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I opened the door. A cop stood on the front porch.
“Yes?” I said.
The cop cleared his throat. “I’m Officer Steve Dugan, ma’am. Is Mr. Steel at home?”
“Which one?”
“Talon Steel.”
I shook my head. “No, he’s out. But his brothers are here.” I held out my hand. “I’m Jade Roberts, Marjorie’s friend. Do you…want me to get Jonah and Ryan for you?”
Dugan nodded. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” I held the door open. “Come on in.”
He stepped in and removed his hat. Polite.
“I’ll just be a minute.”
I walked quickly through the kitchen to the patio. They were laughing. At what, I had no idea. It was the first gale of laughter I’d heard tonight, and with the news I had, it would no doubt be the last.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, you guys, but there’s an Officer Dugan here to see Talon. He wants to talk to the two of you.”
Jonah arched his eyebrows. “Steve? What’s going on?”
“I haven’t a clue,” I said, “but he’s waiting in the foyer.”
Jonah rose and walked past me, Ryan and Marj following. I strode quickly on their heels. I might not be family, but I needed to know what was going on. My nerves were a wreck.
“Steve”—Jonah held out his hand—“what’s going on, buddy?”
“Hey, Joe.” Dugan shook Jonah’s hand and then Ryan’s and Marjorie’s. “I’m sorry to barge in like this.”
“I guess you’ve already met Marj’s friend Jade?” Ryan said.
Dugan smiled…sort of. “Nice to meet you.” He shook my hand.
His hand was big and meaty. And clammy with perspiration. This cop was nervous. Or hesitant.
“Come on into the living room,” Jonah said. “You want a drink?”
Dugan shook his head. “I’m here to see your brother.”
“You putting together another poker game?” Ryan smiled. “Why don’t you ever ask me to play?”
“Because you suck, Ry,” Dugan said, “but that’s not why I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid this isn’t a social call.”
Apprehension clogged the air. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“I need to take Talon in. I have a warrant for his arrest.”
* * *
I was helping Marion in the winery office the next morning, trying desperately to get Talon out of my mind.
He hadn’t come home last night. I’d made several pilgrimages to the kitchen, hoping to find him staring at that damned glass of water, but to no avail. I hadn’t slept, and from the looks of Ryan when I came in this morning, neither had he.
I nearly dropped the file I was working on when Marjorie burst in like a tornado, her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes rimmed with darkness, carrying a legal-size envelope. Clearly, she hadn’t slept either.
