Page 24 of Cold Case Discovery

“Nothing wrong with wanting family heirlooms, Chloe.”

“Oh, come on, Jack. I know who my family is. Criminals begetting criminals. Sure, maybe I hoped somewhere along the line, the Brinks had this ranch becausesomeonewasn’t totally worthless. Maybe there was some immature fantasy about inheriting a sense of right and wrong fromsomeone, but I know better. I should have known better.”

She finally stopped moving things, her breath coming in pants from the physical exertion. There was an old antique-looking chest pressed back in the corner of the garage.

She glared at it. “I never looked through it. He used to do this thing. I couldn’t quite believe itwasn’theirlooms, but I knew. I knew it was just the usual way he liked to mess with me.”

“And how was that?”

She shrugged jerkily. “Once my parents really split, he was in and out of our lives. Sometimes he’d come around and Mom was tired of us, and we’d have to go spend a week or two at the ranch with him. He’d always have presents. For me. But they were just...joke gifts.”

Jack doubted he’d agree with the wordjoke, but he didn’t press. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his mouth shut, but he did it.

“I should have looked through it and gotten rid of it.” She swallowed, clearly emotional about the whole thing. “I was a coward.”

“You’re human, Chloe.”

She didn’t look at him, just kept staring at the chest.

And this was work. They weren’t Chloe and Jack here. He was the sheriff. She was a deputy. There was a case to untangle. One they were both way too close to. He should call in Bent County for this, but...

She needed to handle this first step herself. She undid the latch, but paused before she lifted the lid and took a deep breath. She looked up at him.

“Whatever this is, Jack, I need you to keep in mind that if those remains are your parents, the chances my family hadnothingto do with it are slim to none.”

He knew she was right. That all the ways this was twisting was likely leading to a very clear place. Maybe that should matter to him, but with her staring at him like that, all emotionally wounded, it just didn’t.

“Maybe.”

She shook her head, and her eyes were a little shiny, enough to make his heart twist. When she spoke, though, she was firm.

“Not maybe. Basic reason.”

“You’re not your family, Chloe.” He wished he could make her believe that. Wished there were some magical words he could find to erase all that pain for her.

“But they’re mine all the same,” she muttered, then lifted the lid.

She jumped back with a little shriek he’d never once heard come out of her. He moved, with half a thought to protect her from whatever was inside, but the scene in the chest had him recoiling as well.

Dolls. A lot of them. Mutilated and smeared in what Jack could only assume had been blood.

Chapter Eight

Chloe should not have been surprised. She certainly shouldn’t have shrieked. Another joke gift. She should have known—shehadknown, but she’d wanted to live in hope that somewhere along the line, the name Brink hadn’t been garbage. As long as this chest had remained closed, she could pretend there were nice family heirlooms inside. Artifacts of a family line that wasn’t just waste.

She should have sucked it up, been a realist and dealt with this a million years ago. Becausenowshe had to deal with it in front of Jack. Served her right, she guessed.

“It was a dumb thought,” she managed to say, though her voice was rough. She moved forward, tried to keep her arms from shaking and failed as she flipped the lid closed. “No one’s after this. Just his usual stunts. Probably laughed himself all the way to jail on this one.”

Jack took her by the arm, started steering her out of the garage. Away from the chest, thank God. What was she going to do now? She needed to haul it out of here. She needed...

“You go on inside,” Jack said. His voice was gentle, butcopgentle. Devoid of real emotion. Just getting the job done. “I’m going to call in Bent County. I’ll put on gloves and look through it while we wait for Hart or Delaney-Carson to get here.”

Panic spurted through her. No one needed to see this. No one needed to start sorting through all the gross, messed-up pointlessness of a childhood with Mark Brink as a father.

Worse than that, the idea of Jack sorting through all those horrible, gruesome dolls when she knew something worse might be lurking.

Dear old Dad had made sure to be clear that it could always,alwaysbe worse.

---