No Quick Fix (Torus Intercession 1)

“So then why would Mr. Cahill call a geologist out here now?”

“I don’t see why he would.”

“And so you think, what?” I asked, turning to Tavares. “That maybe the geologist found something more important, reported it to Mr. Cahill, and wound up dead?”

“That’s not what I said,” Tavares cautioned me. “So don’t repeat that.”

“What are you inferring?” Emery asked, grabbing my arm and turning me to him.

“That maybe Mr. Cahill knows more about this than he’s letting on.”

He turned to Tavares, stepping in close to me, arms crossed, like it was us against them. I doubted he even realized he was doing it, lining up like we were on the same team. “And what do you think?”

“We have no official comment, Mr. Dodd.”

“No official comment,” Emery repeated with a scoff, staring holes through him.

Tavares cleared his throat. “As far as we know, Grant Cahill conducts his business honestly and ethically.”

Emery nodded at the officers and turned to me. “And you think he’s not a stand-up guy?”

Me? Why the hell did he care what I thought?

“Brann?” he prodded, waiting.

“I know what I read,” I answered, using the flat, devoid-of-feeling voice I used to talk to civilians when I was deployed.

“What does that mean?”

Fuck.

Why was he pushing me? All I knew was that I was not a fan of Mr. Cahill for one huge reason—it was his plan that Emery should marry his daughter, and I was not on board. I’d been in town less than twenty-four hours, and I already knew that having Lydia Cahill in that house was not the best thing for Emery or his girls. I was certain of it. The planned marriage of convenience was not going to do any of them any good.

“Brann?” He was insistent.

“I think maybe you ask him about the geologist, right?”

He stared at me a long moment before he nodded. “I think so, yes.”

When Lydia was Emery’s wife, his land would be hers, which made it all, technically, Mr. Cahill’s. And just maybe, Cahill had gotten greedy and called for the geologist too early. But perhaps he had to know before the I dos were spoken.

“You know,” Emery began, glancing at Tavares and the other officer before his focus returned to me, “he’s been nothing but good to me since I lost Andrea, but that doesn’t mean that I go blindly forward.”

“Good,” I agreed, forcing a smile. “Because being stupid and shoving your head in the sand won’t help anything. I mean, if he called for a geologist, why did he do that without telling you? Without asking you?” I said pointedly. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he said, shooting Tavares and his officer a glare. “And I’m so glad you have no official comment or apparent concern.”

“Mr. Dodd, I––”

He put up his hand to let Tavares know he was done and then pivoted and walked up the stairs toward his girls.

“I think it’s weird,” Tavares assured me as I turned to him. “But I can’t tell him that. I mean, he’s engaged to the man’s daughter.”

There was that.

“We’re not dropping it,” the other officer chimed in, letting me know. “Our investigation has just begun.”

“Could you keep me in the loop,” I asked Tavares, and he gave me a quick nod before I caught up with the others.

“Do me a favor,” Emery said to me as we neared the front door. “Let me speak to Grant before you say anything to him.”

“Of course. You’re the boss.”

He turned his head. “I’m not your boss. I simply—right now, you being here—we’re partners taking care of the girls, and I’m enjoying having you here even for this short time. All I’m asking is that I be allowed to make inquiries before either of us jumps to conclusions.”

“Fair enough.”

He took a breath, and I realized how hard this all had to be for him. Here he was, navigating a wedding that would have repercussions for not only him but for his girls as well. Being a single parent was hard enough, and now on top of that, he had his nanny second-guessing him.

I was going to say something else, but the door opened, and there was the personal assistant, Mr. Duvall, from earlier in the day.

“Mr. Dodd, good evening,” he greeted. “Girls, Mr. Calder,” he continued, stepping aside so we could all walk inside the huge marble-floored foyer.

It might have resembled a log cabin from the outside, but inside it was a giant ski lodge, complete with an open ceiling so all the beams were visible, a giant light fixture made out of antlers in the great room, and floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere. It had to cost a mint to heat in the winter.

The polished hardwood floor was covered in rugs, there was overstuffed leather furniture in clustered groups, one near the fireplace, another by the windows that looked out onto an enormous backyard and farther toward a small stream, and another near an arch that led into the kitchen. It was not lost on me that there were no other children, and all the adults had drinks in their hands.