Page 75 of Lethal Danger

A moan was his only response.

“Would coffee or a cinnamon roll help?”

“Yes.” She dropped her hand but kept her eyes closed and her head resting on the sofa cushion she’d sunk into.

Hawthorne went to fill a mug for her and grabbed a cinnamon roll from the bakery box on the counter. Good thing he’d stopped by the bakery after his morning run. He dropped the roll onto a plate and carried the goodies to his sister, setting them on the coffee table in front of her. A dose of sugar and caffeine should do the trick.

He went to the armchair on the other side of the table and grabbed the roll and coffee mug he’d already set there for himself.

Rebekah slowly sat up, her gaze landing on the cinnamon roll. She dove for that first, taking a larger bite than he’d have expected from such a slim girl. “Mmm-hmmm.” The sigh of pleasure escaped as she sank back into the cushions again.

Hawthorne chuckled.

“This is so good.” She dragged her tired gaze up and blinked her blue eyes at him. “You’re such a gentleman.” The note of surprise in her tone probably should offend him.

Maybe she hadn’t met many nice guys. The idea sparked a surge of something in his gut. Protectiveness?

He squashed the feeling. She didn’t need an overbearing brother. She’d left the cult to be free, like he had. He wasn’t going to steal that freedom from her.

After taking a few long drinks of the coffee and munching more of the cinnamon roll, Rebekah sat up straighter and started glancing around. Caffeine and sugar struck again. “Well, I guess you probably know why I’m here.”

He smiled. “I can guess. You’d like to know my progress.”

“Yes.” She pressed her palms together in front of her chin. “So much.”

He brought her up to speed on the investigating he’d done so far, leaving out anything that he feared might upset her too much. He also didn’t comment on any of the interviews he related or information he’d uncovered. Better not to indicate any bias or give her false hopes before he was sure of all the facts.

She watched him intently, holding her emotions in and listening silently better than he’d thought she would.

He finished with the story of Dan Harris remembering a group of rowdy young men at the fair that night. Hawthorne added that he’d later talked to Barry Greer, the third security guard on duty that evening, who didn’t recall anything unusual.

“You’re starting to see it, aren’t you?”

Hawthorne paused with the cinnamon roll halfway to his mouth. “See what?”

“That Sam was murdered. It wasn’t an accident.” Grave earnestness filled the eyes that leveled at him.

He lowered the roll to his plate. “I think foul play is a definite possibility.”

She crossed her arms over the light cardigan that covered a blue tank top. “Why don’t you want to admit it?”

“Because you asked me to investigate this and find out the truth. I can’t do that if I go in with an already formed conclusion in my mind. I have to look at the facts objectively and see where the truth leads me.”

Her chin puckered slightly, but she held his gaze. “Okay. Then where is the truth leading you now?”

“Unfortunately, it looks like it’s leading me to Best Life.”

Vertical lines bunched on her otherwise wrinkle-free brow. “You think BL had something to do with it?”

“Someone there may have.”

“You’d go back?”

“If I have to. Sam’s mother may have helpful information about that night and if anyone had reason to hurt Sam. She could know if he had friends outside the cult who match the description of the rowdy bunch at the fair.”

Rebekah smirked. “She won’t know that. Sam wouldn’t have told her. It would’ve been breaking the rules.”

“Well, did he tell you about staying in touch with anyone outside the cult?”

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