling in favors,” she finally said. “They’ll try to buy their way out of the whole thing.”

“It won’t matter,” Bowie said. “I’ve already warned Riordan that I’ll give the whole story to the press. Rich people in trouble are prime news.”

Leigh looked surprised, then nodded approvingly.

“Yes, that would stir things up,” she said. “Good move.”

“I wonder if they got anything from the ballistics report?” Samuel asked.

Bowie frowned. “What do you know about a ballistics report?”

“I found the shooter’s shell casing at the scene. One of the crime scene investigators took it into evidence.”

“Could you tell what caliber the gun was?” Bowie asked.

“It was a rifle,” Leigh said. “I heard it. Nothing else sounds like a rifle shot.”

Samuel frowned. “Looked like a 30-30 casing to me.”

“If we knew that for sure, Michael could put his hacker skills to good use and see if any weapons of that caliber are registered to the Waynes.”

“Dad had one once,” Leigh said. “All of us kids got together and gave it to him for Christmas one year.”

“Something to pass on,” Bowie said.

Polly had been listening to the conversation, but she knew something the boys did not. She reached for a tissue in her pocket and dabbed at a fresh set of tears.

“Carl thinks it might have something to do with Stanton and Leigh paying off our bank loan, and Thomas and Beth’s loan, too.”

Bowie frowned. “What do you mean, Aunt Polly?”

“The bank began finding reasons to foreclose on all the outstanding loans down where we live. At least a half-dozen of our nearest neighbors lost their homes. We would have, too, if it hadn’t been for your parents.”

“Why?” Bowie asked.

“There’s a big consortium gathering land to build a resort on the north side of the lake. Tourist business has really picked up in the last four or five years,” Samuel said.

“Let me guess. The Waynes are investors in the resort?” Bowie asked.

Polly nodded. “And our land sits right in the middle of the project.”

Bowie looked at Samuel.

Samuel shrugged. “It could explain why Daddy was targeted.”

Bowie looked at his mother.

“Mama, did Daddy ever mention being concerned that paying off the loans could cripple the project?”

“No, and I wouldn’t have put any of it together if it hadn’t been for Polly.”

“What will happen if they don’t get your land, Aunt Polly?” Bowie asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe the resort will have to be relocated,” she said.

“Then that’s motive,” Bowie said. “I’m calling Riordan back and telling him about this. Even if he doesn’t want to hear it, he needs all the information he can get to build a case against anyone from the Wayne family.”

Talia sat in the rocker beside her father’s bed with a glass of sweet tea and a half-eaten cookie, listening to the rain blowing against the windows behind her.

Turbulent weather used to agitate her father, especially strong wind, but no more. Erin had told her before she left today that he was moving into the final phase. Talia wasn’t sad to hear this. His suffering was heartbreaking to witness. The father he’d been was long gone. All she knew was he was finally going to be released from this hell. She’d cried all her tears as he’d suffered through this. She wouldn’t be sorry when it was over.

The creak of the rocker was a comforting sound as she finished her tea and cookie. She had vague memories of being rocked in this chair when she was young. Her mother had died when Talia was ten, and with no one to talk to about the memories, she was beginning to forget things about her, too.

Before Bowie Youngblood had knocked on her door, Talia’s future had been a blank. She didn’t know how the timing of her father’s imminent passing and the murder of Bowie’s father played out in the universe, but she believed everything happened for a reason. The fact that they were both losing their fathers and regaining their relationship felt orchestrated by a higher power. All she knew was that she no longer felt dead inside. Knowing he still cared for her gave her the strength she needed to finish this journey.

A loud clap of thunder rattled the dishes in the china cabinet behind her. She set her glass aside and got up to check on her dad. His lips were moving slightly, like he was talking, but no sounds were coming out. She wondered what he was seeing and who he was with. Were there angels standing around his bed waiting to take him home? She needed to believe there were.

As soon as she was certain the thunder hadn’t disturbed him, she carried her glass back into the kitchen and put it in the dishwasher. It was almost eight o’clock. She wondered what was happening at the Youngblood house, then wondered how people coped when death came as murder.

She was thinking about Bowie and the sadness she’d seen in his eyes when her phone rang. She slipped it out of her pocket and, when she saw Bowie’s name on caller ID, answered eagerly.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hey, honey, it’s me,” Bowie said.

“I’m so glad you called.”

“Is everything okay?”

She heard exhaustion in his voice, and she heard sadness.

“Nothing’s changed, if that’s what you mean. You sound like you’ve had a rough day,” she said.

Bowie leaned back against the headboard of his bed and closed his eyes, enveloped in peace at the sound of her voice.

“I’ve had better,” he said.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

He nodded.

Silence lay between them, as uncomfortable as the truth of what was happening.

Tears rolled down Talia’s face as she stared at a water spot on the ceiling. “Erin said Dad’s time is short.”

Bowie heard the resignation in her voice.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” he asked.

“I am at peace, Bowie. You gave that to me today. I don’t have the words to explain how much it meant.”

He rubbed his finger between the frown lines above his nose, trying to rub away a headache.

“It was a healing time for me, as well.”

“Then we were both blessed today,” Talia said. “So that was the good part of the day. What else aren’t you saying? There’s something, because I hear it in your voice.”

“The authorities have yet to question a single member of the Wayne family.”

She gasped. “You aren’t serious!”

“I wish I wasn’t,” he said. “When I found out, I left Chief Clayton and Constable Riordan with their ears ringing.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“So am I.”

“It’s because of who they are, isn’t it? Is there anything you can do to force their hand?” she asked.

“I called my brothers. We’ll be in Eden tomorrow morning to see if the constable shows up at the Wayne estate. If it’s okay, I’d like to come by and see you later before I leave town. I know you’re overwhelmed with responsibilities, but knowing there’s still an ‘us’ doesn’t feel real yet. I’d be happy with a hug and a kiss, and then I’ll leave without complaint.”

Her heart fluttered. Knowing there was an “us” was a big deal for her, too.

“I would love to see you. Come whenever you can. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to get some rest. I wish I was there to hold you.”

Talia shivered. “I wish you were, too. One day soon. Good night, Bowie.”

“Good night, Talia. Love you, baby.”

Her eyes welled.

“I love you, too, Bowie. I always have.”

She disconnected just as another clap of thunder sounded, followed by a bright flash of lightning. She jumped when she heard the crack and ran to the window to look out. Since she didn’t see anything on fire, she went back to the living room to her father’s bed.

She leaned over to stroke the side of his face and then gently patted his shoulder beneath the sheets.

“It’s raining, Dad. Lots of thunder and lightning, but that’s all. Everything is okay. I’m going to turn on TV for a bit, but I’ll keep it low. I just want to keep an eye on the weather reports.”

She turned on the TV at the other end of the room, then sat back down in the rocker. If there was a weather bulletin of any kind, she would hear when they signaled the warning. But she was so tired, and it had been a relief to hear Bowie’s voice again so soon. She closed her eyes for just a moment during a commercial and fell asleep.

Jack Wayne had stewed all day about the dark cloud over the family name. Never in their history had they been faced with anything this vile. It wasn’t to say that none of their ancestors had ever done anything like this, but they’d never been caught.

As soon as the cook served dessert and coffee, he pushed his aside. He slapped the table with the flat of his hand, rattling china and silver, and startling them all.

Blake looked up and glared. “What the hell, Uncle Jack?”

Jack looked pointedly at Justin and then addressed the room.

“Every one of you, save Charles, knew Stanton Youngblood, or at least knew who he was, so I want to know why you think he was worth killing.”

Silence.

Nita’s fork scraped the plate as she took a dainty bite of cake.

Her social faux pas made everyone turn to look.

She poked the cake in her mouth and then committed a second gaffe by talking with her mouth full.

“What?” she asked.

Fiona rolled her eyes.

Blake glared at his uncle again.

“You surely don’t expect an answer to that question, do you? The only person with any knowledge would be the one who did the deed. And I don’t know how the rest of you feel, but I wouldn’t admit to a hangnail in front of any of you. I didn’t do it, but if I had, I wouldn’t trust one of you not to feed me to the lions of the law just to get this monkey off your backs.”

Jack was taken aback. “You aren’t serious?”

Blake gestured toward his family.

“Look at their faces if you don’t believe me! Just look at them. They can’t even meet each other’s eyes right now because they know I’m right.”

Jack leaned forward, staring intently at each one of them in turn.

“So who did it? If you won’t tell me, how can I create the perfect alibi for you? I can, you know.”

Silence.

Jack sat there for a moment and then delivered a question none of them had thought to ask themselves.

“Then answer me this…how many of you can account for your whereabouts on the morning of the murder? Were there witnesses? Who outside of the family can corroborate your whereabouts?”

Fiona spoke up at once.

“Nita and I were in town, and in and out of shops. Dozens of people saw us when we were being waited on,” Fiona said.

“Yes, we talked to lots of people,” Nita added.

Jack nodded, then glanced at Blake. “And you?”

“I was in and out of the office,” he said.

“Out where?” Jack asked.

Blake sighed. “I was out at the resort site, but I was talking to people the whole time.”

“How close is that to the murder scene?” Jack asked.

Blake shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t know where the man was killed, other than on the mountain.”

Jack’s gaze shifted to Justin.

Justin glared back. “What? Before, you slapped the shit out of me to make me shut up, and now you want me to talk? What if I don’t want to?”

Jack shrugged.

“You were acting like a madman, screaming obscenities for so long I actually heard you from inside the house-even though the wind was already gearing up for the thunderstorm that’s here now.”

Blake and Charles looked as startled as they felt.

“You hit Justin?” Blake asked.

“No, I slapped him. If I’d hit him with my fist, he’d still be lying out there in the rain,” Jack said shortly, and gave his great-nephew Charles a studied look. “It’s already evident that you have more manly brawn than your relatives. Pity they took after their mother, God rest her soul. I sincerely hope you have more brains than the rest of them, as well.”

Charles paled and then flushed. It was extremely embarrassing to be held up as an example to all of his elders, and he was pissed off at Jack for doing it.

“I’m sorry, but it’s very rude of you to shame them and use me to do it. I don’t appreciate it. It makes me feel like you’re trying to drive a wedge between us,” Charles said, and then set his cake and coffee aside. “Excuse me. I’ve lost my appetite, and I’m going to go see some friends.”

He walked out without looking at anyone.

Blake sighed.

“Way to go, Uncle Jack,” he said, then left the room, as well.

Justin shoved the last bite of his cake into his mouth and got up, chewing it as he left.

Jack was ticked off that he’d just been told off by the youngest member of the family, but he couldn’t argue the point. There was even a part of him that admired the boy for standing up to him. No one else ever did.

He glanced at Nita and Fiona.

Nita set her fork aside and stared back.

“Are you going to eat your cake?” she asked.

Jack rolled his eyes, slid the dessert plate down the table like a hockey puck on ice and stomped out of the room.

Nita leaned over and caught the dish before it went off the side of the table.

Fiona grinned at her sister.

“Are you really going to eat a second piece of cake?”

“No,” Nita said. “I just wanted to piss him off. He shouldn’t have hit Justin.”

“Oh Lord, Nita, someone had to. I’ve never seen Justin act like that in my life.”

Nita shrugged, took her fork and raked it across the icing for one last bite.

“I love cream cheese frosting,” she said. “I’m going to my room to watch some TV for a while. I’m keeping my own company tonight.”

“Where’s Andrew?”

Nita shrugged.

“I don’t know, but when he called this evening, I told him I wasn’t up for company.”

Fiona arched a brow. “You don’t care what he’s doing without you?”

Nita snorted softly. “No, why would I?”

“You trust him that much?” Fiona asked.

Nita laughed.

“I don’t trust him at all, but that doesn’t have anything to do with our relationship. He has a hard dick and endurance. That’s all the job requires.”

Fiona blinked. “You never used to be so crude.”

Nita laughed again.

“Oh, Fee…I was always crude. I just don’t care enough to hide it anymore.”

She started to leave the table, then stopped, went back for the cake and her fork, and took them with her.

Now Fiona was alone.

She looked about the beautifully appointed dining room, at the elegant table with dirty plates and cups scattered up and down the length of it, and realized the scene before her was a shocking analogy for the family: a beautiful setting with a scattered assortment of very expensive, very dirty plates and cups. Cook would wash all of this clean, but who was going to clean their souls?