At a few minutes after four Brandon and Tash were escorted into the library of Ash’s impressive midtown law office. Brandon looked around, a little intimidated despite the fact that Ash was his brother. The walls were paneled in a richly grained wood with floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases containing hundreds of legal books. The table they sat at was polished to a high, dark shine. Brandon could only imagine how daunting it must be for people on the opposite side of a case to be subjected to his brother’s lightning-sharp mind.
Tash poured himself a cup of cold water. “Don’t worry. I have full confidence Ash will be able to work it out for you.”
“Thanks, Tash.” Ash entered the room with Luke on his heels. “I’m going to do my best.”
Brandon hadn’t realized Luke would be there today, but in reality he should’ve known. Years spent fending for himself had him braced for disappointment from everyone. But not these men.
“Luke. I’m glad to see you.”
From his troubled expression, Brandon sensed Luke wanted to say something but was holding back.
“What’s wrong? You look like you have something on your mind.” Brandon accepted the cup of coffee Ash handed him.
Looking supremely uncomfortable, Luke drank deeply from his ever-present coffee cup before speaking. “Um, well, last night after we got home, Neil stopped by.”
Brandon’s stomach took a nosedive to his knees. “The policeman?”
“Detective,” Luke corrected him. “Yeah, and we got to talking, and somehow it slipped out that you had to see Ash today.”
“So? I could be seeing him for a lot of different reasons. You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”
Luke shook his head. “I swear I didn’t and neither did Jordan, but you have to understand Neil is a seasoned detective who already had an interest in you because of how you showed up out of the blue.”
“What would that have to do with anything?” Brandon knew he was overreacting, and his voice sounded shrill to his ears, but he’d thought his past was confined to the people he’d personally told. To find out the police were now sniffing around terrified him.
“It’s fine, Brandon. Don’t concern yourself with Neil. We’re here to help you and figure out your next step.” Ash’s attempt at comfort didn’t help much.
Tash rubbed his back. “It’s going to work out. You’ll see. Your imagination is always worse than actual reality.” The warmth of Tash’s hand on the nape of Brandon’s neck settled his racing pulse. He leaned back onto Tash’s arm. “Better?” Tash murmured into his ear.
Miraculously he was. “Yeah, thanks.” He smiled into Tash’s eyes and saw the love and safety residing there. “Thanks.”
The wink he received in return was enough.
“So, let’s get started.” Ash opened his folder. “Brandon what was the date you had the fight with Munson?”
“April 22.” He swallowed against the sour taste that rose in his throat. “Around six in the evening.”
Ash wrote in his pad as he continued to fire off question after question. Did he ever tell anyone about Munson’s abuse of their mother or himself? Were there any physical scars from previous fights? Where did the fight start? Did their foster mother see him leave the house? Did he hear or see anyone after he left the house for good?
As he answered all the questions, Brandon recognized the defense Ash was building for him. “You’re going for self-defense? Or the fact that I was abused my whole life and I snapped at last?”
Ash’s answering smile confirmed his statement. “Right now, yes. I looked at the newspaper report you mentioned you read, and it was very brief, only a few lines about his death. That was reported”—Ash checked his notes—“on April 28. They gave the approximate date of death at around seventy-two hours earlier.” His brow furrowed as he checked the article again. “Hmm, that’s the twenty-fifth, three days after you said you hit him and left him in the woods.”
Brandon shrugged. “So it’s off by a few days.”
“Can I see the newspaper article?” Tash took the sheet of paper from Ash. Brandon watched Tash scan the short article. When he’d finished, Tash turned to him a huge smile on his face.
“Brandon, I think you’re innocent. I don’t believe you killed your foster father at all.”
Chapter Eighteen
Three astonished faces stared at him. If it wasn’t such a serious situation, Tash might have found it comical. The only one who counted, though, Brandon, seemed far more agitated than happy with his news.
“What are you talking about? I left him bleeding from the head. He wasn’t moving.” Brandon pushed back from the table, and Tash sat helpless as he watched his lover fall apart.
“Why are you giving me false hope? For years I dreamed I hadn’t hit him and ran away instead, leaving him on his feet, laughing after me.” Brandon wiped at the tears streaking his cheeks, and Tash hurt at Brandon’s obvious raw pain. “But I didn’t. He went down and didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. There was blood coming from his head. I took the brick I used and threw it in the creek down the road, making sure all the blood soaked away.” The desolation in Brandon’s eyes mirrored that of patients Tash had treated after a family tragedy, wounded and lost.
Ash and Luke tried to calm him down, but Brandon pulled away from them. Tash recognized the basis of his defensive behavior. After all, Brandon had spent almost half his life dealing with whatever life threw his way, alone. Naturally, he didn’t know how to take advice from anyone trying to help, his brothers or lover included. Mistrustful as a wild creature and just as nervous, Brandon had to learn to have faith in the people around him.
