“Cousin?”
“I don’t know any cousins.”
“Anyone in the family named William?”
“No.”
She was watching my face carefully now. I knew what I looked like. I could feel it. A man who didn’t know his own family. What the hell?
She turned back to the screen. Her jaw tightened. She typed faster.
“Your father had a brother.”
“Bullshit.”
“William Henry Branson. Born 1962. Younger brother of Frank Henry Branson.” She paused, like she was deciding whether to say the next part. “William died seven years ago in Winton. Cause of death is listed as accidental overdose.”
“What the—” My hand jerked on the cyclic, and the chopper lurched sideways. I corrected hard, my heart slamming.
“That can’t be right. Frank’s an only child. We grew up being told that. The Branson line ended with Frank’s sons. He’s never mentioned a brother. Not once.” I shook my head. “And Frank doesn’t own a house in Winton. He hates towns. Frank’s never owned a thing off Koolaroo his whole damn life.”
“He didn’t own this one. William did.”
“He didn’t have a brother, Sapphire.”
“He had a brother. Born two years after him. Hospital records show William was institutionalized for most of his adult life.” She kept her voice even, like she was trying to deliver it gently and knew there was no gentle way.
“Institutionalized?” I frowned. “As in a mental institution? Where? For what?”
“The record doesn’t specify. Just that he was admitted at nineteen and was in and out of care for most of his life after that.”
We sat with that for a moment. The rotors beat steadily above us.
“So, Frank had a brother who needed help his whole life, and instead of telling us, he just paid the bills and kept it a secret.” I shook my head. “Frank preached about blood and land being the only real thing his whole damn life. Koolaroo belongs to the Bransons. The Bransons look after their own. And all that time, he had a brother he never fucking mentioned?”
“Maybe he was protecting his brother,” Sapphire said, shrugging.
“Bullshit. Frank only looked out for himself.” I stared at the horizon.
“Well, someone’s been paying the upkeep on that house for the last seven years. My guess is it’s Frank. I bet that’s where Frank’s been hiding.”
The words landed like a fist. “What the actual fuck?”
I’d lived under that man my whole life. He’d raised me on Koolaroo. He’d beaten the hell out of me when I’d stepped out of line and called me useless on what felt like a weekly rotation through my teenage years and twenties. But in all that time, he’d never mentioned a brother who’d been alive. Or a brother who had died.
What else didn’t I know?
The old familiar rage crawled up my spine. The one Frank had put there. The one I’d spent years trying to outrun.
I felt like a fucking idiot. Thirty-two years old, and I didn’t know my own father. Maybe none of us did. Maybe Frank had made damn sure of that.
Sapphire went back to her screen without a word. She’d always known when to push and when to let me be. I’d forgotten that about her.
I reached past Sapphire and clicked the satphone over to channel two. “Hey, Declan, you there?”
There was a long crackle.
“Kayden? What’s up?” Declan’s voice came through tinny and far.
