“Sweetheart. It’s not about being patient. Whoever this is, whether it be the killer or someone else, it’s because they’re frightened of us. Or frightened of Noir and Tamsyn being together. Like perhaps Tamsyn’s real father.”
“What would he have to do with anything?” Weezer asked.
“For the last ten years, the only people who had the proof that I wasn’t Tamsyn’s father was us and Tamsyn. Now that it’s out, whoever is her father might not want to be found out. We find that man, and we might know who buried those bones on our vineyard.”
“We haven’t had this chat in a while, so who are your list of viable suspects and have you done anything about this lately?”
“I asked Tamsyn if she’d be willing to do a couple more DNA samples.” Carter pushed the food around on his plate.
“Did you give her names?”
Carter nodded. “I’d like to start with Richard Berkin.”
Weezer whistled. “Whether he slept with Elizabeth or not, I doubt he’s going to agree to a paternity test, especially if you ask. He’s filed for an appeal and he’s screaming to anyone who will listen that we set him up.”
“We kind of did.” Carter smiled. “And I’m damn proud of that one.” He let out a long breath. “During Merlot and Talbot’s wedding, I kept studying Talbot and Tamsyn for similarities, and I didn’t find any.”
“Genetics don’t always work that way.” Weezer placed her hand over his wrist. “Who else?”
He cocked his head. “The list hasn’t changed.”
“It helps to talk this through.”
“Fine,” he said. “Charlie Osborne, Sheriff Boyd Morton, and Michael Kirkpatrick.”
“All of them are good prospects. Only, if I had to place a bet, it would be on Michael. When was the last time you heard from him?” Weezer asked.
“Four years ago and the trail is dead. My private investigator can’t find him and that means he’s most likely using and on the streets again. I hope that’s not the case, but that man has had a rough life.”
“You’ve asked Charlie and Boyd to take a paternity test before, and they both turned you down flat. Do you think you can convince them this time?”
“I’m not going to try.” Carter arched a brow. “For years, Tamsyn wanted her father to appear in her life. To want her. She didn’t want to force it. If he wanted her, then she’d welcome it. If he didn’t, she didn’t want him in her life. I want to think she’s of the mindset that her biological father could have something to do with what’s happening now.”
“You believe that, or she told you that? Because those are two very different statements.”
Carter lifted his mug, sipping his coffee, wishing he’d made it of the Irish variety. “She didn’t come out and say it. She’s been acting all cop, working with the sheriff’s department and State. But I know that young lady. She’s smart and I see the conflict in her eyes. She’s walking a fine line between being Noir’s girlfriend, supporting us through something that’s an obvious setup, and doing her job without compromise.”
“That’s a shit place to be.”
He took Weezer’s hand. “I need you to let me handle this. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but please keep your focus on the Holiday Showcase and stay the hell away from this case. Follow whatever the police need, except don’t speak to them without me present, including Tamsyn, unless it’s social. Got it?”
“And what the hell are you going to do, darling husband?”
“The same thing I always do, protect my family.” He took her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “But I mean it, Weezer. Don’t meddle. When you do that, you tend to make things worse.”
She narrowed her eyes.
Never a good sign.
“I love you with everything that I am. You’re brilliant with so many things. This is not one of them. Law, police shit, that’s my area. Let me do what I do best.”
“I will stay in my lane. I promise.” Weezer raised her finger. “But we need to show Tamsyn that text from Elizabeth. And we need to do it sooner rather than later.”
“I’ll set up that meeting, but you’ll do it with me present.”
“That’s fair and reasonable,” Weezer said.
“That’s my girl.”
