“Spit it out, then. This time, you’re going to level with me.”
“I can’t substantiate—”
I resisted the urge to shake him. “I don’t give a damn! What’s going on?”
“This is hard to say. I don’t want to believe it. Not about anyone, and especially not about my own father.”
I finally let go of his shoulders. “Tell me. Please. A lot of lives might depend on it.”
“Only mine,” he said.
“Tell me anyway.”
He finally met my gaze, his eyes clouded. “I’ve found evidence that leads me to believe…”
“What, Colin? What?”
He sighed, cleared his throat, fidgeted, and then sighed again. “That my father was behind my abduction. That he”—again with the throat clear—“sold me to Tom Simpson.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” Bryce said when I called him.
“Hey, I need to talk to you and Joe.”
“We’re outside the office building. I can put you on speaker if you want, but I’m not sure we should be—”
“Sorry. I know you don’t want to talk on any of our phones, but this can’t wait. This is big. Put me on speaker. Can anyone hear you where you are?”
“Only the steers. It’s Marj,” he said, presumably to Joe. “She wants to talk to both of us.”
“What is it, Sis?” Joe asked.
“I just talked to Colin.”
“Where are you?” Joe asked. “We should speak in person.”
“No,” I said adamantly. “At this point, I don’t care if anyone hears us. Colin did have a pair of gold cufflinks. They were a gift for high school graduation. He described them, and they sound like they could be a match to the ones we found at the cabin and outside the school playground. Only one problem.”
“Yeah?” Joe said.
“He never wore them. They were always in the top drawer of his dresser at his parents’ house.”
“Are they there now?”
“He doesn’t know. He’d have to go to Denver to find out.”
“Then he needs to go to Denver.”
“He refuses.”
“Why?”
“Because”—I paused a minute—“he thinks…”
“He thinks what, Marj? At this point, we don’t have to tiptoe around this. What does he think?”
“He’s been doing more research. Apparently he had a feeling, but he didn’t tell us that night at the hotel. Not until he had proof. And he didn’t want to find proof… In fact, he still can’t quite substantiate…”
“Sis, come on,” Joe said. “What are you getting at?”