Page 22 of River Justice

The lawyer chuckled. “That would be more convincing if I didn’t know your mother.” He unfolded a sheet of paper. “Your mother gave me this. Did you send this to Holden McKenna?” Drake pushed the sheet of paper between the bars.

Brand saw at once that it was a copy of the DNA results that he’d left in his father’s mailbox in the wee hours of the morning. What had he hoped would happen? Certainly not this.

He rubbed a hand over his face, swearing that he was never drinking again. “What was the sheriff doing with this? And what could my DNA results have to do with this missing girl?”

“Did you send this to Holden McKenna?” the lawyer asked again.

Brand nodded even as he was grimacing inside. “I left it in his mailbox last night after the bar closed.”

“Why?”

Good question, he thought. “I’m not sure. I guess I wanted Holden to admit that he was my father,” Brand said and saw Ian’s expression. “What?”

“You wanted him to admit the truth?”

He frowned. “Maybe. I don’t know. Why? What’s going on? What does it matter?”

“From what little the sheriff shared with me, Holden has received a kidnapping demand—not for money, but for him to admit the truth. The sheriff seems to think that the truth might be about Holden’s relationship to you.”

Brand shook his head. This wasn’t happening. “No,” he said, gripping the bars as he leaned back, trying to distance himself from this. “I just wanted to notify him that I knew about him and my mother. I really wish I hadn’t done it. But I wouldn’t kidnap some girl to make him admit it.” He loosened his grip on the bars. Everything was starting to make an awful kind of sense. “The sheriff is basing his suspicion on the DNA results?” He shook his head again. “I can’t tell you how much I regret all of this.”

“If you took the girl—”

He saw that the lawyer didn’t believe him. Shocked, he said, “I swear I didn’t take her.”

“She’s missing, Brand, and hasn’t been seen since she headed for the school bus this morning. Where were you between seven and seven thirty this morning?”

“In bed with a horrible hangover. I didn’t get up until noon or so.”

“Can anyone at the house verify that?” the lawyer asked.

He thought hard, remembering how empty the house had been with the housekeeper off and his brother Ryder up early and gone to work as usual. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. All he could think about was the missing girl. He’d seen Holly Jo riding her horse a couple of times and waiting for the school bus but had never even talked to her. Who would take her? What truth did they want Holden to acknowledge? It had to be something more than him fathering a bastard son.

Brand realized what he had earlier that morning. “No one was at the house. I was alone, as far as I know.” As he said it, he thought of the young woman sneaking past his window. “There might be someone, but I didn’t see her until I got up.” Brand saw the lawyer’s concern.

“So you can’t prove that you never left the ranch all morning.” Drake sighed. “The sheriff is going to want to talk to you.” He seemed to hesitate. “But if you know where the girl is—”

“I told you I didn’t take her. I don’t know where she is. I’m not my brother. Or my—” He almost saidmother.

The lawyer nodded. “I’ll be back.”

“Just a minute. You already knew that I was Holden McKenna’s biological son, didn’t you?”

“No. Why would you think I did?”

“Because you didn’t seem surprised,” Brand said.

“I’ve been your mother’s lawyer for years. Little surprises me anymore.”

With that, he started to leave, and would have except for the sheriff coming in to tell Brand that he was being released—at least temporarily. “Don’t leave the river basin,” the sheriff said.

CHAPTER NINE

HOLDENCOULDN’TSTANDthe waiting. It gave him too much time to think, to worry, to mull over everything that he’d done in his life to bring it to this point. His fear for Holly Jo was a physical ache in his chest, as if his ruthless heart were attacking him.

Was it possible Brand had taken her? He picked up the sheet of paper with the DNA results that had been left in his mailbox. DNA didn’t lie. He knew that much. But Charlotte had. She must have known or at least suspected, and yet she’d never said a word.

More than thirty-some years ago. He’d never forgotten the times they’d made love. But had that been the last time? Or had there been another time? He tried to recall in the months after if Charlotte had tried to reach out to him.

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