“The land can’t be sold, but there’s nothing in the contract that says it can’t be leased. The contract was made back when land was stolen, gifted, or bought. Hardly ever leased.” Karson reached for his drink and took a sip.
“The Locklears and the Taylors will never sign. They’re of Native American descent, and there is no way they will allow the estate to be developed,” Ethan said, lowering himself to the couch.
Luke’s words at the ball, and the fire that subsequently claimed his life. The Tolles’ car accident. Eight people were taken out in one night. It was almost too conveniently in favor of Cole and Jefferson. What if none of it was an accident? What if it was murder?
I sat back, an uneasy feeling sweeping through my belly. It seemed highly unlikely, as if anyone would be so blatantly arrogant enough to take out someone who’d just said, “Over my dead body,” and think they’d get away with it. But then, Occam’s razor—the simplest explanation was usually the best—sprung to mind.
“That’s exactly my thinking,” Ethan agreed, and I realized I’d muttered it out loud. He was staring at the fireplace, his jaw tight, deep in thought.
“Do you think it’s possible Cole had something to do with the car accident and the fire?”
“Robert was drunk,” Karson responded. “He was over three times the legal limit, so I highly doubt that was anything other than an accident.”
Alarm bells sounded in my head. Robert wasn’t drinking. But maybe Robert and Katrina had stayed, and he’d started drinking later?
“Did you catch up with Katrina that night to get her thoughts on the development, Karson?”
“No, she’d gone home unwell, apparently.”
I knew that to be untrue—I’d seen her storm through the room. It also contradicted my last thought that Robert may have started drinking after I left. I simply stared at him. He held my gaze without so much as a blink.
“So, she asked to see you, but then went home before you caught up with her?” I kept my tone as casual as possible.
He raised his brows. “That’s correct.”
Was he somehow involved? But why would he need them dead? Karson had nothing to do with the development. He certainly didn’t light the fires and then save me—if hedidsave me. Maybe Katrina was unwell and left before he found her. Or maybe the Tolles had gone somewhere else, and Robert drank and then drove home?
My intuition screamed that there was more to the story.
I smoothed down the edge of my skirt. “Did you come across the fire on your way home or see anything at all? Cars leaving the area, perhaps?” Save any girls from raging fires . . .?
“No, I left not long after you did, Amelia,” he answered with blunt irritation, moving to the far chair and sitting down.
My stomach fell. Then how was it he came to be in the area while the fires raged? I said nothing for a long beat, watching his face, searching for answers that weren’t forthcoming.
“I can see from your expression that you’re doubting my answers,” he said, not hostile, more chiding.
Ethan raised his head and looked between us, bemused.
“I’m just trying to work it all out in my head.”
“I see.” Those two words were as condescending as shit.
“Have you managed to have a . . .” Ethan paused and darted his eyes to mine then back to Karson’s as if reconsidering what he was about to say. “Little chat with Jefferson or Cole?” He reached across, grabbing the decanter from the coffee table, and poured a whiskey. Then he handed the decanter to Karson.
“No, they’ve left town. I’ve been looking for them, but so far I’ve hit brick walls.” Karson refilled his glass and held the decanter out. “Would you like a drink, Amelia?”
Christ, he had this intense gaze that made me feel like I was a rabbit in a den of wolves. I craved a drink, but not whiskey. I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
He settled the decanter back on the coffee table as snippets of conversations came back to me.
“Everyone knows if you sit there when Karson and Ethan are in town, it won’t end well for you.”
“Rumor has it he murdered her.”
To say the scenarios that played out in my head didn’t sit comfortably would be a gross understatement. “What do you mean by ‘little chat’? Why is it your job to talk to them, and not Matt’s?”
Karson leaned his back against the chair and rested his glass on the arm. “It’s not for you to worry about.”
