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“What aren’t you telling me, son?”
“I don’t know. This is just conjecture, but Donny and I, when we met with that nurse, Donny asked if atropine—the stuff Uncle Tal was poisoned with—had a veterinary use. It does.”
“Yeah, it does. But that doesn’t mean…”
“Doesn’t it? I mean, at this point, don’t we have to take every clue we have to try to piece them together any way we can?”
Dad grips the steering wheel with white knuckles. “You’re right, son. I think Uncle Bryce and I… I think we’ve gotten a little complacent in our old age. We thought the bad years for the Steels were over. Apparently we were wrong. Dead wrong.”
“Dad, I like Doc Sheraton. I always have. But honestly? How well do we really know him? If his daughter is capable of drugging other girls and helping to photograph them in compromising positions, what kind of man is he? Really?”
“A widower. A single parent. A small-town vet.” Dad sighs. “A small-town vet who lost a lot of his business when Uncle Bryce and I made a decision ten years ago.”
Wow. Total zinger.
Guilt. Dad and Uncle Bryce felt guilty, so they let Doc Sheraton rent the property adjacent to what he owned here in Wyoming.
Doc needed a side hustle. He trains guard dogs.
Still… Why does he need our property?
If we go to Doc Sheraton now, start talking to him…
But he doesn’t have anything to do with us. I can’t even believe it. Except that… If Dale, Donny, and I are right, and whoever is using our property for nefarious purposes uses guard dogs…
But of course they could get their dogs anywhere. We can’t assume they got them from Doc Sheraton. He’s not the only person in the area who trains guard dogs.
But now… With Pat Lamone possibly being a relative?
My God, it’s all converging…
It’s all converging in a way that makes me want to hurl.
So many questions.
Did Pat Lamone have any idea he might be a relative ten years ago, when he poisoned Diana? If so, that’s certainly not the way to make nice with the Steel family to get part of our fortune. Pat Lamone is no brainiac, but he’s notthatstupid.
But…heisback in town now. Right around the same time that Donny and Callie became an item. And right around the same time Uncle Talon got shot.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I say to Dad.
“All I’m thinking, Brock, is that we have a lot of little pieces of evidence—”
“Littlepieces of evidence?”
“Wrong word. Sorry. Andinsignificantcertainly isn’t the word I want either.”
“No, I’d say they’re damned significant. Especially the one about your brother being shot.”
“Unrelated… Seemingly unrelated pieces of evidence,” Dad continues, “that may not be so unrelated after all.”
“What is the common thread?”
“The common thread seems to be my esteemed half uncle. William Elijah Steel.”
“Steel? Not Pat Lamone?”
“It seems to all come back to him. I mean, look at everything. We’ve got the stuff Brendan Murphy uncovered under his floorboards, including a birth certificate for William Elijah Steel.”
