Falling for the Brother

* * *

HE GOT A room at a cheap Santa Raquel inland motel, dropped the satchel that was always packed in his trunk inside the door of the room and, back in his SUV, called Harper. He felt better just being there in town. Knowing that Bruce had been in Santa Raquel, while Mason was almost two hours away, had not sat well with him.

She’d texted half an hour before to say that, as expected, Bruce had called to cancel his time with Brianna due to being needed at work. Mason was still waiting for confirmation from O’Brien that his brother was, indeed, back in town.

It was part of the deal they’d made. The captain would keep an eye on Bruce, and Mason would find out what the hell was going on. O’Brien’s plan was that Mason get some counseling for his grandmother and convince her to talk to them. He wanted to know who’d hurt her, to take action against that person, first and foremost. But the administrator also wanted to know that one of his top officers was in the clear. Albina PD relied heavily on Bruce’s expertise in the field.

Miriam was talking to them. And Mason was beginning to realize that his grandmother truly believed what she was saying. He just had to figure out why. Why she was saying it. Why she believed it, even when faced with radiology film that clearly showed something different, and medical opinion that said the bruises on Miriam’s chin could not have come from a fall. Miriam had been shown the films, had heard the doctor’s assessment. They’d asked her to tell them the truth. Unless her chin had hit something that had bruised both sides of it, there was no way she’d hurt herself falling off a stepladder. He’d found nothing in the kitchen to prove otherwise. Someone had grabbed her chin hard enough to bruise her.

And had broken her arm, too. More than once.

Harper picked up on the third ring. She was already at home with Brianna but would be leaving soon to take the little girl to her beginners’ dance class. It was the first Mason had heard that his niece was taking dance. A tug at his gut, and the moment was gone. Like so many others over the past four years.

“Can we meet afterward?” he asked, an investigator on duty needing to interrogate his key witness further.

And a man who wanted to see an old friend who could very well be under the manipulative influence of the brother he loved—and distrusted. Some of the things he’d heard that day…

His suspicions hadn’t been laid to rest. Still, he could recite facts to refute them, too.

He wasn’t forming any more judgments yet. But he felt this compelling need to speak with Harper. Spend a little more time with her. It was the only way to get a feel for what might or might not be going on between her and Bruce. Mason knew she wasn’t out to deliberately trick him; that much was clear. The fact that she’d called when Bruce showed up in town was proof enough of that—not that he’d really needed proof. Some things you just had to take on instinct.

“It’s Brie’s bath and bedtime by then, and I don’t want to call a sitter again tonight. I need to keep to our routine as much as possible. She jabbers about her day, her life, anything that pops into her head when we go about our normal day. I can’t miss that. Particularly while she’s spending time with Miriam.”

Because his grandmother might bad-mouth Harper? Or in case Brianna repeated something Miriam had said that might help them? Or perhaps something about Miriam’s situation, her behavior, upset the little girl. Or confused her. Defending her father, for instance. He could see Miriam doing that, and Brianna having no idea why.

“I visited several of Miriam’s friends today—all separately, in their homes. I’m questioning her neighbors, too. I’m in a hotel in Santa Raquel tonight because I need to see Gram first thing in the morning. I’ve got an appointment at eleven in Albina.” With Gwen. He’d yet to connect with the woman who’d shown up drunk at his door—and he suspected she’d been avoiding him.

Not too smart considering he could report her. Her word against his, of course. It wasn’t like he had any wounds to prove that she’d struck him; a slap in the face could be considered assault but he wasn’t pursuing it. And puking in his john wasn’t a crime.