The Bashes have brought several of their varietals from their vineyard, and we’re starting to migrate to the dining room when there’s a knock at the door. I get up and open it to Erik and Charlie, who are looking pretty upset about something. To be fair, Erik usually has some sort of disgruntled expression on his face, but the disquiet in Charlie’s eyes lets me know that whatever this is, it’s bad.
I usher them inside, and they stop short when they see Anja and Georg.
“We can come back,” Erik says, pivoting toward the door.
I hold up my hands, shaking my head. “I don’t think so. What’s with your faces?”
Charlie’s eyes lock on Ant. They’ve been working together on Domino, and I know Charlie has a lot of affection for him. To see him so ruffled…I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
“Ant, you’re not in trouble, but I need to know where you were on Wednesday night.”
Javier stayed with me on Wednesday night, which meant Ant was in the bunkhouse alone. His guilty look tells me I’m not going to like whatever comes next.
Actually, I wouldn’t quite describe his look as guilty. It’s more…sheepish.
“Why?” he asks, biting his thumbnail.
Charlie pulls a small oblong object wrapped in an old blue bandanna from his back pocket. Unwrapping it carefully—and without commentary—he holds up a douk-douk. An old-school pocketknife.
“Lyle Underwood found this in Domino’s stall.”
Javier inhales sharply, then focuses on Ant. “That’s one of my knives. Why does Charlie have one of my knives?”
Ant grimaces again. “Sorry. It must’ve dropped out of my pocket.”
While I’m pretty sure he actually feels bad about losing the knife, Ant still seems a little proud of himself. That’s a little disturbing to consider as Charlie gingerly opens the blade, which is coated in a near-black rust-colored red.
“Is that blood?” I ask, looking away quickly. Javier puts a protective arm around my waist as I shoot laser beams at the side of Ant’s head. He ignores me.
“Yes,” is Erik’s terse response.
Charlie lets out a long-suffering sigh. “We’re about to take this to Wimberley to get it analyzed. We’ll know by tomorrow whose blood this is, Ant. Did you kill somebody on Wednesday?”
Ant shrugs as if it’s no big deal. Bram, Nacho, and I exchange a horrified look, then round on him.
“Did you just shrug at murdering someone?” Bram asks, his tone on the razor’s edge of civil.
“Dude, what the hell?” Nacho asks, distress marring his pretty features.
Ant smiles, then shrugs again. The only people not losing their shit at this point are the Bashes, who both seem to be examining Ant with interest.
“Ant,” Anja begins, her voice gentle, her expression open. “Did you kill someone on Wednesday?”
His eyes dart to hers and soften. He nods.
“He was a bad guy.”
Everybody else starts shouting at once, and Anja holds up her hand, saving her most eviscerating look for Erik, who’s acting like the world is falling down around us. Which, to be fair, it absolutely could be.
Anja’s look, however, brooks no argument. That is some grade-A prime mom look, and it makes my chest ache a little. I spare a glance at my brother, and he’s rubbing his hand over his chest as well.
Our mom and Anja would’ve gotten on like gangbusters.
“How do you know he was a bad guy, Ant?” she prods gently.
“Elias told me. He got away when Erik and Charlie went in, but Elias knew where he’d likely gone.”
“Why didn’t he tell us?” Charlie asks, trying to mirror Anja’s calm demeanor.
