Colton's Lethal Reunion (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

She couldn’t let his words sink inside her, couldn’t let them get to that deep private place she no longer accessed. Didn’t even want them in her head. But there they were. Before she saw their danger, they’d already made their way between her ears. Couldn’t allow herself to feel anything for that thirteen-year-old boy who’d been so lonely in that big house with all the important people.

And so alone in the world.

She’d had Tyler. And her dad, who, while drunk most evenings, had always been clear in his love for his children. And in his desire to be there for them. He’d been a kind drunk. A strong worker. And a weak man.

Rafe had been made to act like a man at five.

Not that it changed anything. He’d been grown for a long time since then. Had had more than a decade with her back in town and not once had he made any attempt to seek her

out. Not to apologize. Explain. Give any indication to her that she’d mattered at all. Not even when Tyler had died...

“What is all this?”

He’d seen “the wall.” When she’d let him in, she hadn’t even thought about the small part of the L-shaped living/dining area in her home. She’d only thought about not wanting anyone who knew her seeing her talking to Rafe Colton on her doorstep.

Hadn’t been able to bear the thought of having to answer questions.

Hadn’t wanted to bear the shame, even secretly inside, of knowing that she’d once ranked Rafe Colton at the very top of her list of loved ones. Ahead even of Tyler and her dad. Only to be cast off because she was “the help.”

The truck outside, she could find a way to explain. If she had to. The Coltons weren’t the only guys in Arizona who drove cool trucks. Expensive trucks.

“So, can you tell me what this is about?” Rafe was frowning as he moved along the wall, reading, she assumed.

“A case I’m working on,” she told him. “A cold case.”

Tyler wasn’t named on the wall.

Neither was Odin.

Rafe studied details anyway. And then turned around to see the folders on the table. Tyler’s name was big and bold right on top.

“I was told his death was an accident.”

Or a suicide. Both theories had spread through town. Officially it had been ruled an accident.

“He was murdered,” she told him, feeling like a traitor for even sharing that much with Rafe. She wasn’t the only one who’d suffered when Rafe deserted them. Tyler had idolized his older sister’s friend. Had been bereft without Rafe’s support, and what he’d viewed as Rafe’s protection.

“The school year after that last...summer, he was starting fourth grade,” she said aloud. Maybe for Tyler. Maybe because it just had to be said. “Being little for his age hadn’t been an issue in third grade. A lot of guys were still small. But by fourth grade, kids started picking on him. He came home all bloodied up one day and just kept saying, ‘I gotta tell Rafe, he’ll make ’em stop.’”

She could hear the words as clearly that night as the day they’d been said. “I had to physically hold him back from running up to the mansion to find you.”

She’d never been sure what Tyler thought Rafe could have done, even if he’d still been their friend. Since Rafe was older, it wasn’t like he was ever on Tyler’s elementary school campus.

But that had been the year that changed her little brother. He might not have been as big as the other boys, but he’d been smart. And he’d toughened up. By seventh grade he’d been running with the troublemakers who’d once made fun of him. Running them.

By the time she’d come home from college in Phoenix, he’d been running drugs, too, though she never got him to admit that. And he’d never been caught. She saw the money in his room, though.

And saw him getting high and drunk every night.

She’d been away getting an education, attending the police academy to make their little world a safer place for people without Rafes to protect them, and while she’d been gone, he’d turned into her father.

“He fell off a cliff, right?” Rafe was going through photos, having opened the folder without seeking permission first. So Colton-ish.

“He was driven up there and pushed off.”

He looked at her—studied her, more like it. “You sound sure about that.”

“I am sure. I just don’t have the evidence to prove it. Yet.”