Page 35 of The Creekside Murder (Pacific Northwest Forensics #1)

“For what? It was a scuffle. Stop trying to make a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Trust me, I’m not. You’ve only heard Owen’s version of the fight, and he downplayed what happened for Mom’s sake.

But I was there, and I’m telling you it was vicious.

You should have seen the way he and Tony went after each other.

I thought one of them would end up dead on the street, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop them.

It took four grown men to pull them apart. ”

“What’s your point, Veda?”

“I’m not the only one who saw Owen throw the first punch. Even after it was over, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He told Tony Redmond if he ever came near anyone in his family again, he’d kill him.”

Nate swore.

“You see why I’m worried? I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to even think it—”

“Then, don’t,” Nate said. “Owen is home in bed asleep.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“I’ve no reason to believe otherwise, and neither do you.”

“We can’t just wish this away, Nate. Too many people saw and heard what Owen did. Once those witnesses come forward, our little brother could find himself at the top of the suspect list.”

She heard Nate draw a breath. “I’ll be the first to admit Owen’s behavior does him no favors.

He’s always been a hothead. I’ve wanted to throttle him myself more times than I can count.

But he’s not a killer. Remember that before you go borrowing trouble.

For now, focus on your job, and let the police worry about suspects. ”

If only she could let it go that easily.

The public confrontation—undoubtedly captured by at least one cell phone—was enough to trigger suspicion.

Unless Owen had an airtight alibi for the time of death, no one would be able to protect him.

Not Nate. Not their uncle. Certainly not Veda.

She prayed he was home in bed asleep, but even then, unless he had a companion, he’d have no way of verifying his whereabouts.

Earlier, she’d been sympathetic about how the news would affect Theresa Redmond, but what about her own mother?

The investigation would take a toll on both families, just as it had seventeen years ago.

She could still hear the dread in her mother’s voice when she learned of Owen’s clash with Tony Redmond.

Promise me you won’t go near that man again. I’m serious, Owen. If he decides to press charges, you could end up in jail. I couldn’t take that. You behind bars, and Lily’s killer free to do as he pleases. I couldn’t bear to lose another child.

I’m not going to jail, and you’re not going to lose me. You’re not going to lose any of us. Right, Nate? Right, Veda? We have each other’s backs no matter what.

No matter what.

“Veda?”

“Still here.”

“How soon can you get to the scene?”

She shook off the memory and stood. “Fifteen minutes. Front or back entrance?”

“Front. You’ll see the lights. And Veda?”

“What?”

“Just do what has to be done tonight and then back off. Dr. Bader will be back on the job in a few hours. Let him handle the postmortem. No reason for you to be involved beyond the death pronouncement.”

Just do what has to be done tonight and then back off.

She told herself not to dwell on the implication as she pulled on jeans and a plain white T-shirt. No reason to speculate as to why her big brother seemed so eager to isolate her from the investigation. Not yet, at least.

* * *

J ON R EDMOND YAWNED as he glanced at the time on his phone.

It was just after two in the morning and he’d yet to close his eyes.

He was too wired to sleep. Too anxious about what his brother might be up to tonight.

Instead of going to bed, he’d been sitting on the balcony of his second-story apartment for the past three hours willing his phone to ring.

He told himself for the umpteenth time that he was overreacting.

Letting his imagination get the better of him.

Tony had only been incommunicado for a few hours.

No need to anticipate the worst. But coming on the heels of their recent blowout, his brother’s silence worried Jon. A lot.

Sipping the bourbon he’d been nursing for hours, he went back over everything that had happened earlier in the evening in case he’d missed a clue.

He’d left the office around nine and swung by their mother’s place hoping to find Tony in the small guesthouse where he’d been staying since his release from prison.

The two brothers had unfinished business to discuss, and Jon had been determined to keep his cool this time.

No easy feat, considering everything that had gone down between them during their last confrontation.

Ever since an ex-con named Clay Stipes had hit town, the whole family had been on edge.

Stipes posed a myriad of potential problems for Tony and now for Jon.

In hindsight, his career as the Webber County DA—not to mention his peace of mind—might have been better served by remaining in the dark, but too late for that now.

He’d demanded the truth, and now he found himself embroiled in a mess that could have far-reaching consequences.

The sooner he and Tony hashed out a plan to deal with Clay Stipes, the sooner they could send him on his way and put his threats behind them.

But the windows in the guesthouse had been dark, and the front door locked.

Jon’s knock had gone unanswered as had his text messages and voice mails.

He’d left the property without stopping by to see his mother.

He didn’t want to worry her or his younger sister Gabby unless it became absolutely necessary to bring them into the loop.

Having Tony home from prison after seventeen years was a big enough adjustment.

No need to exacerbate an already stressful situation.

Instead, Jon had driven around town for a couple of hours checking the parking lots of local bars and watering holes. He’d gone inside a few of the places he knew Tony had recently frequented to see if anyone remembered seeing him that night, either alone or with a companion. No such luck.

Finally, he’d given up the search and gone home. Tony was a grown man. He’d survived nearly two decades in a maximum-security prison. Jon reminded himself that if anyone knew how to take care of himself, it was his brother.

Yet here he sat drinking and brooding when there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about the situation until the bank opened at nine.

He already had an appointment. All he had to do was go in and apply for a loan.

He and the bank manager had gone to high school together.

They’d played on the same baseball team.

That should count for something. He had good credit, a decent salary and a small piece of land that could be used for collateral.

He should be able to get his hands on a significant amount of money without too much effort.

Once the funds were transferred into his account, he and Tony could figure out their next move.

He finished the remainder of his drink in one quick gulp.

The burn of the alcohol did little to alleviate his unease.

Another drink might have helped, but he resisted the temptation.

Stay calm, keep a clear head. Clay Stipes was a dangerous man.

Not just an ex-con but a former cop who’d killed his partner.

That he’d gotten out after serving ten years was a testament to the weaknesses and loopholes in the judicial system.

But then, he supposed there were those who thought the same about Tony’s release.

Bottom line, neither brother could afford to let down his guard until Stipes agreed to leave town.

Maybe not even then. Trusting a blackmailer to keep his word was asking for trouble, but Jon didn’t see any other way out.

Stipes had the upper hand. As long as Marcus Campion remained chief of police, going to the cops wasn’t an option.

As the minutes continued to tick by, he grew more and more restless.

He reconsidered calling his mother, but she would be fast asleep at this hour, and a phone call would only panic her.

He could text Gabby instead. College had turned his little sister into a night owl.

He had a feeling she’d still be up, and she had a view of the backyard from her bedroom window.

He could at least ask her to check to see if the lights were on in the guesthouse or if Tony’s truck was in the driveway.

Still, he hesitated. Once he sounded the alarm, there would be no going back.

Then go to bed. What the hell do you hope to accomplish by sitting out here all night?

He got up, but instead of going inside, he moved to the balcony railing and peered down into the manicured grounds of his apartment complex.

He was so tense that for a moment he imagined Clay Stipes in the park across the street staring up at his apartment.

In the next instant, he realized the sinister shadow was a bush.

Not a good sign when he started conjuring bad guys from shrubbery.

Not a good sign and not at all like him.

During the seventeen years of his brother’s incarceration, he’d managed to keep a level head even in the darkest of times.

Compartmentalization was the key. He’d learned how to shut down his racing thoughts the moment his head hit the pillow.

It was the only way he’d been able to survive all those years of burning the candle at both ends.

He supposed it was ironic and more than a little unsettling that he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since his brother’s release.