Page 82 of A Secret to Die For

“Out of all those deputies, nobody recognised him?”

“He most probably came from out of town.”

“He was there to kill me, wasn’t he?”

“We’re still processing—”

“The evidence, I know. Well, process this—a stranger arrives at an estate in the middle of nowhere and instead of heading for the main house where all the valuables are, he somehow navigates his way to the pool house, which is usually devoid of both life and accoutrements, with a gun. Next you’re gonna tell me he was just looking for a place to lay his poor, weary head.”

“I understand your concerns.”

“Do you? Do you really? Because right now, it seems like I’m the only one who’s worried!”

I shoved the chair back and stalked across the kitchen, looking for something to throw. Damn Parker and his obsessive tidiness. In the end, I yanked open the refrigerator, found an apple, and hurled it toward the door. Right as Luca appeared.

“Whoa.” He sidestepped, then peered around the doorjamb. “Is it safe now?”

“Sorry.”

“I was going to ask how you’re feeling, but I guess I already know the answer.”

“Where’s Garrett?”

“He’s fine. His lawyer’s with him now.”

“Why does he need a lawyer? He acted in self-defence. There was a man outside with a freaking gun, and it wasn’t a social call.”

“We just have a few issues to get straightened out. Sara, have you ever seen the man who came to your house before tonight?”

“Doesn’t anyone in the sheriff’s department talk to each other? No, I’ve never seen him before, same as I never saw the person who killed my mom and dad before he showed up either.”

Luca beckoned Colt out of the room, and I was tempted to throw another apple. Why couldn’t anyone be straight with me?

29

GARRETT

My phone vibrated on the table in front of me, and I ignored Angela for the seventeenth time. At least Luca hadn’t decided to cuff me, and he didn’t seem too worried about me checking my messages either. Probably because the situation was a clear-cut case of self-defence.

An intruder had shown up at Saralisa’s home and set off the alarms. I’d flanked him, and while he was fiddling with the lock, I’d instructed him to raise his hands. He’d turned and fired at me, but he clearly hadn’t spent much time on the range because both shots went wide. I’d shot him in the chest twice and the head once. The end.

Our family lawyer was far more excited about this than I was, no doubt because he was getting paid eight hundred bucks an hour plus whatever expenses he charged for driving to this godforsaken part of Oregon outside of business hours. Now he was pacing the study at The Lookout in two-thousand-dollar brogues and a custom-made suit.

“Burford, it’s simple. The man had no business creeping around the Baldwin estate at midnight, not unless you count committing a felony as a valid reason. I shot him in the fucking face with a legally registered firearm while he was in the process of trying to kill me.”

“Your father’s currently campaigning for tighter gun controls.”

“Fantastic, let him. They can start by taking the guns away from the criminals.”

“You know what the press is going to say.”

“Have you been speaking with Angela?”

The door opened, and Sheriff Newman walked in. The guy had to be at least eighty, and his rumpled attire suggested he’d never been near a tailor or even an iron in his life.

“How are you holdin’ up, son?”

“That’s the question I should be asking my girlfriend. How much longer are you going to keep me here?”

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