Born To Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

Her father was an enigma. Strong. Smart. Educated. Hard-edged. A man who solved problems and faced adversity.

Ruthless?

Probably.

As for his firstborn, Clarissa, she was a little more transparent, or at least it seemed so on first look. Bold and arrogant, abrasive and downright bitchy, she was married to the Thor-like Lance. Two peas in a pod. Kacey wondered if either one of them had an inkling about a sense of humor. And yet they had children. Kacey had trouble imagining anyone less motherly than Clarissa Johnson Werner, but she’d only seen her agitated. She couldn’t help but think there was something going on with Clarissa, her snarly exterior hiding some darker emotion.

Then there was Judd, next in line, quieter, but the kind of guy that made you think of the old “still waters run deep” adage. Who knew what he was thinking or what he was capable of? He was a lawyer, as was Thane, but Judd was definitely the more uptight, by-the-book corporate type and, from what she had read about him, was divorced from a wife who had moved to Portland. No kids.

Thane was a mystery. Quiet. Friendlier than the rest, slightly amused. The black sheep who hadn’t quite run off. Almost a rogue, but not quite. The one person in the group who wouldn’t settle for being under his father’s thumb. At least not completely. Never married. Of all her half siblings the one she might be able to talk to. The least standoffish. She made a note.

As for the twins, she didn’t know where she stood with them. Cameron who had smoothed his hair on more than one occasion in the meeting had been more openly antagonistic toward her. However, Colt hadn’t exactly been warm and fuzzy, either. The smiles he’d offered seemed cold, as if he were amused by a private joke at her expense. Or had she imagined that?

Neither twin had ever been married, at least not to her knowledge, but she knew very little about them other than that they were salesmen for their father’s company and that their jobs took them all over the country and into Canada.

Was it possible they were the culprits? Perhaps working in tandem? One offering up alibis for the other while their jobs provided the perfect cover as they flew all over the country. Could they both be so perverted and twisted?

“Unlikely,” she said under her breath, but told herself to dig a little deeper, find a way to check their business trips and how they could have coincided with other unexplained accidents to unfortunate women who may have been born with the aid of a fertility clinic in Helena, Montana.

“That’s nuts,” she told herself, and turned her attention to Robert Lindley, the oddball, the one half sibling most like her. He was older than she, and again, she’d found no record of his marriage. Granted, she hadn’t had time to dig deeply into any of their lives, but a marriage should have been easily discovered, a matter of public record. Robert, too, had been antagonistic; she’d felt his distrust of her from the second he’d walked into the boardroom.

Did he still feel as if he were an outcast, even though he was a part of the family, at least as far as the company went?

But the ones she’d met weren’t all of Gerald Johnson’s children. Two of his three daughters had died from separate accidents: Aggie, as a child; Kathleen, when she was still in college.

Kacey wondered about them.

Accident victims.

Was there such a thing when it came to Gerald Johnson’s female progeny?

But Clarissa. She’s survived. Apparently her father’s right-hand woman. How does that make any sense?

“It doesn’t,” she said aloud as the wind whipped around the corners of the house and the lights flickered again. Her skin crawled and she had to fight the feeling that someone, or something was outside, something malicious, something waiting and watching.

The storm was a bitch! Rattling the old windowpanes, whistling through the rafters of the barn, causing the cattle to low and move restlessly. The dogs, too, were edgy, whining at the noise. Bonzi, for appearing tough, was really a wimp, it seemed.

“Hang in there,” he told all the animals and to the rescue dog, “We’ll be fine.”

But Bonzi’s tail hung low as another blast of wind shook the building. Trace ignored him and began rewrapping some exposed pipes that were freezing. It would take some time, but he wanted to ensure that the cattle continued getting water and that the pipe wouldn’t burst.

The lights flickered once, then again ... Great, he thought as he hadn’t yet even broken a path to the horses in the stable a few yards away. The last thing he needed was to lose electricity.

Bonzi cowered, whining through his nose, but Trace kept on insulating the pipes as best he could.

Hopefully things would be better when he reached the stable.

So they separated.

How Perfect.

From his hiding spot, night goggles allowing him to view the snowy landscape, he watched the house, had seen the old people leave. His eyes followed O’Halleran as he trudged to the barn with both dogs in tow. Aside from the kid, Acacia was alone in the house.

And he could deal with the boy.

Things were finally falling together after the scare earlier today, and the feeling that he was being followed again. He’d seen the BMW that he’d thought he’d caught tailing him the other night. He’d told himself he was imagining things, letting his paranoia rule, but again, today, earlier, he could have sworn someone was following him.

Pull yourself together! Do you see anyone out here? Hear them? Has there been any glimpse of a damned BMW for hours?