Falling for the Brother

He used to be able to tell. Reading Bruce had been one of his gifts.

The affection felt completely real.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am,” Bruce said as Mason sat.

“How so?” Their conversation was like sitting on the edge of beckoning water, but not falling in.

“Look, we both know as soon as you called telling me Gram’s X-rays showed abuse that I had to be the first suspect, and that you had to investigate.”

He nodded. No point in not acknowledging it.

“I figure since you were at the house, you’d have some idea of what’s been going on… I’ve done all of my own checking, but you’re a better investigator than I am.”

True.

Mason sipped at the coffee he still didn’t want.

“I knew I didn’t do it, but you had to find that out on your own. Same thing any good cop would’ve done.”

Mason nodded again. The back of the shop opened out onto a field of golden wheat-like growth. In the shining sun, it gave the impression of sparkling gold. Probably just weeds. Things weren’t always what they seemed.

“Now that we’re through with that part, we can take this on together. You said you wanted to talk to me. I’m ready.”

No questions about Gram. Shouldn’t there have been, if Bruce truly believed they were on the same side? Why not ask where she was? Or how she was?

“First.” Bruce maintained conversational control when Mason didn’t immediately respond. “How’s Gram?”

About time he asked.

“Doing okay,” he said, taking another sip of the dark coffee. She didn’t know that Harper had just submitted samples for a paternity test.

Neither did his brother.

Mason wasn’t sure how Gram would feel about that, but he was positive Bruce would be livid.

He’d thought, when Bruce was growing up, that there’d come a time when his brother would mature and they’d be equals—friends, even. Trusted brothers fighting crime.

If he was honest with himself he’d admit that he’d still like that.

And yet he saw the implausibility of it. The night he’d slept with Harper had ruined that chance forever. No matter who’d fathered Brianna.

He’d taken Bruce’s woman. His fiancée. Admittedly his brother had screwed up royally and Harper had owed him nothing at that point—but Mason had gone after Harper on Bruce’s behalf.

“What do you know about Elmer Guthrie?” he asked abruptly.

Bruce shrugged nonchalantly, then raised his brow as he shook his head. “He’s an older guy. Moved in down the street a year or two back. Quiet. Retired army.”

He was widowed. Had a daughter who’d died of kidney disease three years before. No grandchildren. Was active with the local veterans’ administration. And had a decent enough pension to be comfortable for the rest of his life.

All of which could hide another side of the man. The fighting side.

“You ever see him outside? Hear neighbors talk to him? Any run-ins?”

Bruce didn’t answer immediately. Mason didn’t like that.

“We’re talking about Gram’s abuse?” his brother asked, gaze speculative.

“We’re talking about Elmer Guthrie.”

Bruce leaned forward. If he hadn’t been Mason’s little brother, Mason might have been intimidated by the look in his eyes. “You think he was at the house Monday night when I left for the bar? You think he hurt Gram?”

Even if that was what Mason was thinking, he wasn’t ready to tell his brother as much.

“He must have seen me leave,” Bruce said next.

“Has he been to the house before?”

Bruce sat back again. Threw a hand in the air. “He and Gram met a while ago. She’d dropped some mail when he was walking past. He stopped and picked it up for her. She had him over for dinner a time or two, said he was all alone in that house of his. That was it, as far as I know.”

It was more than either Bruce or Gram had told him before.

Mason’s puzzle pieces floated more clearly into view. Not settling yet, but hovering.

“Why would you think he’d seen you leave? Had you given him some kind of indication that he wasn’t welcome? That you’d have to be away for him to visit?” He might suck as a brother, but he was good at what he did—zeroing in on the nuances.