Justice is Coming

Eden shook her head. “I was hoping you could tell me. The person also said your name had been changed after the murders.”

“It was. Twice. But as far as I know, no other living person has that specific information. Except maybe my family’s killer.”

Was that it? Was that the connection?

“What does this photo have to do with the order the hacker gave me to kill you?” she asked.

He snatched the phone from her, backed up, but he still didn’t lower his gun. He kept it aimed right at her while he glanced out the window. Maybe to see if the camera installer was returning. He apparently wasn’t, because Declan’s attention went back to the photos. There weren’t more to see, but he paused for a long time on that last one.

The bad-memory one.

“I’ve been digging, but I don’t have many answers,” she admitted. “Still, I have to believe that picture has something to do with all of this or he wouldn’t have sent it to me.”

Eden paused, hoping Declan didn’t shoot her for asking what she had to ask. “What do you remember about your family’s murders? Who killed them? Because the person sent me links of the old crime, but all the articles said the culprit was an unknown assailant.”

A sterile term for something far from sterile.

“I don’t know who killed them.” He was in control again. The tough cowboy lawman, and he was glaring at her, maybe because he didn’t believe she was innocent in all of this.

And maybe she wasn’t.

Eden didn’t know if she was one hundred percent blameless, but that was what she intended to find out—after she bought herself and her sisters some time.

“I don’t have any memories of the attack,” Declan finally added. “According to the shrink the cops made me see, I blocked them out.”

Too bad. But Eden cringed at the thought. Maybe blocking them out had been the only way Declan had survived. That and being hidden in a cellar while his family was murdered. If he hadn’t been in that cellar, he would have been killed, as well. In fact, Eden was afraid that Declan was the reason they’d been killed in the first place.

Judging from the look in his eyes, he thought so, too.

He groaned, dropped back another step and shoved her phone in his front pocket. Maybe so he’d have a free hand to scrub over his face—which he did.

“What’s the first memory you do have after the murders?” she asked.

“A few days later.” And that was all he said for several long moments. “The local cops put me in protective custody, gave me a fake name and eventually sent me to a distant cousin, Meg Tanner, in Ireland. I lived on and off with her and then some of her friends in County Clare for eight years before she brought me to Texas.”

Yes, because Meg had learned she had Parkinson’s disease and could no longer take care of Declan. Or at least that was the info Eden had been given by the mystery person who’d orchestrated this visit to Declan’s place.

“Eventually your cousin took you to the Rocky Creek Children’s Facility,” Eden supplied. “Why there?”

“She just said I’d be safe there. I got another name, the one I use now, and Kirby said I shouldn’t talk about my past to anyone. So I didn’t.”

Eden took up the rest of the explanation. “The facility didn’t normally take boys your age, but they made an exception. Actually, someone there faked the paperwork so you could be admitted.”

Declan glared again. “How do you know that?”

“Despite what you think of me, I’m a good P.I. I know how to find information, even when someone wants that information hidden.”

Though it had been especially challenging to get any records from the notorious facility because of an ongoing investigation into the murder of the orphanage’s headmaster, Jonah Webb. According to what she’d learned, Webb’s wife had murdered him sixteen and a half years ago when Declan was just thirteen years old and his five foster brothers had all been living at Rocky Creek.

And Webb’s wife had an unknown accomplice.

Declan and all five of his foster brothers were suspects. So was their foster father, Kirby Granger, the retired marshal who had “rescued” Declan and his foster brothers and then raised them on his sprawling ranch.

That led Eden to her next question. “Is this connected to Jonah Webb’s murder investigation?”

Declan certainly didn’t jump to deny it, and coupled with that photo of him as a child, this might be one very complex puzzle. Something they didn’t have time for right now.

“I need to fire the gun,” Eden reminded him, checking the time again. “The person who set this up needs to believe you’re dead.”

“So you’ve said,” he argued.

Eden was sure her mouth dropped open. “You don’t believe me?”

“Why should I?”

It took her a moment to get control of her voice so she could speak. “Why else would I have come here? Why else would I have those pictures of you?”

Declan gave her a flat look. “You tell me.”

Oh, mercy. She hadn’t expected Declan to blindly go along with the faked-death plan, but Eden had figured the photos would have at least convinced him that he was in danger. And not from her. But from the same person who could get her and her sisters killed the hard way.

She walked closer to him. “Look, I don’t want to be here, and I darn sure don’t want to be involved in this mess. I have enough going on in my life—”

“Enough going on that you could have cut a deal with someone to kill me. I’ve made enemies.”

Yes, he had made enemies. Plenty of them. For whatever reason, maybe old baggage from his childhood, Declan volunteered to take the worst cases. Scum of the scum. And men like that didn’t forgive and forget easily. They would often try to take revenge against the lawman who’d arrested them.

“I’m not disputing that people might want you dead,” Eden said. “But why come to me? Why involve me in this other than because you arrested my father? I think even you have to admit that’s a thin connection.”

“Maybe.” Clearly, he wasn’t admitting that at all. He reached down, picked up her gun and shoved it into the waistband of his jeans. “Come on. You’re going to the marshals’ office with me so I can take a statement.”

Eden held her ground when he latched on to her arm. “Someone wants to kill you.” Though she’d already made that point several times. Either he didn’t believe her at all or he was ready to risk his life and hers by walking out that door.

“Think of my sisters,” she said, and she was ready to beg if necessary. “You know what it’s like to lose someone close to you. Don’t make my family go through that.”

Eden didn’t see what she wanted in his eyes—any indication that he was considering what she’d just asked. But then Declan turned his gun toward the floor.

And fired.

The two shots blasted through the small house, the bullets tearing into the wood floor. The sound was deafening. Unnerving.

But a relief, too.

“Thank you,” Eden managed to say despite her suddenly bone-dry throat. “Now, for the next step. While you pretend to be dead, I’ll leave and contact one of your brothers. I’m thinking maybe Harlan McKinney.” She’d researched them all, and he seemed the most levelheaded.

He shook his head. “I’ll call Wyatt. Harlan’s tied up with some personal stuff right now. Wedding plans,” he added in a mumble. His gaze shot back to hers. “I’ve got no intention of playing dead for long. You cooperate with Wyatt and me, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Before she could agree, Declan got in her face again. “Here’s the only warning you’ll get from me. If you’re lying about any of this, I will make you pay.”