Page 33 of Cold Case Discovery

But with drugs involved, there weren’t a whole lot of things she could count on Ryneverdoing. Including this. He could have called their father before he’d called her. Her father could have told Ry to dig there, and Ry didn’t mention it because he knew how she felt about Mark Brink.

There were a lot ofcoulds. Too many.

When Jack pulled up to the ranch, she once again didn’t want to face what awaited her, but she didn’t have time to wish for different. The detective’s car was parked out front. She was already inside, talking to Ry.

Chloe knew she should let her. Let Ry handle himself. But...

“Can you not come in with me? I don’t want the detective to think we’re like marching in as Sunrise Sheriff’s Department, trying to take over—or worse, make a mess of her investigation. I just want to be there if Ry needs me. I’m not stopping anything.” She said that last bit more for herself than Jack.

Jack nodded. “I’ll go around back.”

She swallowed what was beginning to feel like a perpetual lump in her throat. “Thanks.” But before she could push out of the truck, Jack took her hand, held it in his and pressed their joined hands against his chest until she met his gaze.

Serious. So damn serious. “I know Ry’s your responsibility, but he’s not under your control, Chloe. Trust me, as a man who has spent the past seventeen years trying to control Anna’s mouth, sometimes you just have to be there to catch them when they fall, not try to stop it from happening.”

She wanted to be angry that he was trying to tell her what to do, but she saw it too clearly for what it was. Commiseration. She managed a nod, then to get her hand free. She got out of the truck, didn’t look back at Jack. Just marched onto the porch and to the door, which was unlocked, so Chloe let herself in. It felt a little weird, but worry over Ry superseded any awkwardness she felt. She followed the sound of voices—Ry’s agitated one—and found them in the living room.

Ry was pacing the room like a caged animal while Detective Delaney-Carson sat relaxed as could be on the couch. When Ry heard her enter, his chin snapped up.

“Chloe, why won’t they leave me alone?” He pointed at the detective. “Isn’t this harassment? I didn’t do anythingwrong.”

“Okay,” Chloe agreed, because there was no arguing with her brother when he was this agitated. She turned to the detective, tried to smile. “I thought you’d already questioned us, Detective.”

She nodded. “Yes, but you know as well as I do when new information comes to light, a second, third or even fourth questioning might be necessary.”

“What new information?”

The detective’s expression bordered on disdainful now. “Deputy Brink, I’m not going to share—”

“She said Dad’s out on parole and is acting like I know something about it or, like I’m hiding him or I don’t know. But I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Chloe wanted to melt into a puddle of embarrassment, but she kept her placid expression on her face as she faced the detective. “Are you charging my brother with anything?”

“No, Deputy. We’re just asking when the last time he had contact with Mark Brink was, and answers have not been forthcoming.”

Chloe tried to ignore her stomach sinking. If he wasn’t answering... But she turned to her brother. No blame, no embarrassment, no frustration on her face. Just blank. “Ry,” she said calmly, “it’s a simple question. Even if you don’t know the exact date, you have an idea. How long has it been?”

“You know Dad. He’s not consistent. In one day, out the next. I don’t remember talking to him since he went to prison, and I don’t know why that’s anyone’s business, what it’s got to do with those bones. I’m only twenty-four! You think I was a kid burying skeletons?”

“I don’t think anything, Mr. Brink,” the detective said, her voice on the chilly side. “And at the moment, you’re hardly a murder suspect. What I am trying to do is gather information to solve a case. It would help if you could be cooperative instead of combative.”

“You’re accusing me of doing something wrong! You don’t think I know how you people think? All your female-cop bull—”

“Rylan Jonas Brink,” Chloe said sharply. Sharp enough that he was surprised into clamping his mouth shut. “That’s enough. Now, are you saying you haven’t had any contact with Dad since he went to prison?”

“I don’t remember talking to himonce,” Ry grumbled.

Chloe turned to the detective, so tense it was a miracle her bones didn’t simply shatter from the force of it all. “Do you have any more questions, Detective?” She expected to see fury or affront on the detective’s face.

What Chloe saw was worse: pity.

“No. Not right now. Thank you, Deputy Brink. If I have any more questions, I’ll let you know.” She stood, but as she passed Chloe on the way out, she said something quietly enough so Ry couldn’t hear. “If he changes his story, or if you find out something you think might help this investigation, I’d really appreciate it if you let me know. We all want the same thing here. Answers.”

Chloe nodded jerkily. Because it was true. They all needed answers.

She stood in silence, watching her brother pace. She had no words. She hadnothing. So she just watched him until he stopped pacing. Until he looked at her, all sheepish and sullen.

He was good at being angry, at blaming everyone around him, but he always broke in the face of her anger. Well, if he was sober.

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