Brant's Return

“Hank—”

Hank held his hand up. “I wanted to, Isabelle. You deserve as much. That little girl of yours deserved as much.”

Pain washed over Isabelle’s face, and I moved toward her, taking her hand in mine, squeezing it and letting it go.

“As you already know, Zeke Harvey was a transient. I tracked him all over, discovered that he was the type of man who took money for just about anything. He’d never been arrested for more than petty crimes, but the word on the street was that if you wanted something nasty done, he was your man.”

My chest tightened. “He was what? A killer for hire?”

Hank looked at me. “From the information I was able to gather, yes. But it’s all based on hearsay by those who would be less than stellar witnesses.” He crossed his arms. “Three years ago, I found a couple of local homeless guys who had known him, but they couldn’t or wouldn’t provide any information. However, one of those men contacted me a couple of days ago.”

I frowned. Where was this leading?

“This man was recently arrested, needed to make a deal, and decided he had some information that could be useful after all.”

I glanced at Isabelle. “What did he tell you?” she asked. Her voice sounded tense, almost wooden. I grasped her hand and this time I held on to it. Hank’s gaze moved to our joined hands and back to me. Something that looked like grudging respect came into his eyes. He had spent the last three years working every angle of her case, trying to provide answers to questions that were incomprehensible, and I supposed it was only natural that he’d look at anyone who came into her life with suspicion. So I took his look of acceptance with the gravity I felt it held.

“The man looking for a deal told me that he’d slept in a homeless camp next to Zeke Harvey for a week or so. When the crime occurred, he heard about it, and figured Zeke wouldn’t need his things any longer so he took them. All this time he’s kept them. One of those belongings was a burner phone. There was only one number programmed into it and it came back to Aaron Singleton’s office.”

“Aaron?” Isabelle breathed, shaking her head as if attempting to get her thoughts to fall back into place. “Aaron . . . hired that man?”

“I can’t say that for sure. I’ve spent the last few days looking into Aaron. That’s how I knew about the money. We’d gotten tips from investors about a Ponzi scheme, but no one ever pressed charges. When I looked into Aaron’s finances, I found that he’d drained his savings, cashed out his personal investments, mortgaged his house, used his own funds to pay it back. So I knew the missing money must be somewhere else. At the party here a few weeks ago, you’d started to tell me you found something and needed advice, and we were interrupted.” He glanced at me. “When all this information started coming out, I thought back to that and thought you might have been referring to the money that was unaccounted for. And I was right.”

“You’re good at your job,” Isabelle said, a small tilt of her lips. “But I already told Aaron about the money. I didn’t tell him how much, but he wasn’t interested in it at all.”

Hank nodded warily. “I’m still looking into Aaron, Belle. In the meantime, stay away from him. Don’t talk to him or tell him anything more, and call me if he contacts you. Something isn’t right with him. His connection to Zeke Harvey has major implications. Until I know what they are, you should steer clear of him.”

“I spoke to him today.” They both turned toward me. “That’s how I got your parents’ address,” I said to Belle. “He sounded angry.” I looked off into the distance, trying to remember exactly what he’d said. I’d been a little high-strung myself at the time. “He called Paige a liar—said she’d lied about their relationship.”

Isabelle frowned. “What?”

“I didn’t know what to make of it at the time and I don’t now. It was odd.”

Hank’s expression was a mixture between worried and thoughtful. “I can’t rule out anything at the moment. Did you say he was at his home?”

“Yes, but that was almost six hours ago. I don’t know the man, Hank, but I know how people get when they’re desperate. He sounded strange to me. But again, I don’t know him.”

“Okay. Well like I said, if he contacts either of you, call me right away.”

“We will.”

“And be careful.” With one last look he turned and walked from the stable.

I took Belle into my arms, holding her tightly, kissing the top of her head, providing the comfort I knew she must need after Hank’s visit. She would never put that day to rest completely. I knew that. How could she? But to have more questions without answers come to the surface, to have to wonder about someone she’d trusted . . . it had to be a blow. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Yes. I will be.” She tipped her head back, looking at me, love in her eyes. “I’d just like to go home. With you.”

I kissed her once more, leading her toward the dark house.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Isabelle

We were both quiet as we made our way up the hill to the house. I felt unsettled as I pondered all Hank had said. I wanted to talk about it with Brant, to go over it all carefully, but I wanted to do so curled up in bed, his arms around me. Safe.

Still, with each step, my mind insisted on sifting through the information with what I now knew. Aaron had hired someone to kill Ethan? To kill all of us? Was it really possible? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. And why hadn’t he asked for the money back from me? Had the killings been planned purely out of rage because Ethan had betrayed him, never about money at all? Or had he turned down the money as a way to make himself appear the victim and nothing more? I felt sick.

There was no denying it, though. The number in the phone belonging to Zeke Harvey went back to Aaron’s office. Of course it had been Ethan’s office too, but I knew Ethan hadn’t planned his own murder. They were the only ones who worked there, well other than an administrative assistant, and Paige on occasion . . .