Page 32

Riley

W atching Jules meticulously pull the stitches out of her grandmother’s quilt only deepens my affection for her. She hasn’t hesitated when the choice is her life or the truth, but she’s so unwilling to sacrifice this blanket because of the treasured memories it holds.

Each of my brothers is gathered around waiting, and while they’re all being patient, I know Dylan is about ready to just rip it open and find the truth.

He’s not one for subtleties. Beckett has been on the phone most of the afternoon, checking in on her assistant and also putting out feelers for the dead private investigators.

So far, we’ve got more questions than answers, but my hope is whatever is in that blanket changes that. I have my own theory about what is hidden in there, and if I’m right, it’s an answer.

“Okay, done.” She sets the seam ripper puller aside then gently peels back the fabric and top layer of stuffing. There, tucked away, is a large document-sized envelope. Jules withdraws it and opens the clasp then reaches in and pulls out a stack of papers.

THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT is printed right across the top one. Jules scans it closely. “I don’t understand. Why would this be hidden?”

I haven’t had the chance to tell her that her grandfather revoked his will.

“Can I see?” Beckett questions. Jules offers it to her, so she begins scanning the pages.

One after the other, we all sit in silence as she skims the document.

“Well, here’s the will we were looking for.

It lists Jules as the sole beneficiary of everything in his possession and is dated before the power of attorney, which makes it valid despite Odie’s power grab. ”

“Power of attorney?” Jules asks, turning to me.

“We found out right before I went upstairs. Odie filed a power of attorney with your grandfather’s lawyer, alongside a doctor’s note from Dodger claiming he was losing his faculties.

Prior to that, your grandfather must have sensed something was coming because he added you to the deed and revoked his previous will. ”

Jules stares at me, her expression getting angrier by the second. “Odie put himself in charge of my grandfather’s finances? That’s why he couldn’t get himself out of the contract. Because Odie held all of the money.” Her hands tighten into fists at her sides.

“This should hold up just fine in court, though you’re going to have a fight with the medical piece of it. Unless you can find another doctor to go against Dodger’s word or discredit him.”

“He can’t testify if he’s not breathing,” I growl.

“Careful, brother,” Bradyn says.

He’s right—murder, whether warranted or not, is still murder—but it’s better than Jules losing what little she has left at this point.

“We need to find out what my grandfather knew,” Jules says. “He had to have gotten close to proof; otherwise, why would Dodger kill him?”

I can’t bring myself to tell her that it’s entirely possible he hadn’t found anything and Dodger just got rid of him because he could have gone to the media with his allegations. Even a seed of doubt planted can grow. It could have ended his campaign before it even started.

“Any luck tracing finances to Fletcher’s account or tracking down the shooter at the cemetery?”

“Not yet,” Tucker replies, frustration lacing his tone. “I’m still digging, but Dodger covered his tracks.”

“No one is perfect,” Elliot comments. “You’ll find something.”

“I appreciate your faith in me, brother.”

“I don’t know if it will do any good, but maybe we should talk to my grandfather’s literary agent. See if he has proof Odie switched the contracts. If he does, then we would at least be able to get him on fraud, right? Or something like that?”

“The proof would definitely help,” Beckett replies. “Really, whatever you can get me to back up our accusation that Odie was lying about the dementia to seize your grandfather’s estate.”

“Do you think his agent will talk to you?” I ask her.

“Maybe. Odie did handle most everything though. I never even spoke to his agent, but it’s worth a try.”

“Agreed. Let’s see what he knows about the switched contract. Maybe we can get some proof.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to hang around?” Elliot asks. Our father called about an hour ago and said they’ve had some issues with trespassers on the ranch. My brothers were going to head back to help figure out just what’s going on and who’s cutting the fences.

Part of me wonders if it’s not a distraction perfectly placed to draw us back home. Which is exactly why I insisted they head back. Just in case.

“No, we’ll be fine. You guys head back, and I’ll call if something comes up I can’t handle.”

While Elliot, Bradyn, and Dylan are all on a plane back to Texas to catch things back up on the ranch, and Tucker and Beckett are focused on tracking down Landers’s lawyer—who is dodging all phone calls at the moment—Jules and I make our way into the small café her grandfather’s agent insisted we meet in.

He’d tried hard to get us off the phone and only agreed to meet with us after Jules mentioned she knew that the contract was swapped.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man try to rush someone off the phone so fast. My guess is the line was recorded for—what is it they call it, ‘training purposes’? —and he knows his job is on the line.

The café is relatively empty, with only two customers at different tables and a barista behind the counter. One of the customers, a young woman, is reading a book by the window, and a man wearing slacks and a pale blue button-down dress shirt sits in the far corner, facing the door.

He raises his hand and offers us a wave. We cross over toward him and take a seat at the table.

“Thanks for meeting me here.” He holds out his hand. “James Flores.”

“Jules Landers,” Jules says, taking his offered hand.

“Riley Hunt,” I offer as I take his hand once she’s released it.

“Great. Okay, so we have to keep this quick.” He reaches into his briefcase, and my hand instinctively goes to my lower back, but I hesitate before withdrawing my weapon, only relaxing once I see that what he’s pulling out is a folder, not a weapon.

“This is the contract your grandfather signed. The original that I hand-delivered.”

Jules opens it and scans over the front page before going to the second page where the offer is listed. “Yes. This is correct.”

“Then explain to us how the publisher ended up with the contract they did,” I say. “If you hand-delivered it, how did it get swapped?”

“I have no idea. When your grandfather came to me after receiving the incorrect advance, I looked through the files. I scoured the entire agency, looking for where the wires could have gotten crossed. The only thing I can think of is that the contracts were switched after I delivered it.”

“You said you hand-delivered it,” I clarify. “Which implies you handed it directly to the person who handles such things.”

“Yes. Well, kind of. My contact was in a meeting, so I had to drop it with his secretary.”

“Did you find anything when you asked her about it?”

He pales slightly.

Frustration ebbs away at my patience. “You didn’t ask, did you?”

“No. But only because I received this.” He reaches back into his briefcase and withdraws a photograph. It was taken of him from a distance with a red ‘X’ drawn over his face.

“A threat.”

“Yes. I stopped looking into it after that. I didn’t think him getting some extra money ahead of time was worth my life or the lives of my family.”

“It was clearly worth my grandfather’s,” Jules says. Her tone is steady, but there’s no mistaking the venom lacing it.

His eyes widen. “You don’t think this had anything to do with his death, do you? I adored your grandfather, Jules. He was a great actor and a fantastic writer.”

“It did,” I reply, confident in our understanding that him looking into this contract is what started everything else. “Do you have any idea where this came from?” I hold up the photograph.

“A courier hand-delivered it. I did manage to track him down and ask who sent it, but he said it was completely anonymous.”

Jules studies the photograph with the same scrutiny I watched her scour the fake contract with. “Did my grandfather say anything to you about what he thought happened with the contracts? Did he have suspicions?”

He shakes his head. “He called me that one time then dodged every phone call after. I assumed he was angry—rightfully so.”

“What about the publisher?” I ask. “Any word from them?”

“After I backed off, I received a phone call about how he was trying to buy his way out of the contract. They weren’t happy and insisted I get a handle on things.

I tried, but like I said, he stopped returning my phone calls.

I even showed up at the house, but Odie sent me away and said he’d handle things. ”

“Seems Odie handled a lot he had no business dealing with. My guess is this was taken by a hired PI.” She tosses the photograph back down on the table.

“Someone sent a private investigator after me?”

“Odie,” I say.

“Odie? As in your stepbrother?” He turns to Jules. “Why would he threaten me?”

“Because he’s the one who swapped the contracts,” Jules says. “He told us yesterday.”

“Why would he swap the contracts? Wasn’t he supposed to be helping your grandfather? Those terms were outrageous. No sane person would have signed it.”

“Why does anyone do anything? Money.” She stands. “If you think of anything else, you know where to find us.”

“Jules. I’m so sorry. If I’d have suspected it had anything to do with his death?—”

“It might not have anything to do with it,” she replies, though her tone betrays that she doesn’t believe that. Not even for a second. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Flores. If you think of anything else, please let me know.”

“I will. You should know that, upon his death, I sent over a certified letter to try and get you off the hook for the money. But?—”

“They want it back.” Jules nods. “I figured as much. Unfortunately, I don’t have it and have no idea where it is. Something else to figure out, I suppose.”

He nods. “I’m sorry about your grandfather, Jules. He was a good man.”

“The best. Thanks for meeting with us.” Jules turns and leaves the café, so I follow after her.

She doesn’t speak again until we’re in the truck and pulling out of the parking lot.

“I wonder if Odie sent one of the PIs after him when he found out that James was trying to find out how the contracts got switched. A way to strong-arm the agent into not looking any further. We need to talk to the publisher.”

“I’ll send Beckett after them. They’ll likely have a lot of red tape, and she’ll be able to get answers faster than we can.”

“Okay.” Jules stares out her window, so I reach over and take her hand, threading my fingers through hers.

“Do you think Odie is capable of murder?” I ask her.

“No. Then again, I never thought he’d put money above family. Now I’m not sure what he’s capable of.”