Page 10 of Dangerous Lies

And that thought shook her to the core.

SIX

Jax pounded on the front door of his brother’s cabin. The rough wood shook with the force of his efforts. “Wesley, open up!”

Silence was the only answer. Birds flitted through tree branches overhead, their joyful songs a stark contrast to Jax’s own turmoil. He hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours. Chief Garcia had stationed an officer outside Megan’s hospital room so that Jax could go home and rest. Instead, he’d driven straight to Wesley’s house.

He needed answers, and he needed them now.

Worry fueled his steps as he circled the log cabin. The building was constructed out of electrical poles, notched together in perfect alignment and sealed with a mixture of cement and clay. A solar panel gleamed on the roof. Barrels nestled in the grass collected rainwater. Wesley lived off the grid. This property had once belonged to their grandparents and was used for hunting. There wasn’t a neighbor for miles.

Jax peeked into the small window on the side of the cabin. His brother hadn’t bothered with curtains. The one-room house was tidy. Dishes sat in the drying rack on the narrow kitchen counter. A handmade table, a rocking chair, and a bed were the only pieces of furniture. Books were piled on the floor. The fireplace was dark, but ashes showed it’d been used at some point. He pushed off from the house and continued around back. A generator sat hunched in an alcove. It was silent.

Jax touched the metal. Ice-cold. His brother hadn’t been here recently. His beat-up Ford truck was also missing, along with the small motorized dinghy he used for fishing. Normally, Wesley’s disappearances weren’t cause for concern. Since being discharged from the military, he’d hidden away in the cabin, preferring solitude to people. He’d also take off for days at a time. Hunting. Fishing. Sometimes just hiking. Anything that kept him outdoors and away from others.

The attack on Megan, however, changed things. Jax didn’t believe Wesley was responsible, but he was concerned that his brother wouldn’t have a good explanation for where he was during the time in question. And then there was the photograph… why would Megan’s attacker have a picture of Oliver and his brothers?

Jax sucked in a breath of pine-scented air and breathed it out slowly. He couldn’t let fear take his mind down dark paths. Instead, he lifted his gaze toward the sky. “God, I need your help. I’m worried.”

Jax had practically raised Oliver and Wesley. Their father worked on oil rigs and was gone for most of their childhood. Their mother was a factory worker, sometimes taking double shifts to make ends meet. The bond forged between the boys ran deep. Jax hadn’t realized how deep until Oliver was gone, and by then, it was too late to correct all of his mistakes.

He marched back to his SUV and fired up the engine. With a last look at his brother’s cabin, Jax headed back to town. An hour later, he pulled into his parents’ cracked driveway. His childhood home was better taken care of these days now that his mom and dad were both retired and had the extra time. New shutters, an updated roof, and plants in the flowerbeds brightened the exterior.

He entered without knocking, calling out a hello to announce his presence. His mom exited the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, a smile brightening her face. “Isn’t this a surprise?” She offered her cheek for a kiss and then studied his face. Her smile wilted. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to have a family meeting. Where’s Dad?”

“In the kitchen.”

Jax followed her into the sunny room. His father was seated at the worn table tucked in the breakfast nook, a discarded plate resting at his elbow, the remnants of eggs lingering on the porcelain. Deep worry lines marched across his face and his mouth was a stern slash. Greg Taylor had never been a joyful man, but years of hard labor and the death of one of his sons had drained the last wisp of happiness from him. Jax couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his dad smile.

“Coffee,mijo?” Valentina handed Jax a cup of coffee before swiping a stray hair away from her forehead. Silver strands wove through her jet-black hair, but she was still a striking woman. Every one of her sons favored her in looks, down to the curve of their nose and the olive skin tone. Personality-wise, though, the Taylor men were famous for their fiery tempers and protective nature. Those were inherited from their dad.

“Mamacita, sit down, please.” Jax pulled out a chair for his mother. He didn’t want her bustling around the kitchen, pushing food at him during this conversation. Then he claimed the chair next to her. “Have you heard from Wesley? I need to know where he is.”

“Why are you looking for your brother?” Greg’s frown deepened as his gaze narrowed.

Jax hesitated. His family would hear about what happened one way or another. It was far better for him to break the news, but he didn’t relish doing it. “Megan Ingles was attacked last night and nearly killed.”

Beside him, Valentina gasped.

Greg’s frown deepened. “What does Wesley…” The implication must’ve hit him because his nostrils suddenly flared, as red blotches appeared in his cheeks. “That woman—” He spat the word as if it was a swear. “—can’t leave us in peace. It’s bad enough she killed Oliver, now she’s accusing Wesley of attacking her.”

Jax held up a hand to ward off his father’s rant. “She didn’t accuse Wesley of anything. There’s evidence that suggests someone tried to kill her to avenge Oliver’s death. The chief wants to talk to Wesley just to clear him from the suspect list, but he’s missing.”

“So what? Wesley didn’t do it.”

“You and I both know that, but the chief still needs to talk to him.” Jax’s gaze flickered to his mother. “If you know where he is, please tell me. The faster we clear this up, the better it is for everyone.”

Valentina shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to him since last week. Have you tried his cell phone?”

Jax nodded. “It’s turned off.” Another thing Wesley often did when he wanted to escape the world. Not unusual for his brother, but given the circumstances, it made him look guiltier. “His truck is gone, and so is his fishing boat. Officers have checked with the local bait shops. Wesley hasn’t been by recently.”

“He likes to visit different spots,” Valentina said, concern furrowing her brows. “New ones. He could be gone for days.” She paused. “What evidence did they find to make them believe Wesley is behind the attack on Megan?”

“I can’t share that with you. It’s an active investigation.”

“Unbelievable.” Greg pounded the table with his fist. “Oliver was killed and the police do nothing. Absolutely nothing. They let his killer walk free for years. Now that she’s been attacked, it’s suddenly important to figure out what happened. Well, let me tell you, if a friend or neighbor took matters into their own hands and got justice for Oliver… well, I’d like to shake that person’s hand and say thanks.”

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