Chapter Sixteen
The following morning, Cole sped along the winding road that led to Crimson’s abandoned ski resort, the Jeep’s lights flashing but its sirens silent. He was checking on a call the station had received that shots were being fired on the ski mountain.
It wasn’t anywhere near ski season, not to mention no one in town had rights to be on that land anyway. Cole couldn’t imagine the resort’s new owner would want to hear about some crazy person popping off multiple rounds on private land.
Since the road was all but deserted this time of day, Cole kept the Jeep’s siren off. If someone was trespassing or worse on resort property, he didn’t want to warn them of his approach.
He parked in the lot, empty except for a gleaming black Porsche SUV near the far end. As he approached the vehicle, the distant sound of music wafted toward him. He shined his flashlight into the tinted windows, but the Porsche was empty.
He followed the sound of music—and more specificallyThe Piña ColadaSong—up the stairs that led to the lodge’s wraparound patio.
The ski resort had closed in the early nineties due to a bankruptcy filing and family disputes by the long-time owners. Some of the older deputies had shared that it used to be a popular spot for local teens right after it was abandoned, but that had changed in the ensuing years. Nowadays, he had someone check the property on a routine basis but not many people ventured out this way other than hikers or tourists who’d taken a wrong turn.
Beer cans lined the patio’s wide rail, and Cole automatically put a hand on his weapon as he came around the corner.
A pair of long legs and expensive-looking sneakers came into view, and the next moment Cole let out a string of curses so vile it would have made his old army buddies blush. The man lounging in the chair was so similar to Cole in his features and build, it was almost like looking in a mirror. A mirror he wanted to punch with every fiber of his being.
“Hey, bro. I was wondering when you’d get here.” Shep Bennett made a show of checking his watch, sun reflecting off the shiny face. “Twenty-four minutes from when I fired my first round. Not great response time, if you ask me.” He hit a button on his phone to turn off the music, then picked up a .22 handgun from the arm of the weathered lounge chair where he was sitting and aimed at the beer cans.
“Don’t you dare—”
Shep fired three shots and a trio of cans disappeared over the railing.
“Put it down and explain what the hell you’re doing here.”
Shep laughed as he placed the gun on the chair’s arm again. “I’m letting off a little steam is all. You remember fun, don’t you?”
Anger flooded through Cole, engulfing the relief he felt at seeing Shep safe after all these years. He grabbed the gun, unloaded the magazine and took the bullet out of the chamber. He stepped directly in front of his brother, blocking his view of the ski mountain. “Why does your idea of fun always involve being an idiot?”
Shep stood, walked to the patio’s railing. “Guess I take after dad,” he said and flicked the remaining beer can over the edge.
“You’re going to clean all those up.” Cole moved forward to stand next to his brother. “Then you can drive away from here—back to wherever life has taken you.”
“That’s a funny story,” Shep muttered.
“Tell me you didn’t steal the Porsche.”
Shep turned, leaning a hip on the rail. “Give me a break, Cole. It’s mine.”
“Since when do you have that kind of money?”
“A lot can happen in seven years.”
“Like Mom’s funeral,” Cole shot back. He saw pain flare in his brother’s features before the smirk he remembered so well returned.
“You had to go there.”
It wasn’t just that Cole saw he’d upset Shep. He felt his brother’s emotional pain, courtesy of the unexplainable connection he had with his twin. Shep might pretend he didn’t care, but the truth was far more complicated.
“Where were you?” Cole asked.
Shep shrugged. “Arizona for a while. A few months in Mazatlán. Mainly I’ve been in California. The weather is—”
“February 12,” Cole interrupted. “That was the day I buried her. By myself. It would have killed her how little you care.”
“The heart attack beat me to it,” Shep ground out between clenched teeth. “You know I loved her. She knew it. I was down in Mexico when she died and couldn’t get back in time.”
“You never even called.”
