“I can tell by your tone that you don’t believe that’s what happened, do you?”
“It seems unlikely. I don’t think someone finding the opening to a dark, incredibly long tunnel in the mountain would want to venture inside without being positive it wouldn’t collapse and would lead them somewhere useful. It’s far more reasonable to conclude that either Rafael helped Esteban fake his death and stay out of sight all this time, or Esteban contacted him later for his help. Now one of them, maybe both, are trying to find you. The question is why, and do they want to harm you? The shootings definitely have me leaning toward the latter.”
“None of this makes sense to me.”
“Go back to the beginning. Everything that’s happened seems to stem from Esteban being on that boat and disappearing. That’s probably the key to figuring this out. Maybe we haven’t gotten traction with our theories because our initial premise is wrong. What if Esteban was never on the boat? Maybe he came here specifically to stage his death, then brought the skeletal remains of someone else’s corpse months later and sank them in the lake to try to get people to stop looking for him. Your family didn’t perform DNA testing on the remains, right?”
She shook her head. “No. The clothing, his phone, wallet, the gold chain he wore around his neck were all with the skeleton. We had no reason not to think it was him.”
“He must have placed those items there to make you think it was him.”
She considered that. “You’re saying he went there knowing that someone was trying to kill him? And that he planned out the boat scenario to make them think he died?”
“It’s feasible. Plausible even, given what we do and don’t know about the boat and situation back then.”
“I can see him doing that if he felt he had no other choice. If he made a powerful enemy, though, and knew his life was in danger, why not go to my father for help? It’s not like my father couldn’t step in. He’s powerful, with significant resources. He could have protected Esteban. So why didn’t Esteban go to him?”
He stared at her. “Congratulations, Sierra. I think you just put everything together. It’s so obvious that it never occurred to me. Esteban faked his death because he knew he was in danger and needed to disappear, permanently. He had to disappear because the one person who could help him was the one trying to kill him.”
“No. No, Beau. Don’t you dare go there.” Sierra held out her hands as if to stop his next words.
“Your father. He’s the one trying to kill your brother. That’s why Esteban has surrounded himself with gunmen. They’re his bodyguards. But they’re getting too zealous in their efforts to protect him. Either that, or it’s on purpose and—”
“Stop it. Just stop. My father wouldn’t try to kill my brother. And Esteban isn’t trying to kill me. You, maybe. Yes. I admit that if he doesn’t want you digging into the cold case and proving he’s alive, he would…he might…do something about you. To stop you. But he wouldn’t need to kill me. There’s no motive. No reason. No advantage.”
She stood and paced back and forth in the small kitchen area, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. “And you don’t know my father. All you know is what you’ve read in those impersonal police reports. He wouldn’t hurt any of us. He couldn’t. He loves us. We’re not like your family. We actually care about each other.”
“Ouch. Guess I deserved that.”
She stopped pacing, her expression filled with regret. “I’m sorry. That was awful.” She crossed to him and leaned down, hugging him. “I shouldn’t have said that. Our families are different. That doesn’t mean yours love each other any less than mine.”
He pulled her arms down from his neck and stood, pulling her against him and resting his cheek against the top of her head. “Stop apologizing. It was nothing.”
Her arms tightened, and she buried her face against his chest. It was then that he realized her reaction wasn’t just about the little zinger she’d thrown at him about his family. It was about her realizing thatherfamily might not be as close and strong as she’d always believed. Even the idea that her father could be the bad guy in this situation hurt her. Beau silently chastised himself for being so callous in tossing around his theories. He should have saved those for his team.
“Let’s drop that line of thought for now.” He rubbed his hand gently up and down her back. “I’m probably wrong anyway. Heck, we don’t even have to discuss the investigation. We can wait until the team status call later to see what they’ve come up with.”
She sniffed, obviously trying to hold back tears. Damn. He really should have kept his mouth shut. She was so strong, and smart and fun to brainstorm with that he’d forgotten how softhearted she could be. Like when she’d worked so hard to save the gunman who was bleeding to death on the road after the same man had just tried to kill the two of them. Most people wouldn’t have done that.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s take a break. Maybe watch a movie in a bit. I can pop a mean bowl of popcorn, assuming this cabin has some.” He scooped her up against his chest and carried her to the couch where he sat with her on his lap.
He held her tight, lightly rocking her and playing with the incredibly soft curls hanging down her back. She settled more closely, her curves fitting perfectly against his planes. He held her tight, full of wonder that she still trusted him to hold her and soothe her in spite of the hurt being his fault.
Then he heard it. An odd little catch in her breath. Then another. This time louder. He grinned. Shedidsnore.
Chapter Seventeen
Sierra idly moved her pretzels on her plate, forming a carbohydrate moat around her grilled cheese sandwich.
Beau set his spoon in his now-empty bowl of tomato soup and slid it across the kitchen table out of the way. “You told me you loved grilled cheese. You haven’t eaten a single bite.”
“I ate the soup. It was good. Thanks.”
He shook his head. “I can open a can and heat it with the best of them. What’s wrong?”
“Other than the obvious? Someone wants to kill us and it may or may not be my own brother? Oh, wait, and my father may be trying to kill him?”
“Guess I deserved that. I should have asked whatelseis wrong? Are you getting sick?”
