Chapter 12

TWELVE

The fact that Cole didn't immediately come to Butler's defense spoke volumes to Kenzie. She studied him, the conflict in his eyes stirring her guilt. If she hadn't applied to—and been chosen for—the team, he wouldn't be dealing with all the turmoil her presence caused. "Cole..."

"Stop it," he said.

"What?"

"Whatever it is that put that guilty look on your face."

"This is the first time you've noticed it?"

"What?"

"Some days ... no, make that every day ... I have some kind of guilt related to this position."

He frowned. "That's crazy talk." A pause. "Why?"

She scoffed, a quick puff of air that she made no attempt to suppress. "Seriously?"

"Well—"

"I beat out my own brother for it, for one thing."

"I'm aware."

"I know you're aware. I'm the one who wasn't aware. I had no idea he'd applied until my dad mentioned it. With a snarl to go with the words. He really wanted Logan to get it apparently." She shook her head. "I'll never do anything right in his eyes." She clamped her lips together, kicking herself for revealing more than she'd intended. She'd thought her father would be proud. That finally she'd done something worth his praise. She was an idiot.

"Would it have stopped you from applying, had you known Logan had done so?"

She went still, then swept stray hairs behind her ears, thankful he'd let the comment about her father go unaddressed. "I don't know." She scowled, her spirit troubled. "I've asked myself that question quite a bit. And I just ... I don't know." She pressed forefinger and thumb to the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "Probably not."

"He was a good candidate, Kenzie, but you were better."

She glanced at him sideways. "I know."

"You're a doctor. He was an advanced paramedic before he became a cop. And while you both have police training, it all came down to who was the better qualified applicant. You were."

"I ... I know. Thank you for that. But I also know Logan was terribly disappointed that he wasn't chosen." Just one more thing to add to her guilt load.

"Kenzie, remember I said it came down to two people in the end?"

"Yes."

"The other person wasn't him."

She blew out a slow breath. "Thank you for telling me. That helps. A lot."

"Good."

"Okay, now on to other things. I need to go by my dad's house."

"Today?"

"You said I should apologize. I agreed. It's going to be unpleasant and I need to get it over with. Otherwise it will just nag at me until I do it."

"You're a ‘take the bull by the horns' kind of person, aren't you? Rip the Band-Aid off and be done with it, huh?"

She raised a brow at him. "You really have to ask that?"

"No. It was a rhetorical question." He nodded and tucked a hand under her elbow to lead her to the exit. "We'll swing by your father's place as long as you don't mind me being there?"

Mind? She'd prefer it. She often found herself holding back tears whenever she was around her father—probably one of the main reasons why she avoided him—but if Cole was there, she'd be stronger.

And she wasn't going to investigate why she felt that way.

When Cole pulled into her father's driveway, Logan's vehicle was already there. He lived there so his car in the drive wasn't unusual, but she'd thought he'd be at work.

Kenzie shoved aside the feelings that always rushed back at her when she came to her childhood home. Trapped, stuck, no way out. They were all synonyms that she'd shed the last time she walked out the door, her final load grasped in her arms. When she'd pulled out of the neighborhood and onto the main road, freedom, the ability to breathe, and the excitement that came with stepping into life with a new start had filled her.

"Kenzie? You awake?"

She jerked. "Yes. Sorry. Just thinking about when I moved out."

"A good day, right?"

She shot him a grin. "The best."

He laughed. "I remember Logan's shock that you actually did it. He honestly didn't think you would."

Her brief flash of joy faded. "I know. None of them did. They think I'm a coward because I waited until they were all out of the house to make my move, but I had no intention of listening to the four of them list all of the reasons I should stay and how selfish I was for leaving them. Especially Dad. And besides, it wasn't long after Paul and Kash moved out. It's the cycle of life, right?"

He frowned. "Selfish? You moved out two years ago at the age of thirty-two—and only after you arranged for your dad to have care around the clock should he need it. I think you're anything but selfish."

She pursed her lips and nodded. "Hm. Well, I appreciate that, but I assure you they'd disagree with you. On the flip side, living at home as long as I did allowed me to pay for my school expenses and finish debt free. So there's that." She needed to stop jabbering, get out of the vehicle, and go inside.

She pushed the door open and winced. The movement had pulled the wound, but she ignored it and climbed out.

Logan opened the front door. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too."

"Aw, you know you're always welcome, but Paul said you'd been hurt and didn't want any company or help."

She winced again—this time from the pain in her heart, not her side. "Apparently that's the way I came across, but I didn't mean to."

Logan simply raised a brow. "All right."

"Thought you'd be working today."

"I asked for the day off. Tomorrow too."

"Okay." She wasn't going to ask why. She didn't need to know.

Kenzie sighed and aimed herself for the open front door. "I'll go apologize." She paused. "Is the nurse here?"

"No, he sent her home when I got here."

"Did he ask you to take him to Mom's grave?"

"No."

She stopped and turned to meet her brother's gaze. "Then why did he ask me?"

Logan shrugged. "No idea." She glanced at Cole, who stood a discreet distance away, giving them the illusion of privacy. "Go on in," Logan said. "He's in the recliner. I'll let you have him to yourself for a while."

Great. She walked in to find him exactly where Logan said he was, head back, eyes closed, his mostly useless legs on the raised footrest and covered with a blanket she'd given him for Christmas last year. For the first time, he looked old to her. She flinched, then schooled her features. "Hi, Dad."

His eyes opened. "Hi. What are you doing here?"

Why did everyone keep asking her that? "You wanted me to take you to Mom's grave."

He frowned. "You get out of the hospital and you come straight here? Are you crazy?"

She bit her tongue for a full five seconds. "Not crazy, just not hurt that bad. Like I told you in the hospital, I'm fine. The wound required two stitches and some glue."

He grunted. "That doesn't sound serious."

She was going to stomp her feet and yell any second now. Instead, she pulled in a slow, deep breath and then let it out while she squelched the desire to have a good old-fashioned temper tantrum. "Like I said , it's not."

He studied her for a brief moment, and a hint of a smile curved his lips before it disappeared. What was that all about? "You don't have to take me to the grave today," he said. "We'll go another time."

She sat. Stood, then sat again. He raised a brow. "Something on your mind or you got ants in your pants?"

"I need to apologize. Cole said I blew you guys off at the hospital. That's not ... I didn't mean to do that."

His still laser-sharp gaze cut into her. "We wanted to be there for you."

Kenzie swallowed the "why?" that almost tripped off her tongue. "I know and I appreciate that. It's just ... I didn't..."

"Say what you want to say, girl."

She sighed. "Okay, fine. I don't mean this as a criticism against you, so please don't take it that way. It just is what it is. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you raised me to show no weakness, and admitting that I might need help is showing weakness. And as much as I try to overcome that—because I don't believe it's true—it's so ingrained in me that I find myself falling into that mindset when it comes to you and my brothers. So, I'm sorry. Thank you for coming by the hospital. It means a lot." She found herself surprised she meant it. This time when she stood, she planned on walking out the door.

"Hold up, Kenzie."

She turned back.

"Where's Logan?" he asked.

"Outside talking to Cole."

He nodded. "Can you help me into my chair?" He could stand as long as he had something to hold on to, so getting him in the chair wasn't as difficult as it would be if he had no use of his legs at all.

"Sure, but I don't mind getting you whatever you need so you don't have to get up." She rolled the chair over next to him while speaking.

"You can't give me what I need." He hesitated. "At least not a new pair of legs, but you might be able to help with something else. Something that I need to show you and a story I need to tell you. I was going to tell you the story on the way to the grave, then show you the room when we got back, but this will do." He shot her a wry smile. "See? Asking for help isn't so hard."

"Are you feeling okay?" She wasn't even kidding.

He laughed and she blinked. Okay, that was a weird interaction, but she was also curious. And a little freaked out.

Once she had him in the electric wheelchair, he motored himself down the reconstructed hallway to the room across from his. The room he made her promise to leave alone. The room that her mother had been sleeping in toward the end. After her mother had died, he allowed Kenzie to take whatever she wanted from it, then shut the door and told her to stay out of it. She'd complied, having no interest in visiting the room that symbolized her parents' marriage. Separation. Isolation. Arguments. Stoic silence. Bitterness. Anger...

She could go on, but he pushed the door open and rolled inside.

She swallowed hard, stepped over the threshold, and her jaw dropped. A crime scene board covered one wall. Well, the lower part of it. A large blown-up picture of the intersection where the accident had happened was on the adjacent wall. But it was the list of suspects and their pictures on the crime scene board that captured her attention. She walked over to it. "Dad?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, there was more emotion there than she'd ever seen. Ever. And then it was gone in a blink. "After you left," he said, "I needed something to distract me. So I went back to something that I suspected but could never prove."

She ran her fingers over her mother's face smiling out at her from the wedding picture her father had tacked to the wall under the label "Victim."

The breath caught in her lungs and she turned. "You don't think ... no ... I mean, it was an accident."

His eyes locked on hers. "I think it was murder."

COLE STOOD IN THE DOORWAY just behind Logan, who strangled on a gasp. "What? This is why you refused to let me come in this room?"

Mr. King spun in his chair, an expert maneuver that would have been impressive if everyone's attention hadn't been on the scene before them, ears ringing with his pronouncement.

"What are you doing sneaking around?" Mr. King snapped, eyes blazing his irritation. "I told you to give me some time alone with her."

"So you can tell her you think Mom was murdered?" Logan scoffed and Cole wished he could disappear—or at least walk away. Kenzie looked like she felt the same. But she wouldn't. She'd be going after every single detail from this point on.

She cleared her throat. "Dad, it's too late to keep this just between us now. Can you please explain without the attitude and snark?"

For a moment the man looked offended, then he sighed and swiped a hand down his face. "Fine." He eyed his son. "But don't you go blabbing this to your brothers."

A muscle pulsed in Logan's jaw. "I won't. Now please explain yourself." He swept a hand toward the walls. "And this."

Mr. King stayed silent, as though trying to organize his thoughts, then he shoved his jaw out and clasped his hands. "I've tried for years to figure this out on my own, but I'm limited. Not just my mobility, but with contacts. Almost no one in the department will talk to me even after all these years. Some have retired and moved on. Even more don't know who I am." He barked a hard laugh. "Or they've heard the rumors and don't know what to do when they find themselves on the other end of the line."

"Dad... ," Kenzie whispered.

"Just be quiet and let me tell it. No questions until I'm done."

"Can we at least go into the den?" Logan asked.

"No. I need the board, the timeline." He waved a hand.

"Should I leave you guys alone, Mr. King?" Cole asked.

Mr. King eyed him. "No. And call me Ben. You and Logan are tight. He'd just tell you anyway. Might as well save you both some time. As I was saying, I'd almost decided to give up on trying to figure it out—if there was anything to figure out—but I ..."

"But what?" Logan asked.

He shook his head. "But it keeps nagging at me." He huffed a humorless laugh. "Actually haunting might be a better word. There is something I'm missing. Something besides ..." He trailed off. "I'm not going to say I wasn't drinking that night. I had one glass of wine with dinner. But they said my blood alcohol level tested at .10."

From the siblings' expressions, they hadn't known this. The legal limit was .08 and grounds for arrest.

"You were drunk?" Logan ground out, his hands curled into fists. "Mom died because you drove drunk?"

"No!" Ben slammed a hand on the arm of his chair and took a moment to pull himself together. "No," he said in a more civil tone. "But no one was going to believe that. Then or now. I swear I only had one glass of wine. I had just been promoted to chief of police six months earlier. I wasn't about to do anything stupid like drink and drive."

"How did the media not leak that information out?" Logan asked.

"I had a buddy in the force who managed to keep it quiet."

"Which buddy?" Kenzie asked.

"It doesn't matter. He's not there anymore." His jaw worked. "I agreed to take an early retirement and keep my pension, and he buried the information. It was ruled an accident, and I was allowed to bury my wife and try to keep my family from falling apart."

"Keep your family fr—" Kenzie snapped her lips shut at Logan's glare.

"At first I refused," her father said. "I knew I hadn't been drinking enough to warrant that blood alcohol number. It had to be some kind of malfunction of the test or whatever." He rubbed his chin. "Unfortunately, I had no way to prove it, and I wasn't about to take my chances in court to try and do so."

Kenzie walked to the desk chair and sank into it, her face two shades lighter and her eyes locked on her father. "I don't know what to say. Or think."

"Think about this," Logan snapped. "If it was murder, who's responsible?"

That had been Cole's first question. He was glad Logan had finally gotten around to asking it.

"I don't know," Ben said with a slight shrug.

Kenzie was still staring at the man, her eyes narrowed now. "That was twenty years ago, Dad," Kenzie said. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

He sighed. "Because it's time."

"No," she said. "There's something else. What is it?"

Ben tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"There's got to be more than this for you to say Mom was murdered."

He nodded, a slow, grudging nod. "She wasn't even supposed to be in the car that night."

Kenzie gasped. "What?"

"We fought. I was going to the dinner and told her to stay home, that I didn't have the energy to pretend all was well in front of everyone." He cleared his throat. "At the last minute, she got ready, said she wasn't going to let me avoid talking anymore, and if I didn't let her ride with me, she'd just take her own car and meet me there. I let her ride," he finished on a whisper. After a few seconds of silence, he shook his head. "I'd already told Harold I'd be coming alone and he and I could talk business. He wasn't too happy when I showed up with Hannah." Hannah, Kenzie's mother.

"Wait a minute. Harold Woodruff?"

Cole blinked. Harold Woodruff, the man Ben had beat out for the position of chief of police way back when.

"Yes."

"I didn't think you guys were speaking to each other."

"We're not now. Back then we worked together and had no choice. And we both decided the family feud started by our fathers was stupid. We decided to end it long before that night."

Kenzie and Logan exchanged glances. "Family feud?" Logan asked. "What feud?"

Ben waved a hand as though that wasn't important. "It's a long story." He glanced at Cole. "You probably know more about it than I do."

Cole raised a brow and shoved his hands in his front pockets. "Why would I know anything about your family feud?"

"Because your grandparents, Eliza and William Garrison, were at the middle of it. Somehow. I've never gotten all the details straight and my mother isn't much for revisiting the past. Figured you'd have heard some of the stories."

He had, but he hadn't paid much attention. "I just know that my grandmother, Eliza Crane at the time, was admitted to Lake City State Hospital for trying to kill herself after an argument with her father. She was best friends with your mother, Betsy, right?"

"Yes."

"And somehow Betsy and Dr. King worked to get my grandmother out of the institution, but it caused a big ruckus with a lot of people. That's about all I know. Why don't you fill me in?"

"Eh, ask your father. That's all history. I need to focus on this for now and reiterate that I didn't run that stop sign because I'd had too much to drink, regardless of what the test said. I ran it because my brakes failed."

"But the report doesn't mention failed brakes," Kenzie said, while Cole wanted to return to the conversation about his grandparents and how they were involved in Kenzie's family's feud. But he set that aside, not wanting to interrupt her.

"It says that you ran the stop sign and hit the other driver, who was in a stolen car. The other guy left the scene and you were ruled at fault."

Her father's gaze sharpened and Cole raised a brow. "You read the report?" Ben asked.

Kenzie scoffed. "Of course I did. To the point that I have it memorized."

Ben scowled and stared at the crime scene wall he'd created. "It's like it happened yesterday, but the details are fuzzy at the same time. But I distinctly remember the brakes failing. I also remember seeing the other driver running from the scene and never being found. And the pain of realizing your mother was dead." His fingers worked themselves into a fist over and over. Open, close. Open, close. "I worked so hard to recover from that accident. I'd lost my wife..." His voice cracked and he stopped to draw in a ragged breath. "And I wasn't losing my job. The day I was ready to return to work, the mayor and two officers came to my house telling me I was going to be arrested for stealing evidence if I attempted to return, but if I took an early retirement, out of respect for me and my years of service—and recent trauma—they'd bury it."

Kenzie gasped. "Bury it?"

Logan stepped forward. "What was the evidence, Dad? I can't see you folding like that."

Kenzie ran a hand down her cheek and pressed her palms to her eyes before dropping her hands to her lap. "They had pictures of him meeting with Shady Talbot."

Ben's face paled. "How'd you know?"

"I came across the pictures in the evidence room. They were in Mom's case box."

He blinked up at her. "They're still there?"

"Yes, of course."

"You didn't think to destroy them?"

Cole flinched and she stared at her father. Then let out a low breath. "I won't lie and say it didn't occur to me, but I couldn't do that." Her eyes narrowed. "Any more than you could. Why were you seen with him? Much less put yourself in a spot to be photographed with him?"

"He was my CI! He picked the place. He always picked the place because he wanted a different spot each time. Said he was safer that way and I agreed. Obviously, he was followed that day—or I was—and I don't know who took the pictures, but they set me up. And then Shady was arrested and his evidence disappeared, which allowed him to be released and free to kill the man he attempted to rob the very next day!"

Cole wanted to intervene, but Logan waved him down and held a finger to his lips. His friend obviously wanted him to let this play out.

"And they think I stole the evidence because Shady blackmailed me, but he didn't!" A vein throbbed in Ben's forehead and his shout bounced off the walls. Kenzie's chest heaved with harsh breaths. For a moment father and daughter glared at one another.

"Your signature was on the evidence logbook the day the evidence went missing," she said, her voice lower, under control. "How do you explain that?"

"I can't," the man said, his words raw and ragged. "Why do you think I took their offer to resign with my pension intact? Do you really think I'd be so stupid to sign in and steal evidence? I'm smarter than that, argued that very thing when I was accused. Harold agreed it was all circumstantial and he worked to prove it, but eventually said he couldn't and"—a deep sigh escaped him—"I couldn't either. If I'd fought, wound up on trial, I could have lost and I wouldn't just have lost my job, I might have lost you kids too. I couldn't risk it."

They fell silent, Kenzie's eyes on her father, Logan's face pale and his throat working. He hadn't known everything Kenzie had. He'd told Cole he'd never looked at the case because it just brought up bad memories better left in the past. Cole had never understood that kind of thinking. If it had been him, he would have done exactly what Kenzie had. Memorized every detail.

"Sir," Cole said, "why now? You've kept all of this under wraps for twenty years. What's happened to spur you to talk to Kenzie—or anyone—about this now?"

"After the wreck and my recovery and everything, I tried to find Shady Talbot only to learn he'd died of a drug overdose. I wasn't too surprised by that, but I also learned something else. His DNA was found in the stolen car."

"What?" Kenzie breathed the word. "How did you find that out?"

Ben pointed to a file on the desk under the crime scene board. "That was in my mailbox last week, and yes, it has my prints all over it now because I didn't know what it was when I opened it. I've used gloves to handle it since." He nodded to the tray on the table.

Kenzie rose, strode to the box, and snagged a pair of gloves. Once her hands were encased, she opened the manila folder. Cole watched her, itching to see what it was. Logan shifted and took one step forward before he stopped and crossed his arms.

When Kenzie looked up, she drew in a shuddering breath. "Who sent this?"

"I have no idea."

"Come on, Kenz," Logan said, "what is it?"

"A lab report identifying DNA found in the car, and a second report with proof that someone lied about the brakes," she said. "There are two reports in here dated the same day, signed by the same person, with all of the same information except for one thing. The original report said the brakes were cut." She pulled one sheet from the file and held it up. "This one says there was nothing wrong with the brakes. The forensic mechanic lied."