“We could try one. See how it goes.”
A tiny light of amusement glistened in her eye. “My mom always did like trying new things.” She paused. “Sometimes they didn’t turn out so well, but sometimes they did.”
“Maybe in honor of your mom, you give it a try?” By sheer luck, that seemed to be the right thing to say. Kendall rose, then, unexpectedly, flew into his arms.
Even as tall as she was for her age, close to five foot six, she felt so tiny as her arms came around him and his wrappedaround her back. She tucked her head against his chest, and it wasn’t long before her tears seeped through his shirt.
He held her tight as she cried, rubbing soothing circles between her shoulder blades, making vows to himself to give her the life she deserved. One with stability, security, love, friendship. He’d fuck up occasionally, he was sure of that, but the Falcons would be there for them when that happened.
Minutes ticked by as they stood in her room, her silent pain filling the space. When her grip eased and her body sagged, he knew she’d reached the exhaustion phase of mourning—at least for the first time. Loss was a cycle that ebbed and flowed; for now, it had drained her.
“I want to lie down,” she mumbled, her head still resting on his chest.
He eased away, and she turned, wiping her eyes and cheeks as she walked to the four-poster bed, her steps heavy as she crossed the thick wool rug.
He waited until she tucked herself under the covers before speaking again. “I’ll text you an update on my brothers’ ETA. Dulcie and I will be here all day, though, so don’t hesitate to text if you need anything or come find us.” The ruffle of the comforter was his only response. He waited another half a minute to make sure she didn’t change her mind and ask for something, then turned to leave.
His body felt ten times heavier as he navigated back to the ground floor, as if the weight of Kendall’s grief pulled him down. When he stepped into the main room, Dulcie rose.
“How is she?” he asked.
Monk lifted a shoulder. “I don’t think it was wholly unexpected, but still…”
Dulcie tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Mantis said they’ll be here by early afternoon. Superman, Wesson, and Juanare staying back to cover the businesses, but everyone else will be here. I suspect the women will come, too.”
Monk’s phone dinged, and he pulled it out. “And Leo and Joey,” he said, showing Dulcie the screen with Leo’s message.
“A full house.”
Monk snorted. “It’s not like we don’t have room.”
The comment drew a smile that faded as quickly as it appeared. “Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do with all this?” he asked with a gesture meant to encompass the castle and everything else he’d inherited.
Monk sank down onto a chair as he shook his head. “It’s more than the castle. There’s the wine business, the properties, and despite his many failings, Roger was good with money, so there are a shit ton of investments. More money than I could ever—or would ever want to—spend in my lifetime. I’ll put some away for the network,” he said, referring to the network of people the club worked with to extract people from abusive situations. “But other than that, I haven’t given it much thought.” He paused, then leaned back, emotional exhaustion rolling through him. “I’ve been too busy worrying about the murders and how or why they’re circling around Helia.”
Dulcie sat as well. “A more pressing matter than Bacco and your inheritance,” he agreed. Gretchen would keep the business going in the short term, maybe the long term, too, if she was interested. And Alessio would manage the wine aspect. The truth was, with good people in place, the Bacco part of the estate could click along fine. He just wasn’t sure he wanted anything to do with it. A question he could address once they sorted out the murders and how best to ensure Helia didn’t get caught up in them anymore.
Of course, the best way to do that would be to solve them. Not for the first time did it feel as though an obvious piece of the puzzle was eluding him, something that explained why Heliaseemed in the middle of the situation when she had nothing to do with it. Hell, she couldn’t even kill a spider. She was one of those people who picked them up with a glass and gently set them outside. The idea that she was involved in not one, but two murders was laughable.
“Taking Helia out of the picture, which is hard to do given she’s been questioned in both murders, why are all these people from her past—fromthepast—reemerging?” he asked.
“They may have reappeared in her life, but neither Weber nor Flannery left Napa,” Dulcie said.
“Unlike Kurt Fisher and Trish Peterson,” he said. “Both left and are now back.”
“But Kurt and Justin are dead, while Weber and Peterson aren’t.”
“I think it’s safe to assume Kurt’s and Justin’s deaths are connected. Maybe even my father’s, too. It’s too much of a coincidence to have three murders in the Napa Valley—men who worked in similar, though not the same, industries—and not have them connected.”
“We just haven’t figured out how yet,” Dulcie said in agreement. “But are Peterson and Weber a part of it as well? Or is it coincidence that they reappeared in Helia’s life now?”
“And if they are all part of something together, what would bring a wine merchandiser, a food importer, a restaurant manager, and a lighting fixture exec, or whatever Trish was, together?”
“I can see the first three having professional connections, but Trish?” Dulcie said. “Although we did see her this morning,” he said. Monk pulled his gaze from the flames to his brother. “She was at Sundaram, talking to Greg, the kitchen manager. She’s thinking about getting into the food import business, too,” he said, before telling Monk what she’d told Helia that morning.
As he spoke, a picture wavered into focus before disintegrating. “If Trish goes that path, we now have three people involved in imports related to the food and wine industry—Trish, Kurt, and Justin—and one in the restaurant industry, Derek.” He paused as the picture took shape again, this time, more like a puzzle. Not clear, but clear enough to see what might be revealed.
“Throw Roger in there and his drugs, and I have to wonder if there’s a high-end drug distribution channel operating here in scenic Napa Valley.”
