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“I think we all could say that. But what about Dean?”

“He’s probably already in custody.”

“What?”

“I called the police and explained everything to them. They were going to pick up Dean and question him. I told them that I suspected that he would try to make a run for it after he came here.”

“But how did you know that he’d be back?”

Brig’s lips curved into a thoughtful frown. “Because the poker game—the one he skipped out on. It was rigged. For a while he won and big, then he started losing. By the time he took off, he didn’t have a dime on him—or a credit card. He was bound to come here for some cash when he smelled that I was on to him.” Brig shook his head in self-mockery. “That was a bad move on my part. He could have hurt you . . .”

“He would never hurt me.”

“You don’t know your brother anymore.”

Becca’s eyes were clear when she looked into Brig’s stormy gray gaze. “Nothing that has happened has convinced me that Dean would intentionally harm me, at least not physically.” She swirled the liquor in her glass and studied the small whirlpool. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke again. “All of this has something to do with Sentimental Lady, doesn’t it?”

Brig set his empty glass on a side table. “Yes.”

“And that was why you didn’t go back to Denver?”

“I couldn’t . . . not when I felt I was so close to the truth.”

“But why couldn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me know what you were planning?”

Brig raked his fingers through his dark hair and his eyes closed for a moment, as if he was searching for just the right words to make her understand his motives. “Because I wanted to be sure that I was on the right track. For God’s sake, Rebecca, Dean’s your brother! I couldn’t accuse him without the evidence backing me up.”

“And now you’ve got it?” she asked quietly as she absently rubbed her temple. Brig’s arm across her shoulder tensed and he nodded. “Oh, God,” she murmured desperately. She fought against the tears threatening to spill.

“You knew, didn’t you?” he asked gently.

She shook her long blond curls. “No. Not really. I . . . I had vague suspicions . . . nothing founded and I guess I really wanted to look the other way. I didn’t want to believe that Dean was a part of it . . . I guess I hid my head in the sand.” She turned away from him and her next words were barely a whisper. “It explains so much,” she confided, taking a sip from the brandy. “Tell me what you found.”

There was a dead quality in her voice that made him hesitate. “I should have known that Dean was involved when I found out that he had intentionally not told you about the phone calls. That didn’t make much sense to me. It was as if he wanted to keep us apart. From what I could remember about him, he was always interested in Chambers Oil. He didn’t object to your seeing me six years ago and I suspected he was secretly hoping that you and I would get married and he’d be that much closer to my father’s wealth.”

Becca felt that she should defend her brother, but Brig’s assessment of the situation was so close to her own feelings, she couldn’t deny his supposition. She silently nodded her agreement, trying to hold at bay the sickening feeling of betrayal taking hold of her. It was true. Before the tragedy, Dean had been more than pleased with her relationship with Brig.

“But something happened,” Brig continued. “It had to have been the accident. At first, I thought like everyone else, that the reason for Dean’s attitude toward me and the fact that he didn’t let the phone calls through was because he blamed me for not supporting you during the investigation.”

“What changed your mind?” she asked, though something inside her told her that she really didn’t want to know.

“It was something you said.”

“What?”

“You mentioned that Dean suggested you go to my father for the money to breed Gypsy Wind. That seemed a little out of character to me. If Dean wanted us apart, why would he risk getting the old man involved?”

“We had no choice,” Becca reiterated. “There was nowhere else to turn and I really don’t think Dean wanted me to contact Jason. When I decided to go, Dean objected.”

“I think he was just blowing smoke . . .”

Becca leaned heavily against the cushions and closed her eyes. She remembered meeting with Jason Chambers in his cabin in the Rockies. He had insisted that she meet him there, away from the eyes in the office. The transaction was to be a private matter. No one would know about it except for himself and Becca. He had seemed pleased that she had come, or was it relief that had sparked in his cool brown eyes as he puffed on his pipe and let the smoke circle his head? His smile as they had shaken hands seemed vaguely triumphant and he had tucked the note away in the bottom drawer of his scarred oak desk. His response had been immediate and Becca had left the cabin feeling that if she had asked for a million dollars he would have given it to her without batting an eye. Yes, it had been strange, but she had been so elated that the oddity of the situation hadn’t really taken hold of her. Until now, when Brig brought it all back to her.

“There was something else that bothered me,” Brig continued. “Jason agreed to that loan . . . without any restrictions, right?” Becca opened her eyes and nodded her agreement. “He wasn’t exactly the most philanthropic man around,” Brig observed, tracing the line of her jaw with his fingertip, “especially when you consider his attitude after the match race. His remarks were so unfeeling and cruel. It just didn’t make any sense that he would loan you the money to breed another horse like Sentimental Lady. The answer had to be in that final race, but I just didn’t know what it was.”

“So why did you decide to go to Los Angeles? I’m sorry, Brig, you’ve lost me.”

“Because Ian O’Riley slipped up. When I asked him about Martha, he mentioned Jackie McDonnell and the child.”