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“IfI could find her,” Brig added with a twisted smile. “Do you have any idea where she is?”

“Of course not!” Dean snapped angrily.

Brig’s dark brows cocked in disbelief. “No one knows where she is?”

Before Becca could explain, Dean answered. “I suppose she’s with her daughter somewhere. We really don’t know. She doesn’t work here anymore.”

“But weren’t you involved with that girl... Martha’s daughter, Jackie?”

It was Becca’s turn to be shocked. Dean had been involved with Martha’s daughter? What did that mean?

“We dated a couple of times. No big deal. What’s this all about, Chambers? What does Jackie have to do with anything?”

“Nothing really.” Brig took an apple from the counter and began to polish it against his jeans. Dean’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point. His blue eyes darted nervously around the room. “I just wanted you to admit that you told Martha not to let Becca know that I called.”

“I already told you that much!” Dean’s eyes flared with angry blue fire.

“I don’t think we should discuss this now,” Becca interjected.

“I want to get to the bottom of it!” Brig insisted.

“What’s to get to the bottom of? I was just protecting my sister, Chambers. If you can’t remember what happened, I do!” Dean’s lips curled in contempt and he pointed viciously at Brig. “You tried to ruin her,” he accused. “You did everything in your power to see her disgraced before the entire racing establishment! Because of you Ian nearly lost his license!”

“What the devil—” Ian had returned to the kitchen and his stubbled chin frowned at the scene before him. “I thought we were through arguing about Sentimental Lady.”

“We were—until Chambers came back.”

Becca’s anger got the better of her. “All right. That’s enough! I don’t want to discuss this any longer—”

“You’d better get used to it, sis. Once the word gets out that you’ve been seeing Chambers again, the lid is going to come off this pressure cooker and explode in your face! The press will be on you quicker than a flea on a dog!”

Brig’s eyes glittered like ice. “And who’s going to tell the press?”

“It’s not something that’s easily hidden,” Dean remarked. “Especially once Gypsy Wind starts racing—that isif you’re still around by then.”

“Oh, I’ll be around,” Brig confirmed. It sounded more like a threat than a promise. “And by the time Gypsy Wind starts, I hope to have all the mystery surrounding Sentimental Lady’s death resolved.” Brig was beginning to sound obsessed. His bright gray eyes never left the strained contours of Dean’s ruddy face.

Becca ran her fingers through her hair and her green eyes clouded in confusion. She stared at Brig, hoping to understand the man she loved so desperately. “I don’t know how you expect to find out what the horse racing board couldn’t.”

The muscle in the corner of Brig’s jaw worked, though he attempted a grim smile. “Maybe the board didn’t have the same gut feeling that I have.”

“What feeling?” Becca asked.

Dean stiffened and rose from the fragile protection of the chair. “You’ve got a gut feeling—after all these years?” He laughed hollowly and the false sound echoed in the rafters. “It’s been six years, man—forget it. It’s not worth all the trouble and it would cost a fortune to dig up all that evidence again . . .” He reached for his hat, but Brig’s next words made him hesitate.

“That’s right, it’s been six years . . . nearly seven. I’m not up on the statute of limitations. Are you?”

“What do you mean?” Becca asked, but Brig ignored the question.

“As for the cost of sifting through the evidence, I don’t think money will be the problem. Any amount it might cost would be well worth the price to see justice served and Sentimental Lady revenged.”

Dean whirled on his boot heel and leveled his angry gaze at Brig. “Money’s never the problem with guys like you, is it?” he inquired as he pushed his Stetson onto his head. His words reeked of unconcealed sarcasm as he opened the door and tossed his final words to Becca. “I’m going into town . . . don’t hold dinner!” The screen door banged loudly behind him and within a few minutes the roar of the pickup’s engine filled the kitchen.

“What was that all about?” Becca asked. The strain of emotions twisted her finely sculpted face. “Why did you intentionally pick a fight with Dean?”

“I wasn’t trying to argue with him,” Brig responded. “I just wanted to get some answers from him, that’s all.”

“That isn’t all,” Becca refuted, her green eyes snapping. “You nearly accused him of being responsible for Sentimental Lady’s death—not in so many words, maybe, but the insinuation was there.”